“What is it?” inquired the bearded Prime Minister eagerly, putting down his glass of champagne untouched.
“Letchitzki! He is arrested!”
“Letchitzki!” echoed Boris Stürmer, who was in uniform, as he had been to a diplomatic function at the United States Embassy that night. “This is indeed serious for us! Why is he arrested? Who has dared to do that?”
“Goutchkoff, Minister of Munitions, has ordered his arrest for embezzlement—ninety thousand roubles!”
“Curse Goutchkoff!” cried Stürmer, starting up. “In that case, our friend Protopopoff, as Minister of the Interior, is powerless to act in his interest!”
“Is it really very serious?” asked the fair-haired young Baroness, who was at that moment holding the “saint’s” hand.
“Serious!” cried the uncouth Siberian peasant, who had so completely hypnotised both the women. “Very. If his trial took place he would certainly expose us! We cannot afford that. He has sent me this secret message placing the onus of his release upon me, and I must secure it at once. He has documents, letters I have written him. If they were found, then the whole affair must become public property!”
“That must not be!” declared Stürmer. “At any moment Miliukoff, or that young lawyer Kerensky, may get to know.”
“Kerensky was again arrested yesterday at my orders for his speech in the Duma,” said Rasputin. “I agree. The prosecution of Letchitzki must not proceed. It is far too dangerous.”
“Is there anything I can do?” asked the pretty Baroness, one of the most unscrupulous women in Russia.