Vassileffsky looked still more surprised. His demeanor taught me a good deal. I saw that Petrovitch had not trusted him very far. The financier had evidently kept all the threads of the intrigue in his own hands, as far as possible.
So much the better, I reflected. His removal would disorganize matters even more thoroughly than I had ventured to hope.
“What Princess?” the Captain asked.
“The Princess Y——, of course.”
He brightened up a little, as though this name, at all events, was familiar.
“No, she has not been here.”
“One can never trust these women,” I muttered aloud. “She has not been at all the same since the death of her Englishman.”
“Of Sterling, do you mean?”
“Yes. You heard of it, I suppose?”
Vassileffsky grinned.