At a sign from Prince Sumaroff, Nadia disappeared.
“I invited the Count here this evening,” he said, “and in Nadia’s presence taxed him with his guilt. Unable to deny it and rendered craven by fear, he implored me to keep the matter a secret from the Czar. Moved by his entreaties, I said, ‘Write me out a confession and I’ll give you three days within which to get out of Russia.’ I little thought when he stepped into the boat that the hand of Death was already upon him. Heaven, you see, would not let him escape.”
“He met with a just doom,” commented Wilfrid, “dying by the very death he had appointed for another.”
For it was evident now that the four liveried ruffians at the masquerade were Baranoff’s hirelings and that it was not the Czarina’s life they sought, but Nadia’s.
“I think,” mused Sumaroff, “that we are now in a position to effect a reconciliation between the Czar and Czarina.”
“I would give much to see it,” remarked Wilfrid. “Through me,” he added moodily, “an empress seems destined to forfeit both husband and crown.”
“You have nothing to reproach yourself with,” said Sumaroff cheerfully. “You have acted throughout as an honourable man. Let us review the points in your favour. First, there’s the affair at the Silver Birch. That’s satisfactorily explained.”
“The kiss in the garden witnessed by the Czar,” said Wilfrid.
“Merely a reward for a great service to the State.”
“She lingered very much over it.”