The whole thing was merely a matter of annoyance and weariness, and Madame Demidoff soon found her way to the customs hall, followed by her maid and the polite but tiresome official, who were carrying her things.
Her large trunks were lying in the hall; these, having been registered, were not opened, but marked with the Austrian custom-house stamp, as allowed to pass the frontier unmolested.
"Have you any bags or small luggage besides, madame?" asked an officer who had been turning over Rôza's bag, and undoing the bundle of rugs and umbrellas she had placed on the counter.
"Yes! I have a valise and a dressing-bag. Rôza," she said, "open them; here are the keys."
"I was not carrying madame's valise or her dressing-bag," said the maid; "the customs offficer was carrying them; I don't see the things just at this moment; he must have put them down somewhere."
"Find them at once. You had no right to let anyone touch them; you know I never allow anyone to carry my bag but yourself."
Madame Demidoff found it difficult to control her agitation, and Rôza peered anxiously round, trying to recognise the official who had charge of the precious bags.
"Did you say a customs official was carrying the things?" asked a porter, seeing the girl's distress; "it is such an unlikely thing for any of them to do, they are all too busy in here."
"He is not here at this moment," said Rôza; "it was a young man with a long brown beard and curly hair; he was in uniform."
"Every one of the officials connected with the custom-house is in the room at this moment, miss; I have known them all for years, not one is missing. I am beginning to be afraid you have been tricked by one of these clever robbers, who have done a deal of mischief before now at these customs stations; you see it is so easy to rob people here, especially ladies, as –– "
"Rôza," gasped Madame Demidoff, who had overheard the man's last words, and now felt sick with terror, "look again! you must have been mistaken.… Where is my valise?… You are responsible for my valise... I shall accuse you of theft, unless you find my valise.… I shall –– "
She checked herself just in time, for an amused and interested crown of spectators began to assemble round her and her maid, eager to watch this elegantly dressed lady so completely losing her self-control over the loss of some small articles of luggage.
The second bell had already sounded; the passengers were preparing to resume their seats in the express. Madame Demidoff, seeing the piercing eyes of one or two officials fixed searchingly at her, felt the necessity of pulling herself together. Her long knowledge of the world–the official world–told her of the danger of betraying too much emotion over apparent trifles, lest those trifles became thereby an object of suspicion. Regaining hersang-froid, she turned to the porters, who stood gaping round, and said with calmness:
"My valise and dressing-bag contained some very valuable jewellery. I will give a thousand guldens for their recovery, two thousand if I have them back before dawn. In the meanwhile one of you take my luggage to a cab, and I shall be glad to know the name of the best hotel in this town, where I shall stay until my property is recovered. I must interview the police at once, that is, I suppose, as early in the morning as possible."
"Rôza," she added, turning to her poor discomfited maid, while her orders were being promptly and noiselessly carried out, "here are a month's wages, and the money to pay your fare back to Vienna; do not ever let me set eyes on you again."
After that she walked gracefully and steadily across the room, got into a cab, and was driven to the hotel, while poor Rôza was left to be consoled by the kind porter, until the next train started back for Vienna.
Chapter IX
In the meanwhile Iván Volenski had suffered terribly. His was a peculiar position at that moment. Anxious as he had been to serve the great cause, he had imperilled it–unwittingly–almost beyond recall. His comrades had trustingly placed their lives, their freedom in his hands, lured by his promises of immunity, and twenty-four hours later he had placed them all in the hands of an agent of that very police they so justly dreaded.
And yet the Nuncio, in the morning following that eventful night, had succeeded in somewhat reassuring him. Perhaps his Eminence felt a trifle guilty in the matter of those candlesticks, and thought his secretary was blaming him for allowing them to pass out of his hands. He took great care to explain to Iván the accident to one of the Cupid's arms, which both he and Madame Demidoff had noticed, and which finally decided him to accept her kind offer. Little by little Volenski gleaned from the Cardinal a minute account of all that passed between him and the fair Russian, on the subject of the Emperor's candlesticks.
He heard that Madame had, with her own hands, packed the damaged bibelot and placed it on one side, and had herself professed to take the utmost care that not the slightest accident should happen further.
Here was a reason, clearly, for once more thanking Providence that it should have guided his hand towards the damaged candlestick, when secreting the fateful papers.
Madame Demidoff so far knew nothing, that was a reasonable hope, and as soon as his Eminence had left Vienna, which unfortunately would not be till the evening, Iván meant to travel to Petersburg without delay, and on behalf of his absent master ask Madame Demidoff to remit the candlesticks to him, for safe custody within the walls of the Papal Legation.
In the meanwhile not a word to his comrades. He had seen the president the evening before and told him of the alteration in the Cardinal's plan, which would enable him, Volenski, to deliver the papers in Taranïew's hands two days before the anticipated time. To tell them all of the dangers they were in would be unnecessary cruelty.
What could they do but wait for the blow, if it was destined to fall? Mirkovitch would wish to kill the Tsarevitch. It would be revolting to murder a defenceless prisoner.
Now his Eminence had quieted his anxieties. There was no fear, no hurry. After the Cardinal left, Volenski's peace of mind enabled him to sleep quietly, without harassing dreams of prisons and Siberia.
He felt alert and well the next morning, read to take the express through Oderberg to Petersburg, little more than twenty-four hours after Madame Demidoff, following closely on her footsteps.
He breakfasted cheerfully, as one free from care, and with mechanical hands opened the morning paper to glance at the news. And when he read it, there was that in the paper that crushed all his hopes, and for the first time led him to doubt that it was Providence who watched over the Socialist cause.
"Yesterday, during the examination of passengers' luggage at Oderberg, at six o'clock in the morning, a daring robbery was committed.
"As Madame Demidoff, a lady well known in our aristocratic circles, was alighting from her coupé, a man, disguised in the uniform of our customs officials, offered to carry her dressing-bag and valise. He appeared to be following her with her belongings, and it was not till nearly a quarter of an hour later that Madame Demidoff realised that the man and all her belongings had disappeared. It is stated by the lady herself, that the valise contained some valuable articles; her extraordinary agitation on hearing of her loss was much commented upon. The matter is in the hands of the police, who already have an important clue."
What
