The Baron did not resent the clear imputation that the other’s words conveyed. He seemed to take distrust as a matter of course. “Your excellency is mistaken,” he replied suavely. “This is no case of imposition. I have really found the Princess.”
“After twenty years?”
“After twenty years! The proofs are not completed, but the evidence is already morally conclusive. If I can recover the gold, as I believe I can, I should be ready even now to submit them to the Emperor, confident that he would consider them satisfactory.”
The Minister settled back in his chair with a long breath. The thing was too good, and came too pat to the moment, to be true. It seemed incredible that the Princess Napraxine, stolen at the age of three, should be found twenty years later and restored to her rightful position. Still, Demidroff was a wonderful man, and could be relied on not to undertake anything unless he had good prospects of carrying it through. If he brought forward a claimant, that claimant would be well fortified with proofs. And if she won the estates, the victory would be so overwhelming that it was worth taking some risks to win it.
“Tell me as much of the story as you think best, Baron,” he ordered.
The Baron obeyed. “As your excellency knows,” he began, “I have agents in terrorist circles—practically as many as they have in ours. Most things that they do reach me in the course of time, though usually too late to be of much value. Some months ago I began to realize Strogoff’s power, and it seemed to me that it might be well to find the Princess. It occurred to me to make investigations through one of my agents into the records of the Brotherhood dating back to the time of the abduction. In consequence I learned that the Princess had been stolen by Count Lladislas, a Pole, who had been committed to the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul three years before, at the behest of the Grand Duke Ivan, who admired the Countess Lladislas. After Lladislas was reported dead, the Countess married the Grand Duke morganatically.
“Lladislas escaped and stole the child. Possibly he had been misinformed and thought he was stealing his own child; I am not certain as to this. At all events, he passed her off as such. He took her to America, changed his name to Shishkin, and became professor in one of the small colleges. He still lives, and I think can be made to testify. I learned this only yesterday, and am still considering how to go about the matter.
“So much for the Princess. Now for the gold. I learned recently, through the same agent who gave me the first information in the matter of the Princess, that the Brotherhood had obtained a clue to the Orkney’s gold. My information was fragmentary, but I learned that it had dispatched an agent to New York to see a Mr. Ashton Caruth, to whom had been sent a letter which was supposed to tell something about the gold. I cabled Struve, our consul-general at New York, to get that letter at all hazards. He tried, but he bungled somewhere. His men killed a valet of Caruth’s, but did not get the letter. He does not know who did, but he believes it is now in the hands of a woman calling herself Marie Fitzhugh, who was in Caruth’s apartments that night, and who is probably the agent of the Brotherhood. She has not been identified yet, but she will be soon. Struve is keeping a close watch on her, and thinks that sooner or later she will lead us to the gold.
“So the case stands. I am awaiting developments. Any day—any hour—news may come. Did I speak too strongly when I said I had hopes?”
The Minister sprang to his feet and thrust out his hand enthusiastically. Naturally optimistic, he was already certain of triumph. “Hopes!” he cried. “Hopes! They are more than hopes, my dear Baron; they spell triumph.”