“I am Anton Presvitch. What can I say to you, monsieur? I——”
“Say au revoir or any other old tag you please, and keep clear of this sort of business for the future. I wish you good luck in getting away;” and I opened the door, gave him back his revolver and bundled him out.
The time was now close at hand for me to start, and I hurried my final preparations.
My chief concern as I drove to the Palace was lest any of the men who had stopped me on the previous morning should be on duty and recognize me; but the luck continued to be on my side.
No difficulty was raised about taking Siegel’s card to Colonel von Kramen, and I was shown into an ante-room to wait. But I was not left alone, and could not therefore find means to get further into the Palace. But I was in luck again. Instead of the colonel, a young officer came to me, who said he was his secretary, and politely asked my business.
I invented a reply to the effect that the paper I represented wished me to get the career of so distinguished an officer as the colonel, and that I was very anxious to have a personal interview. I would not detain him more than a few minutes.
“I’m afraid it’s out of the question just now. The colonel is with his Royal Highness, and can scarcely be interrupted,” he said, as if with regret. “Cannot I tell you what you wish to know?”
“I’m also going to ask the colonel to endeavour to get me a word with his Royal Highness,” I answered glibly.
“Really!” He smiled. “I have heard of the enterprise of American newspapers, but I scarcely expected this.”
“It’s a usual thing,” I replied, as if it were. “In fact I am known to the Czar himself, and have had the honour of a long conversation with him.”