Then he handed the missive up to the Judge, and stood waiting further developments.
The sensation caused by the Italian's statement was beyond all precedent; the excitement of the crowd burst all restraints; it seemed as though, having once doubted Patricia Hildreth, they could not now be loud enough in vociferating her innocence.
The clamour lasted but a few seconds; but in that short interval Vladimir Mellikoff caught sight of such a sea of angry, menacing faces, and heard the echo of such violent threats as to shake even his trained courage, and warn him of the perilous position he should occupy if once that public Nemesis was set loose.
The rage and anger of his own heart knew no bounds. To be duped and done in such a fashion by his own paid assistant; to find out all too late that a spy had been dogging his actions at every step of the way, and that that spy had been sent by the Chancellerie—by Patouchki, his chief, on whose honour he would have staked his own!
This then was his reward, this was Russia's gratitude! A thrust in the dark, a blow from behind, and he was laid low, unable to defend himself or fight for his life. He realised all too well what this failure meant for him—disgrace utter and complete; the Chancellerie never forgot or forgave a false move in the game, any more than it ever remembered the many successes and triumphs achieved for it. To fail once was sufficient, when one had reached so high an altitude as his, and with failure came a downfall more disastrous and engulfing even than that of death.
And Olga? But no, he must not think of her now, or he should go mad. He must forget her, put her by, believe in her, trust her; he must pull himself together, he must not succumb like the veriest novice before this blow. Were not all those cruel faces turned upon him, those hundreds of eyes peering with wonder and delight at him? He must not let them see any fear upon his face, they must not hear a word of cowardice from his lips.
Then he became aware of a single voice addressing him, and the sounds slowly resolved themselves into Judge Anstice's familiar tones, asking him to examine the cablegram, and state if the Italian's translation of the cipher was a correct one.
He took the slip of flimsy paper with a hand that never trembled, and scanned the few bald lines. Mattalini had read them only too correctly, they were confirmation positive of the utter breakdown of all his elaborate structure.
He could have leapt upon the Italian then and there in his blind rage, and struck him to the ground; he could have beaten him senseless and felt a savage joy in each blow he dealt him. Had he not ruined him for ever, not only in the eyes of the Chancellerie, but in those of Olga Naundorff? That was where the lash cut deepest, that was the agony impossible to bear.
And yet, despite all this mad tumult going on within him, he still was conscious of standing up and answering Judge Anstice in his usual controlled voice. The Italian Mattalini had perfectly translated the cipher, the message ran as he had said. A person called Adèle Lamien had been arrested in Petersburg; he should immediately demand further confirmation of the matter; in the meantime he left the custody of Miss Hildreth in the hands of the Bench. He had no statement to make; he had acted throughout in good faith and according to instructions; he would at once communicate what further particulars he received to Judge Anstice; without doubt his Government's Ambassador would stand surety for the integrity of his future movements. He begged to return the cablegram to the keeping of the Bench.