With no further words, Tanya flashed the light into the interior and quickly entered, while Rowland followed. The place had a musty smell but seemed quite dry, a fact afterwards explained by a double wall and a deep drainage system. The air was close but the electric torch burned brightly, revealing rows of shelves, each carefully lettered, upon which were ancient parchments, discolored and illegible, documents bearing pendant seals, in metal boxes tied with heavy silken cords. There was a grinning skull, a steel casque of the Middle Ages, a spearhead, and an ancient piece of sculpture draped with jewels; upon the floor at the further end bulging leather sacks, and a rack of modern rifles and ammunition. All these Rowland's glance took in at a first look, but his attention was quickly arrested by the actions of Tanya Korasov, who bade him hold the light while she went to a shelf upon the right where her nimble fingers quickly began running over a pile of documents, in modern envelopes, tied with tape. She read the superscriptions eagerly and at last came to the one she sought.
As she did so and took the envelope into her hands a slight gasp of triumph escaped her. Rowland looking over her shoulder read eagerly the fine script.
"Dossier de Gregory Khodkine."
And while Rowland's eyes sparkled with this discovery, Tanya without ceremony broke the seal and took out the contents, scanning the papers rapidly, smiling and exclaiming by turns.
"His history, here," she whispered over her shoulder to Rowland, indicating the first sheet. "And the evidence--there," pointing to the documents. "It is what I have longed for, for months. Evidence--proof. Look," she said excitedly. "Read. Gregory Hochwald. A commission in the Prussian Guards--1905--signed Wilhelm--1908--appointment to the Staff, 1910--Resignation. Liberal tendencies--(authorized at Potsdam) Russia 1911--Instructions from Graf von Stromberg--1912--(Head of the Secret Service, Monsieur)--Member of the Duma. Other letters of instruction 1913, 1914, 1916,--since the war, Monsieur Rowlan'. Is it not damnable?"
"Magnificent," gasped Rowland over her shoulder. "We've got him, Mademoiselle--" and with a grin he paraphrased triumphantly, "where Molly wore her beads."
She glanced at him in a moment of incomprehension, then thrust the papers into their envelope and slipped them into the belt beneath her gown.
"You see, Monsieur," she whispered, "Kirylo Ivanitch was well prepared to deal with this situation. He feared Grisha Khodkine always, but seemed to do as he wished. Now I know why--he was awaiting the overt act which should throw the man into his hands----"
"My heritage," whispered Rowland.
"And mine," said Tanya.