“Madame Demidoff… the candlesticks…” he gasped. “I do not understand——”
“Why, my friend, don’t look so scared. I was showing the bibelots to madame, and quite casually mentioned that I was somewhat disappointed at having, on their account, to give up a long-expected holiday: so she very kindly offered to take the candlesticks over to Petersburg for me, which offer I gladly accepted; and you see me with a burden less on my mind.”
Volenski was vainly trying to regain his composure.
“And did your Eminence show Madame Demidoff the secrets of the candlesticks?” he asked breathlessly.
“I really do not remember,” said his Eminence. “I daresay I did; but you seem very anxious about the matter. I don’t understand the reason.”
“My anxiety is entirely in your Eminence’s interest; my fear is lest the candlesticks are really safe in a lady’s keeping.”
“Is that all?” said his Eminence somewhat drily, and darting a quick glance from his penetrating eyes at Volenski, who bore the scrutiny bravely. “You may set your mind at rest then. I consider the candlesticks quite safe, my dear Volenski. So now good-night. I start early to-morrow morning. You will, I am afraid, have to stay another day longer, in order to see to the correspondence; but after that your time is your own, till we meet at Petersburg on the 3rd of next month. Good-night, my son.”
Volenski bowed low before the Cardinal, and, more dead than alive, he reached the quietness of his own room, where he could collect his thoughts and view the immediate future.
That the peril was deadly, that after this at any hour, any moment, the blow might fall, he realised in one moment.
All the papers relating to their plot—so carefully planned, so daringly executed—the draft of their manifesto to be placed by Taranïew in the Tsar’s hands, documents which in most cases bore the names of the conspirators, and which would send them, one and all, if discovered, to Siberia or to death, all were contained in the secret receptacle of one of the candlesticks, that even now were in Madame Demidoff’s hands. All that required no reflection; they were hard, undeniable facts.