At length the aristocracy of St. Petersburg, Warsaw, Moscow, and other large centers became almost panic stricken–not even daring to trust their oldest servants.
This feeling was increased when the Czar found a note on his dressing-bureau, which read as follows:
"Alexander.–My life was as good as that of your tyrant father, Nicholas. He murdered me. My spirit will murder you.–Batavsky."
That the note was placed there by some bold Nihilist, a member of the emperor's household, there could be no doubt, and although his personal staff and ministers advised him to take no notice of it, it struck terror to his heart.
Every member of his household was taken in hand by the police and questioned, and each one made to give a sample of his handwriting, but nothing could be found out.
Extra precautions were taken, however, and the Czar never ventured forth without a double guard, and even the streets were guarded by the police to insure his safety.
But another warning came, as if to show him that even those who guarded him needed guards for themselves, when one day the prefect of police was killed on the steps of his official residence, and no clew of the assassin could be found, although lying near his body was found a paper with the simple name of Batavsky written upon it in Russian.
Then the Czar began to question who this Batavsky was, and it was finally ascertained that an influential man by that name had been transported to Siberia by the Emperor Nicholas for engaging in a revolution–in fact, that he was one of the first Nihilists of Russia, and was supposed to be enormously rich.
But those riches were never found, and the old revolutionist had died in Siberia, and so nothing came of the inquiry save a deeper mystery.
Two or three attempts upon the Czar's life were made and failed. Those who were caught or suspected were put to death, but so soon as one was taken from the work two more were ready to fill his place.