‘So be it. In three days’ time, call here again at this hour. You will find me alone, and prepared to receive your revelation.’
Danevitch took his departure. That same evening Vladimir Nicolayeff was walking along one of the principal streets. He had been dining at a café, and was making his way back to his duties at the Foreign Office. A bearded man suddenly confronted him at a corner of a street, and said:
‘Nicolayeff, what was your reward for being false to your trust?’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded the porter angrily.
‘Why do you answer my question with another? I ask how much were you paid for being false to your trust?’
Nicolayeff was agitated and confused.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘The devil.’
‘Then, betake yourself to your kingdom.’
‘Not until I have done with you here. Again I ask you how much were you paid for giving up the key of Prince Ignatof’s safe to the beautiful Catarina? Or was it her beauty alone that tempted you?’