“PUT not your faith in princes.”
Baron Demidroff, chief of the third section of the Russian police, the dreaded secret police, pondered this sentiment as he sat in the office of his immediate superior, the Minister of the Interior. The Baron had been thirty years in the police service, and for fifteen years he had been its chief. In those years he had weathered many a storm that had bade fair to sweep him from place and power, but never a one of them had seemed so menacing as that which he was confronting.
“‘Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king,’” he quoted, “‘he would not leave me naked to my enemies.’ You think the case is desperate, then?”
The Minister flung out his hands. “Judge for yourself, Baron,” he said. “Count Strogoff demanded your immediate dismissal. He was striking at me over your shoulders, of course. Your retirement meant mine, for I cannot afford to have one of Strogoff’s men in your place. The Emperor knew it, and that is the only reason you still hold your post. I did what I could, and will do what I can. But the most I could win was three months’ delay, and to get that I had to talk vaguely of great discoveries you had in train. You will have to make them, my friend, or it is good-by to power for both of us.”
The Baron considered. He was a vigorous young-old man, with a hawk-like face, crowned by beautiful white hair. His mustache and imperial were the pink of military exquisiteness. In his eyes slumbered a consuming fire.
“Humph!” he said slowly. “What discoveries would your excellency suggest?”
The other laughed shortly, but with no merriment in his tones. “First and best,” he answered, “find the Orkney and recover her gold. Its loss is Strogoff’s strongest card against you and me. I wish I had never recommended borrowing that money on the Princess Napraxine’s estates. To take it out of Strogoff’s control was like snatching a bone from a hungry dog.”
“Russia needed it,” hazarded the other.
“Of course Russia needed it. There was neither justice nor expediency in longer holding an estate for the benefit of a girl who had been missing twenty years, and who is certainly dead. The Emperor only anticipated when he decided to escheat part of it. But Strogoff had controlled it as trustee for ten years. It was madness to suppose that he would not seek revenge when forced to give it up.”
“You counted on his enmity when you recommended the escheatal.”