SUSPICIONS.
For many days the Petersburg Imperial press rang the changes unceasingly on this last benignant and forgiving act of the Tsar's.
It called upon all malcontents and revolutionists to say, if in this pardon were not displayed the utmost leniency and mercy. For was it not well known that Alexis Battenkoff was taken almost red-handed at the assassination of the late Tsar? And, indeed, who but one familiar, through long habit and confidence, with the movements of the Emperor, could have supplied the knowledge which assured the grim success of the dastardly attack? Was not Alexis always to be found, under suspicious circumstances, consorting with the most pronounced of the Nihilist faction; and could he be there save for one purpose only? Could one touch pitch and not be defiled?
Where then, in modern history, could another such act of condonation be pointed out, as this by which the Tsar had pardoned a participator in his father's murder? Was not that answer sufficient to all the treacherous suggestions, the menacing innuendoes, that had been ripe and bursting for so long in Petersburg? Perhaps now the organs of the opposition would cease their importunate blating, since the Tsar's inspection of Petropavlovsk had resulted in such a redress of imaginary wrongs, as not even their wildest dreams could have supposed possible. And was not the hand of Almighty justice made plainly visible, in that Alexis of Battenkoff was not permitted to taste again of liberty, but was stricken by death before the news of the Tsar's generosity could reach him? Let those who would, read well the lesson thus openly delivered to them.
Paul Patouchki read the enthusiastic laudations and pious thanksgivings in the silence of his apartments in the Chancellerie, and, as he did so, a slow, inscrutable smile crept over his face and lingered there.
It was not often that the chief recognised any direct interposition of Divine Providence in the political turmoils of Russia; indeed, in his own heart, he scoffed at all such superstitions, and acknowledged frankly that the Imperial Government neither desired, nor would appreciate, any such interference with its autocratic despotism.
But certainly, for once, he saw in the Battenkoff incident and death a most opportune intervention, whether Divine or otherwise, since by it the hands of the Imperial party could be strengthened, and for a time, at least, their policy be freed from too suspicious and too true aspersions. To his mind, like the last of the Stuart Pretenders, nothing in life so well became poor Alexis of Battenkoff as his leaving it, how and when he did. It was the one touch needful to stamp the Imperial inspection of Petropavlovsk with triumphant success, and to prove a satisfying sop even to so hydra-mouthed a Cerberus as the disaffected party; and therefore he was thankful, though none knew better than he that no actual improvement had been effected, no evils redressed, no reforms instituted in the governmental department of Petropavlovsk. The giant fortress closed its jaws just as tyrannically upon its victims, and abated not one jot or tittle of its iron-handed authority.
Patouchki, however, had too many anxieties pressing upon him to spend over much time in complaisant reading of political trumpet notes; he laid aside the Petersburg Messenger and turned toward his desk, on which lay a heavy correspondence not yet disposed of. As he sat down in his familiar place, the grim smile faded from his lips, to be replaced by a dark frown that knit together the black eyebrows, and accentuated the strong lines about the eyes and mouth. In truth, the chief was more concerned than he liked to admit, even to himself, at Ivor Tolskoi's news; and though at the time he endeavoured to treat it with cavalier disbelief, he nevertheless had an inner consciousness, of its truth, and a presentiment of complications to follow in consequence.
That Adèle Lamien should be in Petersburg, and the Chancellerie have neither warning of her intentions, nor knowledge of her presence, seemed, as he had said to Tolskoi, impossible; and yet, even as the word fell from his lips, he knew himself to be wrong, and Ivor to be right. The great spy system had failed for once, imperceptibly almost, and so far without damaging results, but it had, nevertheless, proved itself vulnerable, and had found its match in the quick wits and ready ingenuity of a woman. Even all the elaborate machinery of the Chancellerie had not been sufficient, when pitted against the devices of one weak, fugitive woman.
Yes, that was where the shoe pinched; to be duped by the very criminal they were pursuing, and to hear her laugh in their ears, as she slipped out of their fingers! And then, what a bad precedent was even this slight dereliction on the part of the Chancellerie; and how could the discipline of fear be kept up in the minds of the younger members of the great body, if such a defection became known? And the woman, Adèle Lamien, was brazen enough and clever enough, smarting as she was under her own wrongs, to circulate their blindness and failure, just where it would most redound to their discredit.