I nodded my head as if well satisfied.
“Whatever you and your friends in Petersburg tell me, I shall believe,” I assured him. “I am convinced of the good intention of your Government.”
The Russian fairly grinned at this simplicity.
“You cannot find a more trustworthy informant than the Princess Y——,” he said gravely. “And just now she is in a position to know a very great deal.”
“How so?” I asked naturally—not that I doubted the statement.
“The Princess has just been appointed a lady-in-waiting to her imperial majesty the Dowager Empress Dagmar.”
This was a serious blow. Knowing what I did of the past of Princess Y——, I felt that no ordinary pressure must have been brought to bear to secure her admission into the household of the Czaritza. And with what motive? It was a question to which there could be only one answer. The War Party had guessed or suspected that the Czar’s mother was opposed to them, and they had resolved to place a spy on her actions.
Inwardly thankful to Mr. Place for having been the means of procuring me this important information in advance, I received my passport and quitted the Embassy with the heartfelt congratulations of the ex-kidnapper.
Forty-eight hours later I had crossed the Russian frontier, and my life was in the hands of the Princess.
My first step on arriving in the capital of the North was to put up at the favorite hotel of English visitors. The coupons of a celebrated tourist agency were credentials in themselves, and I had not forgotten to provide myself with the three articles indispensable to the outfit of every traveling Briton—a guide book, a prayer book, and a bath sponge.