In fragments on the floor they’re laid.
Charles H. Lüders.
VERA SHAMARIN.
A STORY OF SIBERIAN EXILE.
By William Murray Graydon.
CHAPTER I.
INSPECTOR SANDOFF.
Victor Sandoff, the Inspector of that famous and dreaded branch of the Russian police known as the “Third Section,” was seated in a cheerful room at his headquarters. These, for the sake of secrecy, were located in the second floor of an old building which stood on a narrow and little frequented street not far from the Admiralty Place. The house was guarded day and night by police spies, and a secret entrance in the rear permitted Sandoff to enter and depart at will. As the history of Sandoff is a somewhat remarkable one, a few words concerning him will not be out of place at this point.
He was a man of tall and slender build, with a light beard and mustache, deep blue eyes, a ruddy complexion, and an expression that had a charm all its own. It betokened a strong individuality and a rare depth of character. At the time when this history opens he was just thirty years of age, and though possessed of a fortune that yielded an ample income, his time was devoted to the service of the Bureau of Police. He had already made his name dreaded among the revolutionary classes of St. Petersburg, and more than one unhappy prisoner immured in the Fortress dungeons, or plodding the snows of Siberia, owed his arrest and conviction to Victor Sandoff. He found a keen zest in the pursuit of criminals. In devoting his life to this work he was actuated by motives which none could question, for his father, Colonel Sandoff, who was Minister of Police at St. Petersburg during a long period, had been brutally assassinated ten years before, presumably by the Nihilists whose enmity he had incurred.
Though the assassins were never discovered, Victor Sandoff became more attached to his chosen profession each year, partly from a desire to avenge his father’s death indirectly—for he had lost hope of finding the real criminals after this lapse of time, and partly because he had inherited a natural aptitude for police work, his grandfather, as well as his father, having been identified with that branch of the ministry in his time. Sandoff was well educated and possessed a fluent knowledge of French and English, as well as his own language. He was well fitted to assume the high position that was his in the social and military circles of the Russian metropolis. He had wealth, for the fortune left him by his deceased mother yielded an annual income of thirty thousand rubles. But only on rare occasions was he seen in the clubs or salons of St. Petersburg, for the present state of Russia kept the Bureau of Police constantly on the alert. If Victor in his own heart preferred the gayer side of life he made no sign. He was untiring in his labors, and possessed the full confidence of the Czar and of the ministry.
He had an uncle in St. Petersburg with whom he was not on good terms owing to causes which will appear later. This was Count Sandoff, his father’s brother, a man sixty years of age, who divided his time between the clubs, the gaming table, and his yachts. He was reputed to be wealthy, but though ostensibly the owner of a mansion on the Court Quay and a country house on the Gulf of Finland, his losses at cards had covered his property with mortgages to the full extent of its value. Count Sandoff was living on the edge of a volcano into which he was liable to be precipitated at any day.