He knew from his own experience that the facts were not sufficiently mysterious to excite public interest, and as his Eminence’s name had not once been mentioned by Madame Demidoff, it was not very likely that the Cardinal would hear of the matter from any outside source. Madame evidently did not mean that his Eminence should hear about her loss; that was only natural, no one likes to own to gross carelessness, least of all a lady. Oh! that he might only get rid of the fear that already she knew all, and was on the same quest as himself, backed by Russian money and Russian influence! But even then, at present, he was ahead of her. She had not interviewed Grete Ottlinger, she could not know where the candlesticks were, and before Grünebaum’s shop was open the following morning he meant to be on the spot, ready to pay away all he possessed for the priceless receptacles of the secret papers.
That night, as he well knew that sleep would never come to him, he spent in getting through all arrears of work for his Eminence. He meant, as soon as he had seen Grünebaum and purchased the candlesticks, to start at once for Petersburg, and deliver the papers to Taranïew. Three days had now elapsed since the abduction of Nicholas Alexandrovitch; three days, during which Iván, absorbed in the harrowing search for the missing messages, had not seen his comrades. Every day added one to the many dangers of discovery, and Dunajewski and his comrades were still pining in the Moscow prisons.
Oh! this burden of responsibility seemed too hard to bear; the terrors of carrying the secret papers seemed as nothing compared with what he had to undergo. But, thank God! all these anxieties would be over by to-morrow at the latest, and then in his heart of hearts there first occurred to Iván the wild longing to give up all these intrigues and plots; be content to live the life of a quiet citizen, and leave Russian politics steadily alone.
The busy night he spent acted soothingly on Iván’s nerves. He worked until the tardy winter’s dawn peeped in through the curtains, then, having refreshed himself with a bath and a good breakfast, he once more sallied forth on his quest, and nine o’clock found him on the Opernring, outside Grünebaum’s shop, waiting to see the shutters taken down.
The moment that was done he stepped in and asked to see the proprietor.
A snuffy old Jew, with flat nose and broad lips, with eyes like a toad’s—so nearly dropping out of his head, that he appeared to be wearing spectacles for the sole purpose of keeping them in their sockets—came forward, rubbing his hands benignly one against the other, evidently wondering who his very early customer could be. He was accustomed to mistrust everybody.
“A very good-morning, sir; and what may I have the pleasure to show your Excellency to-day?—jewellery?—antiques?——”
“I have come on a matter of private business,” said Volenski briefly. “You had better show me into your office, for your own sake.”
The Jew looked at him keenly for a moment from behind his spectacles, then said suavely—
“I have no business that I should wish to conceal; but if your Excellency will take the trouble to walk this way——” And he led the way to a well-lighted, luxurious little office at the back of the shop, where a quantity of voluminous ledger and cash books testified to the extent and prosperity of his business.