“I nodded understandingly, saying: ‘I will bring the money, do not fail me,’ and closed the door of the car as the chauffeur cranked the engine.
“The rest of the day was taken up with arranging my affairs. I produced my letters of credit and drew out the money without difficulty from different banks until I had the requisite amount. It was a quarter of my fortune, but no sum was too great to spend in rescuing my son from his living death. After helping me Henri went to Baltimore on business connected with his Embassy—”
“Oui, I did,” again interrupted de Morny, “and I only return by ze midnight train.”
“I was sitting here by the fire about eight o’clock,” went on de Smirnoff, “thinking and planning for the future—the happy future—when Sacha and I could go to sunny Italy and in that ideal climate, he would regain his shattered health. We would take a villa on Lake Como— Just then the housekeeper brought in a cablegram. I tore it open—my son was dead!
“In letters of fire the message burned into my brain. How long I sat here I do not know; but when I rose my soul was frozen, my mind made up. She who was blood guilty should answer for her crime. I would keep my appointment, get the letters, and forward them to Russia, thus making certain that Sacha should sleep in no unhallowed grave, but be brought to the old vault in St. Petersburg to rest at last with honor unblemished by the side of his illustrious ancestors.
“At the time appointed I was in the Trevors’ vestibule, and I tapped softly on the door. In a few minutes Hélène admitted me, and we tiptoed softly into what was apparently a private office. The light was on and I glanced about the room to see if we were alone; the open safe attracted my attention. Hélène noticed my glance in that direction.
“‘My papers are there with my jewelry. I had to get the combination before I could see you. Have you the money?’
“I nodded. She went to the safe and picked up a small bundle. As I watched her my hand closed over a hat-pin lying on the top of the desk I was standing by; I glanced down at it—the long, sharp-pointed steel caught my attention. It was an ideal weapon for my purpose; far better than a revolver shot which might arouse the household. As it happened the pin broke in the wound—” There was not a trace of feeling in his voice.
“Hélène returned, and in silence I handed the money to her and watched her count it. Beautiful as ever, living in the lap of luxury—while he, Sacha, her devoted lover always, had experienced the dregs of life in that hell upon earth. Merciful God! Could such things be?
“In silence she handed me the papers; in silence I took them. She was about to speak when her eye caught the glitter of a ring on the floor. She dropped on one knee to pick it up, resting her left hand against my thigh to balance herself.