In the vestibule his faithful Russian valet awaited him, whose joy at seeing his young master safe and well seemed unbounded. Behind him stood two or three official-looking personages, who saluted respectfully as the Tsarevitch alighted. Lavrovski was not there, but an elderly man with a decoration in his buttonhole advanced, as Nicholas beckoned to him to follow him to his rooms.
“No doubt, monsieur,” said the Tsarevitch, “you are here for the purpose of giving me an explanation, how some miscreants succeeded in keeping the heir to the Russian throne under lock and key for fourteen days, before your minions managed to discover my whereabouts, and forced them to let me go free?”
“Your Imperial Highness,” replied the old official, “is justly wrathful at what must seem to you our unpardonable negligence, but——”
“You must have known I had mysteriously disappeared the night of the opera ball.”
“Count Lavrovski only thought fit to inform his Majesty that your Imperial Highness was confined to your room with a slight indisposition.”
“And——?”
“And it was not till four days ago that he arrived at Petersburg bearing the terrible news.”
“You were told, of course, at once to set all your staff at work?”
“I was given no orders, your Imperial Highness; and no one, not even I, knows what passed between his Majesty and Count Lavrovski; nor was I officially informed of your Imperial Highness’s terrible predicament. The day before yesterday I was ordered to take two of my chief officers with me, and with Stepán, your Imperial Highness’s valet, to proceed at once to Vienna, and stay at this hotel under some assumed names, always ready to receive your Imperial Highness whenever you arrived.”
“This all seems very mysterious; I cannot understand it. Are you then not to attempt to trace the daring abductors of my person?”