“Then…?” asked Iván eagerly, “Dunajewski——?”
“Is in England safely to-day, and the Tsarevitch back in Petersburg.”
“I do not understand,” said Iván, bewildered. “How, then, were the negotiations conducted?”
“In the simplest way imaginable,” said Mirkovitch, “by a woman, my daughter.”
“Maria Stefanowna?”
“She, it appears, had some womanish scruples, shared, by the way, by many of our comrades, as to the advisability of doing away with our prisoner as I had proposed all along, and accomplishing by terror what we could not do by diplomacy. When you were not heard of, and it became clear that some untoward fate had reached you, we all voted Nicholas’ death sentence.
“She, on her own initiative, thought out the daring plan of making that old fool Lavrovski be the bearer of our manifesto to the Tsar, in exactly the same terms as on the letter you were yourself taking to Taranïew. Without consulting the committee she sought him out, for we had previously ascertained that through sheer terror he had persistently put off communicating with the government at Petersburg. With the dagger, so to speak, at his master’s heart, Lavrovski had no chance but to accept, and he became the bearer of our ultimatum. What passed at Petersburg between himself and the authorities we, of course, do not know, but three days ago the official papers announced the liberation of the convicted Nihilist Dunajewski, and his comrades, and their safe conduct across the frontier. Some of our committee met them there with money and clothes, and Maria went with them, as we all thought it would be safer for us all if she stayed in England for a while.
“The evening of the same day the Tsarevitch was led blindfold out of my house in the Heumarkt, and thus was terminated the finest plot ever invented by our great brotherhood.”
“Thank God for that,” said Iván fervently.
“Curse you for compromising us all and our cause, just after our glorious victory,” retorted Mirkovitch savagely, “and curse our folly for trusting you so much.”