The Price of Power / Being Chapters from the Secret History of the Imperial Court of Russia

“M’sieur Colin Trewinnard?”
“That is my name, Captain Stoyanovitch,” I replied in surprise. “You know it quite well.”
“The usual formality, mon cher ami !”
And the tall, handsome equerry in the white uniform of the Imperial Guard laughed lightly, clicked his heels together, and handed me a letter which I saw bore the Imperial cipher upon its black seal.
“From His Imperial Majesty the Emperor,” he added in Russian.
I held my breath. Had the blow fallen?
With eager, trembling fingers I tore open the envelope and found therein a note in French, merely the words:
“ His Imperial Majesty the Emperor commands Mr Colin Trewinnard to private audience to-day at 3:30 p.m .
“ St. Petersburg, June 28th .”
“Very well,” I managed to reply. “Tell Colonel Polivanoff that—that I shall be there. Have a cigarette?” and I handed him the silver box of Bogdanoffs which were the common property of the staff of the Embassy.
Having flung himself into a big easy chair, he stretched out his long legs and lit up.