Between the resignation of Prince Alexander and the election of Prince Ferdinand, Stambuloff had ruled as dictator, and with the arrival of Ferdinand the situation was only nominally altered. Ferdinand was Prince, but Stambuloff ruled the country. To remedying this state of affairs Ferdinand exercised all his craft, and his mother, the Princess Clementine, all her wealth.
The secret police of the country, like all its other services, were controlled by Stambuloff, and it became necessary for Ferdinand to organize a secret service of his own, paid out of his own pocket. The purpose to which this service was applied was not to detect crime and conspiracy, but to gain for Ferdinand information to the detriment of the principal men around him.
While he was so employed the energies of Stambuloff were concentrated in crushing a widespread conspiracy against Ferdinand, which had been conceived even before he arrived in Sofia. The ringleader in this was Major Panitza, an old friend and fellow-conspirator with Stambuloff in the days when Bulgaria was not yet a country with a separate existence. Panitza was a bluff, jolly fellow, afflicted with the complaint known to our American cousins as “slack jaw.” Consequently he was able to boast about the cafés of Sofia that the new Prince would soon be overthrown or killed, without much attention being paid to his talk.
But Stambuloff was alert, and found that Panitza had really organized a plot which was backed by quite half the officers in the Bulgarian Army, and that risings were arranged in several important centres at the same time. The method to be employed with Ferdinand was to seize him, and offer him the choice between instant resignation or sudden death. Nobody doubted which choice the new Prince would make.
Stambuloff had Panitza arrested by two of the other ringleaders of the plot, who had to perform this task in the presence of a band of men loyal to Stambuloff. A list of officers implicated was obtained, and precautions were taken that completely foiled the conspiracy.
That night a dramatic scene was enacted at a ball given at the Palace, possibly one of the most surprising entertainments ever offered, even by a Balkan ruler. Two hundred officers were bidden, and of these seventy were implicated in the plot. The Prince knew of their guilt, and they knew that he knew.
He stood to receive them in his glittering uniform. On one side of him stood his mother, a picture of aristocratic, frigid scorn. On the other stood Stambuloff, his face set in a cynical, mocking smile. As each of the culprits advanced, the furious Prince rolled his eyes to his mother, who gazed at the trembling man with cold, inscrutable rage, while the “Tapster” made no attempt to hide his derisive triumph.
It was a trying evening for the plotters. Whenever two or three gathered together to discuss the situation, they became aware of the presence of mysterious guests at the ball. They were shadowed and harassed, and knew not what might be the end of that evening. To their great relief they were allowed to depart unhindered.
Panitza was tried and sentenced to death. None thought the sentence would be carried out, Panitza least of all. He relied on his ancient comradeship with Stambuloff; and besides, it was recognized on all sides that he was a mere figurehead in the conspiracy. But Ferdinand insisted, and after his usual fashion rushed off to Carlsbad before the sentence was carried out. “He had Panitza shot in order to leave for Carlsbad the same day,” said Stambuloff to the Cologne Gazette.
Of course, the whole of the odium of this execution attached itself to Stambuloff. This enabled Ferdinand to gather round him many of the men who were spared, and who hated Stambuloff, both for the death of Panitza, and for the derision with which he treated them as unsuccessful plotters. With true Machiavellian craft, Ferdinand represented to these men that the whole blame for the severe repressive measures taken lay with Stambuloff.