De Smirnoff bowed his head in grave acknowledgment, and then signed to the men to draw up their chairs. It was a scene Dick never forgot: the room, lighted only by the winter twilight and the bright blaze of the cannel coal, the five men seated in a circle around the hearth, the firelight flickering on their excited faces. De Smirnoff was by far the calmest of them all.
“It will not take long in the telling,” he began; “but to make the present situation clear, I must speak first of the past. Hélène de Beaupré’s mother, Olga Weletsky, was a Russian. She married Claude de Beaupré, and they lived first in one country and then in another, finally returning to St. Petersburg. There they lived in comparative poverty and obscurity, having spent most of their patrimony in their wanderings about the world.
“About five years later they both died within a very short time of each other, leaving their only child, a girl of twenty-three, in the care of an uncle, Colonel Weletsky. I saw her often before the death of her parents. She was very beautiful then—the beauty of the devil—the beauty that destroys men’s souls.
“My only son, Sacha de Smirnoff, met her frequently at a friend’s house, and fell madly in love with her. She returned his passion, but she would not consent to a marriage ceremony being performed, as she said she did not believe in the solemn rites of the church. I think she simply did not wish to bind herself legally to one man. They lived together for two years.” He paused, then resumed his story.
“While this was going on, I was in Persia looking after some mining interests, which I inherited from an uncle. News travels but slowly in that country of no telegraphs, telephones, or railroads, and during those two years and more I heard but seldom from Sacha. Therefore, you can understand my horror and my agony when, on my return to St. Petersburg, I found that my son had been arrested as a nihilist, secretly tried, and sent God knows where.” His voice shook with feeling. “Hélène had also vanished. I joined the Secret Police as a political spy. For nearly four despairing years I searched Siberia for my boy, visiting every penal settlement in that vast land.
“There is no need of recounting the humiliation and suffering I endured during that time; the worst agony being my anxiety for my son. Finally, I found him in the worst settlement of all, broken in health and in spirit, a physical and almost mental wreck. Remembering him as I did in the glory of his young manhood, tall, handsome, brave, it was a fearful shock to me to find him crippled, scarred, and cringing. Shortly after my arrival Sacha fell ill with brain fever, and for days I nursed him, fearing he would never recover. He rallied finally, and slowly day by day regained his strength. I did everything I could to lighten his confinement, while all the time planning his escape.
“One day a fresh batch of political prisoners arrived, among them an old friend of Sacha’s. When he found who I was, he told me that he himself after Sacha’s arrest, had gone to Hélène and given her proofs of Sacha’s innocence of the crime he was charged with, thinking that of course she would use the papers to clear him. But the Vampire was already tired of Sacha. She disappeared with the papers, believing that safe in the wilds of Siberia Sacha would never trouble her again, and she could live her own life untroubled by the past.
“Boris advised me to recover those papers, give them to the proper authorities, and secure my son’s release. It seemed the only thing to do, as Sacha’s health was such that to try and escape in the rigors of that climate was courting certain death. Therefore, I left Siberia, first arranging with one of the Cossack officials at the settlement to send me word every month of my son’s physical condition, care of my Paris bankers.” He stopped and sighed deeply, then drew out his cigar case. “Will you not join me, I speak more calmly when I smoke?
“I will not weary you with a detailed account of my search for Hélène. My connection with the Secret Police helped me, and I was of great use to the Bureau, as few suspected that I belonged to the force. Finally I traced Hélène to Italy, Paris, England, and then here. I knew of the Grand Duke’s proposed visit, and asked permission to accompany him; and I was sent on as special agent to guard him against the Camorra, as you already know,” to Dick. “I came on to Washington before the Grand Duke, however, and meeting Henri,” placing his hand affectionately on de Morny’s shoulder, “an old friend of Sacha’s, accepted his invitation to visit him during my stay here. That was on the second of February.
“On Wednesday morning as I was going out of the front door, I was astounded to see Hélène sitting in her automobile by the curb. I believe her chauffeur was in the vestibule waiting to deliver a note. I paid no attention to him but went straight to the limousine and opened the door. I have altered little, and Hélène knew me at once. She shrank back in her seat.