“Mother died just before the outbreak of the World War,” she went on. “It was necessary for me to find employment and I decided to become a nurse. I trained at St. Luke’s Hospital and went overseas at once upon graduation. It would be too long to tell you of my experiences, but finally I reached Russia and saw service in the hospitals there. Then came the revolution.” She drew in her breath sharply. “God! The horrors that we lived through—the Bolsheviki were fiends in human form!”
“And the Paltoff diamond?” he asked.
“Oh, the diamond.” She collected herself. “My uncle was for years Grand Master of the Imperial Court and trusted absolutely by the Czar. Just before he was made prisoner, the Czar took from the hilt of his dress sword, worn only on state occasions, the Paltoff diamond, and charged Uncle Dmitri, on his fealty to the Crown, to smuggle it out of Russia, and raise money upon it so that, should the Imperial family have to flee, something might be saved for them.”
“What happened next?” demanded Trenholm as she paused.
Miriam sighed. “My uncle saw his gallant son crucified before his eyes; his daughters, taken prisoners with other ladies of the Court, were transported by steamer to a loathsome prison. Before the vessel docked they threw themselves into the sea, oh, gladly”—she added, seeing Trenholm’s expression—“for the captain and his crew forced them to leave their cabin doors unlocked at night.” She paused and put her hands before her eyes. When she looked up, Trenholm saw tragedy mirrored in their dark depths.
“With other refugees Uncle Dmitri and I finally reached Vladivostok, in rags and our money gone. Oh, Mr. Trenholm, pray God that you may never know what starvation is!” She stopped to control her voice. “We lived in a hovel in the filthiest part of the city. I had lost my passport or it had been stolen from me. I applied to the American consul—he promised help but none came.”
“Poor girl!” Trenholm took her hand and pressed it warmly. “Would you rather stop?”
“No. Uncle Dmitri still had the Paltoff diamond and despite our agony would not part with it. When we dared to talk, for spies were all around us, we tried to plan to get the jewel safely out of Russia, even if we ourselves failed to reach the United States.” Miriam stopped to clear her throat, for her voice had grown husky with emotion.
“One morning I was half delirious from hunger and privation, when Uncle Dmitri came inside the hovel followed by a man,” she continued. “He crawled over to the straw on which I lay and told me that his companion was an American soldier who had saved his life in a brawl with drunken peasants. He feared that he had been recognized as Paltoff, the trusted friend of the Czar.”
“I see,” broke in Trenholm. “What next?”