“It was then we appeared. Madame, startled at finding her crime had been witnessed, gave vent to a loud shriek, whereupon Goltmann decamped, taking with him your latch-key and a number of letters, including one from Mariána Néstoff, for he had rifled your pockets the moment we had left you.”
“Then that accounts for my rooms being ransacked on that night!” I exclaimed.
“Yes,” he continued. “The letters and papers were forwarded by Madame to Petersburg, with the result that Mariána and the others were arrested. It was no doubt one of the chief objects of the plot to get Mariána exiled, because Madame herself loved you; but when she participated in the conspiracy she did not intend that you should die, and it was over this that the fatal quarrel arose. In order to make you believe you had committed the murder, she placed the revolver in your hand, and on the following day, fearing detection, she and Goltmann removed the body secretly. The whole motive of the plot, it seems, was the fact that she loved you, and desired to get Mariána out of the way.”
“And where is Madame now?” I asked.
“In Brussels. The Executive have sentenced her to death as a spy.”
A fortnight later the newspapers contained a telegram from Brussels headed, “Mysterious Death of a Russian Lady.” It stated that the body of the wealthy and beautiful Madame Teréshkevna, of St. Petersburg, had been found floating in the Meuse near Namur.
CHAPTER IX.
THE JUDAS-KISS.
Bah! How I detest tuberoses! Their odour is gruesome. There is death in their breath.
How overpowering the scent is! How it clings to the nostrils and stirs the memory!