Suddenly in the midst of their revels, for the one original drink had extended itself to three or four, a decrepit old ostler shambled in with a white and scared face. He was an aged man, toothless, and with a voice that scarcely rose above a hoarse whisper.
“Every man who wants to save himself had better run as fast as he can,” he croaked, with a meaning glance at the four men assembled in the small parlour. “The place is full of police. They have surrounded the carriage. They will be inside in a moment.”
The two younger men of the party took the hint at once, escaped through a side door and bolted somewhere away in the darkness of the night. The other two, staggered by the unexpected course of events, had not wit or agility enough to save themselves. In a second they were seized and handcuffed by the agents of the law.
Corsini’s inanimate form was carried in. General Beilski had taken the precaution to send a doctor along with the police. He had accurately guessed that those who wanted to “deport a certain person,” would take the precaution of drugging him first and keeping him under narcotics during the journey.
So heavily had the unfortunate young man been drugged, that it was some time before the doctor could bring him to a waking state. At last he opened his dazed eyes and gazed wonderingly round at the narrow little room in which he had been laid.
“Where am I?” he ejaculated slowly. His senses were not yet well ordered. He had hazy recollections of the Zouroff Palace, of a conversation with the Princess Nada, a confession to her of his ambition to be a great composer as well as a great executant, of a walk through the silent streets, the sudden appearance of some men. Then a blank.
The doctor bent over him and spoke in a soothing voice. In spite of the ashen and livid face, he recognised him at once. The doctor came from St. Petersburg in the company of the police, and he had seen the portrait of the new Director of the Imperial Opera in several newspapers. Here was some subtle mystery to which he had not the key.
“You are amongst friends, Signor Corsini. I am going to give you another injection, and after that you will have a little light food before we take you back to St. Petersburg.”
Corsini’s tired eyes wandered round the room. He saw the kind, compassionate face of the doctor bending over the sofa on which he had been laid. He saw also three men in police uniform and a tall, bearded man who was evidently the leader of the party. Then his eyes closed again and he relapsed into insensibility.
The doctor swore under his breath and turned to the tall, bearded man.