“Yes, the message, the papers,” was the unanimous assent to the president’s last decision.
He took up the papers one by one that were lying on the table, and divided them into two bundles.
“These,” he said, handing one of the packets to his neighbour, “are not of much value, and in view of the approaching crisis, in my opinion, had better be destroyed. Will you all glance through them and decide?”
The papers were handed round, carefully examined by most of those present, and the president’s decision being endorsed, they were consigned to the flames.
“This,” said the president, with a certain amount of solemnity, “is our account of the Tsarevitch’s abduction, as planned and executed by us; and this is the letter, which Taranïew must find means of conveying into Alexander III.’s own hands; these two papers, together with this small bundle of notes and plans, relating to our brotherhood, are the vital things which we will entrust to our chosen messenger for safe delivery into Taranïew’s keeping. We are thus giving into his hands, not only our own lives and liberties, who are assembled here to-night, but the last hopes of Dunajewski and our unfortunate companions who are in prison. Would to God there was no necessity for so much written matter—hopelessly compromising to so many of us—to be taken across the frontier, but unfortunately that necessity is an imperative one, and we must remember that we all may trust our messenger implicitly.”
All eyes were now turned towards Iván Volenski, as, almost trembling with emotion, he had received, from the president’s hands, the letters and papers which were held out towards him.
Descended from an ancient and once glorious family, Iván Volenski was now private secretary and confidant to his Eminence Cardinal d’Orsay, the Papal Nuncio, accredited to the courts of Paris, Vienna, and Petersburg. But the Polish blood within him could not rest peacefully in the midst of comfortable surroundings. The spirit of plotting peculiar to his countrymen—fanatical, hot-headed, and enthusiastic—had thrown him into the arms of this Socialistic brotherhood, for whose sake he daily risked his position, his liberty, his very life.
In the midst as it were of diplomatic and social life, Iván Volenski was a priceless ally to these plotters, who needed men of his stamp, that mixed in the very society they wished to annihilate, and could keep them well informed of the comings and goings of the exalted personages whom they wished to attack.
It was Volenski who found out for his comrades that the Tsarevitch was in Vienna under the strictest incognito, attended only by an elderly court functionary and a confidential Russian valet, and staying at the Hotel Imperial under an assumed name, and in the guise of a private gentleman, remaining in town to view the Carnival.
Then it was that the daring plan was conceived by some of these fanatics, to obtain possession of so august a hostage, and then barter his liberty against that of some comrades in Russia, who, implicated in an abortive intrigue, were awaiting condemnation, languishing in a Moscow prison.