He was excited, enthusiastic!
“God’s hand,” he thought, “protects the cause. He placed this secret within my reach. And now, in two days, Taranïew can have the papers. His Eminence will have charge of them. The Papal Nuncio himself will unwittingly convey them across the frontier.”
His Eminence could not be “a suspect,” that was clear; if he declared a parcel to contain works of art belonging to himself, not the chief of the Third Section in person would dare to lay hands on the Cardinal’s property.
And feverishly he touched the secret spring of one of the candlesticks, and gazed, almost lovingly, into the velvet-lined receptacle within. Once more assuring himself that his door was safely locked, he took, from out of his breast-pocket, the papers entrusted to him yesterday by the committee, slipped them inside the hollow of the tree-trunk, and carefully closed the spring again. He then minutely examined the two candlesticks, and ascertained that the china Cupid, who was now guarding the papers, had a slightly damaged arm, from wrist to elbow, which made it easily recognisable from its twin. He then wrapped them up carefully in many layers of cotton wool, and multitudinous soft papers, and, taking the precious parcel to the Cardinal’s room, he locked it up in his Eminence’s valise, side by side with the episcopal ring, and other insignia of his sacred calling.
“Yes,” your Eminence, “you shall take our papers to St. Petersburg for us, hidden in the gift of an Emperor to a Princess; they will be safe enough there, I think.”
Five minutes later Iván, calm once more, sought out the Cardinal in his study; he handed him over the key of his valise, and gave him the assurance that the Emperor’s candlesticks were quite safely packed, without fear of the slightest damage.
“I am infinitely grateful to you, my son,” said his Eminence; “and now, as I am myself dining out, I think I may safely give you this, your last evening in Vienna, to dispose of, and say good-bye to any friends you may wish to see. You will have to leave instructions about our intended departure by the morning’s express, and be ready yourself for the journey. Good-night, Iván, and thank you.”
Volenski retired with a low bow, glad to think that he was off duty for the rest of the day. He hoped, that sometime during the evening, he would meet one or the other of his comrades, and be able to tell him to communicate with the others, that, owing to most propitious circumstances, he would start for Petersburg twenty-four hours sooner than was anticipated. They might, therefore, rest fully assured that the papers would be safe in Taranïew’s hands, by the Saturday morning at latest, more especially as he would now be travelling actually with his Eminence the Nuncio, and that, therefore, there was not the slightest fear of his being asked unpleasant questions, or having his papers examined. Those, belonging to the brotherhood, he had placed in a hiding-place, that was unparalleled for safety, and defied the eyes of the keenest-sighted Russian official in the Empire.
CHAPTER VII.
That same night his Eminence, as he had told Iván, was not dining at his hotel: he was spending an evening—the last of a series—in the company of Madame Demidoff, the most charming, the most mysterious, the most dangerous of those Russian grandes dames, who haunt the societies of Vienna, Paris, and London, live on apparently boundless means, are received everywhere, admired by the men, envied by the women, and feared by the staff and even the head of the respective Russian embassies.