"His Excellency knows he has but to command me at all times, and in any mission," replied Count Mellikoff, his musical voice sounding in marked contrast to the other's harsh tones; "my life is at the service of our father the Tsar."
"Well said," replied Patouchki, shortly; then, turning towards the others, he continued: "Gentlemen, we will dispense with your presence; we wish you good morning, sirs."
The salutation was a command, and so understood by those to whom it was addressed; they responded to it by bowing and withdrawing in silence; all but Ivor, who, as the chief's private secretary, was a privileged person.
As the door closed on the last departing agent, Patouchki turned somewhat hastily towards Count Mellikoff, and bade him be seated. Ivor Tolskoi's fair head was bent in studious attention over his official papers, and the chief had learned by experience that Ivor, despite his boyish face and girlish complexion, was both deaf, dumb, and blind when it behoved him to be so in the service of his master, even as his soft dimpled hand could, when occasion required, sheath itself in a gauntlet of iron, and deal a giant's blow.
"Vladimir Mellikoff," said the chief, dropping the more ceremonious title, "we have tried your metal often, and know of what true steel it is fashioned; but the mission I am now desired to commit to your skill and judgment is one requiring even more finesse, delicacy, and determination than any that have gone before. Let me put well before you its hazards and unpleasant features, that you may withdraw your acquiescence, if you so desire."
Count Mellikoff, whose mobile face had responded by varying expressions to Patouchki's warning, now flushed suddenly, and as suddenly paled again; he leant forward impetuously, and spoke rapidly, the nervous fingers of his right hand moving restlessly as he did so.
"In what have I failed, chief, that you should think such words necessary?"
"In nothing, Vladimir Mellikoff," replied the other, coldly and without change of expression or voice; "we have ever found you ready and willing and zealous in our service; indeed, but one reproach can be attributed to you, and that is more an attribute of temperament than a fault; trop de zèle, Vladimir, trop de zèle, has ruined more than one diplomat, and frustrated more than one mission."
Count Vladimir drew back as if struck an unexpected blow; his eyes flashed for a moment intemperately, the lines about his mouth tightened; then the habitual and tutored reserve and control of long apprenticeship reasserted itself, and when he bowed in answer to the implied reproof, his face was as expressionless and cold as that of his monitor. Patouchki continued:
"It goes without the saying that your mission will not take you into Africa, that was but a pour-parler; indeed, you must leave the East behind you and travel westward to the great continent of America; your work lies there, and if I mistake not, within the somewhat narrow limits of New York. You have read the minutes of the murder of Count Stevan Lallovich, and you know that our suspicions regarding the murderer all point to a woman, either as instigator or accomplice. You must find that woman, Vladimir. Stop," raising his hand imperatively, "we ask no impossible devoir; you shall have every facility afforded you, and as the case now stands, you will want no deadlier weapons than tact, finesse, and delicacy, the surest tools with which to meet a woman, since they are essentially her own."