The letter that started this investigation is little different from others one receives from friends traveling in the Orient. By itself it does not clearly identify the family it describes; but, when the scene it pictures is coupled with the events narrated in the purloined diaries which the hands of some invisible diplomats have left behind, the student of the Russian Revolution will marvel at the skill with which some other Royal hands untied the knot of Fate.
II
WHAT MAY BE READ BETWEEN THE LINES
There may be those in official circles who will suggest that a case of mistaken identity is exhibited in the following quotation from the letter. "It is in a sort of arboreal enclosure, with all sorts of flowers and vigorous vegetation that characterizes this region," the letter reads. "Behind the ivy-covered wall that extends around the gardens and shuts out all intruders, I got a glimpse of that man through the heavy iron gate. He was smooth-shaven, slightly drooped, sprinkled with gray and with a scar upon his forehead near the roots of his hair—a little to one side. He was twirling a pruning knife in his left hand and speaking in English to a boy who scampered up to him ahead of four beautiful girls and a very dignified woman moving leisurely over the lawn in the direction of the gate.
"When the women reached the man's side they paused for a moment and asked a few questions in Russian. He seemed to be listening very attentively and answering only in monosyllables.
"Then I noticed the elder of the women unfold a well-known London newspaper and move closer to his side. They began glancing over its pages together and seemed to be deeply moved by an article they, apparently, were reading as they walked slowly toward the gate. Finally, when they were about ten feet from where I stood concealed behind one of the massive palms, the man raised his head from the page and, looking earnestly into the woman's eyes, exclaimed in a skeptical tone: 'Il n'aurait jamais cru le fait si ces messieurs n'avaient pu lui jurer L'avoir vu!… Tout ce que j'ai prédit!… Les faux nobles,—les plagiaires!' which means in English, "He couldn't have believed the thing unless these gentlemen had sworn they witnessed it!… All that I predicted!… The sham nobles!… the stealing authors!" The comment set me thinking.
"Who is he? I asked myself. Inside of five minutes I had heard him speak in English, in Russian and in French! I am certain that he is not a Frenchman,—although his accent would have proclaimed him a native of the Avenue des Champs Elysées. He had a Danish countenance, the eyes of English Royalty and the forehead of an early Christian martyr.
"No one I have talked to on the island seems certain of his identity. Some take the view that he is a retired millionaire, judging from the refined simplicity of his family and the strict guard the Government has furnished to protect his undisturbed retirement. Others hint that he may be, possibly, some very high dignitary, judging from the almost Royal homage that some people in the city pay to his person and family.
"The only reliable information I got about him was that he arrived upon the island aboard a man-o'-war accompanied by one of the richest tea merchants in the Empire. He declines all membership in any of the clubs, apparently satisfied to spend the time among his orchids and the lovely white-robed debutantes I saw blooming in that fascinating garden.
"Naturally I was very curious about the identity of this secluded family. But the only information given out about them by the chivalrous tea merchant or the Government officials is simply, 'Oh, the family have friends in India and are living in retirement.'"