"Have you any more to tell me?" she asked at last, in a voice that was almost a whisper; "if so, continue, I beg. I find the story very interesting, and—instructive."
Ivor replied by one of his coldest little laughs, and then resumed his narrative.
"You, mademoiselle, were not in Petersburg when the murder was committed, the Court being then at Gatschina, consequently you could not know how great was the excitement here, or how freely Count Mellikoff mingled his regrets and desires for summary justice to be meted out to the criminal, with the public expressions heard on every side. No one had known Count Stevan better than he; and no one had a better right to mourn his untimely fate. Unfortunately, Count Vladimir had not been in Petersburg during the night of the murder, nor indeed for a day or two before; consequently, he could throw no light upon Stevan Lallovich's movements at that time, and his regrets could only take the more passive form of words. You will see therefore, mademoiselle, why, when the Government discovered that Count Stevan's repudiated wife had fled the country—aided and abetted by some powerful political friends—and was heard of in America, it took prompt and decisive measures for her capture. And who could have been better chosen for this work than Count Mellikoff, since he had been Stevan Lallovich's best friend? I must remind you here, mademoiselle, that my confidences must be held secret between you and me; I am, as it is, overstepping my boundaries in speaking thus frankly of the Government's share in this business; but I do so deliberately, and am willing to bear the consequences."
"I shall be silent," replied Olga, simply, and Tolskoi continued:
"You know, mademoiselle, how and when Count Mellikoff started on this mission, though at the time of his departure you little suspected it was in the interests of a woman that he undertook so long a journey. You knew only that there was work to be done on behalf of the Government, and that he had been selected for that work. It is now two months since he left Russia; granting him all necessary time for easy travelling and stoppages, he must have reached the United States close on to a month ago, which would leave him this last month to lay his train, if not to find the woman. I have said, mademoiselle, that this woman calling herself Adèle Lallovich, was assisted through Russia, and over the frontier, by the influence of some strong political agent, one whose word and whose name carried the weight of coercion. Very well, this happened early in December; in January Count Vladimir leaves Petersburg, and reaches America early in February. A month goes by, and within the first week of March I meet Adèle Lallovich face to face here. Ah, I see you have followed my reasoning. The same powerful influence that got her out of Russia, when danger menaced her here, has now sent her back to Petersburg, where she is for the time being more secure from arrest than in the States. And the brain and the hand that have twice protected and saved her—a fugitive from justice—are the same brain and hand that planned and executed Count Stevan's murder, and that used her as their instrument. I think, mademoiselle, that Count Mellikoff will somewhat disappoint the expectations and shake the confidence of his Government, when he returns without any definite intelligence or any important information regarding the movements and condition of Adèle Lallovich."
Olga heard him throughout without word or sign, though not one detail of the terrible suspicion he so boldly advanced was lost upon her. Slowly but surely she followed his every gesture, his every sentence, never taking her eyes that had grown so strangely dark from his face. Every vestige of colour ebbed from her cheeks and lips, leaving her face white as alabaster beneath the dark furs of her close cap; a waving ripple of golden-lighted hair seemed the only sentient thing about her. She spoke at last, and her voice had a faint far-away echo in its whisper.
"What you would suggest, Ivor, is horrible, unnatural. What could be the motive for such a crime, and such a shielding of the criminal? If, as you say, it were possible for one brain to plot and plan it all, and another to fulfil it, still where would be the object, what would be the motive? I know whom it is you suspect, but his motive, Ivor, his motive?"
She bent forward eagerly, clasping her hands and looking into the very depths of his eyes. Ivor Tolskoi saw his advantage, and pressed it home. His opportunity had come, he was not one to lose it for lack of courage to deal one more swift sure blow. Meeting Olga's strained violet eyes with his, in which the steel-blue light flamed out, he said slowly and with distinct emphasis:
"Adèle Lamien, or Lallovich, is a rarely beautiful woman, Olga, and beauty such as hers is a dangerous attribute. Count Mellikoff is a worshipper of woman's loveliness, and the story goes that when Adèle Lamien became the wife of Stevan Lallovich, she cast off a former lover whose chains had begun to gall. Who that lover was, Olga, I leave to your imagination. But when Stevan Lallovich repudiated and threw aside the woman, and an Imperial ukase released him from his obligations, is it unlikely that she sought her former friend and protector, or that he, maddened by her beauty and her wrongs, determined to avenge them?
"That is the story, mademoiselle, and you now know why I swore to you that sooner than see you Vladimir Mellikoff's wife I would kill him with my own hand."