I had perfected the plan, thought out many of its details and discounted its risks, and had laid in many of the necessary disguises. But I was not destined to use them; for the direction of matters was wrested out of my hands by a stroke that checkmated me completely.
In the afternoon a letter came to me from Olga, vaguely worded, to the effect that Paula Tueski had sent for her and had given her what had been promised, and that all matters were now complete. She wished me to see her at seven o'clock.
I scribbled a line saying I would be there at the time.
The messenger, Olga's maid, went off with it: and almost before I thought she could have had time to get home and back again, she came hurrying in again breathless and excited, and all white with fear.
I thought at first she had been molested in some way in the streets—Moscow is not Eden—and I asked her what was the matter.
The reply, uttered in gasps and jerks of terror and with spasmodic sobs filled me in my turn with consternation.
Olga had been arrested during the girl's absence, and my aunt, the Countess Palitzin was like a mad-woman in her fear. She was all anxiety to see me.
"Arrested!" I cried, scarcely believing my own ears. "By whom? For what?"
"By the police; I don't know for what," wailed the girl. "But the Countess——"
"I'll go to her at once," I cried, interrupting her; and without another word I set off at once for Olga's house, with the greatest haste.