“Come, come,” he said. “The man’s name. Out with it, my Lord.”
“His name,” said Lord Hastings very gravely, “is Count Stephan Blowinski!”
“What!” roared the Czar, leaping from his seat. “Count Blowinski! The chief of the Russian secret police! Impossible, Lord Hastings. I would stake my life and throne upon his integrity, my lord.”
“Then you would lose both, sire,” said Lord Hastings gravely.
“But it cannot be!” protested the Czar of all the Russias. “Count Blowinski has been, almost, my right hand. He has served me well.”
“It is none the less true that he is a traitor,” replied Lord Hastings.
Realizing that Lord Hastings was in deadly earnest, the Czar became more calm.
“You must be mistaken, my lord,” he said quietly.
“Would that I were, your Majesty. But I am not. I have the proof here in my pocket,” and he tapped his breast.
“Then let me have it!” exclaimed the Czar. “Let me have it, man! I must know the truth of this matter at once.”