“When the trouble came at Warsaw he had to fly, and he was carrying certain papers with instructions to friends of the Fraternity to Cracow. A raid is expected there; and there are papers which threaten us all. Even my own dear mother is in danger. He told me to carry those papers through to Cracow at any cost; to get your help if need be, and to say that your friend, Count Ladislas, was also involved. I was to tell you this, if you showed any reluctance to help me. But now what can we do?” and she looked the picture of dismay.
“You were travelling as an English girl?”
“Yes, as Miss Mary Smith. He got passports for me in that name and for himself as Ivan Grubel, my servant.”
“Where are they?”
“He has them and the rest of the papers. They are sewn into his coat.”
“Why did he make all this methodical preparation?”
“He was recognized, I think, in Bratinsk. That was why we were driving away. He expected to be pursued.”
“If I get the coat, can you find the papers?”
“Yes, but—he is—dead;” and she shuddered.
“We have to think of the living. Yourself, my friend, and your mother.”