“And now, Signor, I think it is time you gave us the name of this mysterious informant. I do not know whether his action is dictated by loyalty, or the hope of reward. But anyway, he must be rewarded, and handsomely too.”
The Emperor concurred warmly. “Whoever serves us will not find us niggardly or ungrateful,” he said.
“Alas! I have great hesitation in mentioning it to your Excellency, for my strange friend is by no means an estimable person. Speaking plainly, he is a malefactor, and has escaped from the mines of Siberia.”
“In other words, the price of this very important information is a handsome reward and a free pardon. Well,” the Count looked towards the Emperor, “I suppose I have your Majesty’s permission to promise both.”
“We do not go back on our word,” was the autocrat’s grave answer. “A deed like this, performed from whatever motive, purges his offences, whatever they may be.”
And then, reassured, Corsini gave the name. “A big, bearded man, born on the Prince’s estates, known as Ivan the outlaw, nicknamed Ivan the Cuckoo.”
“I know of him by reputation—a desperate fellow, according to his record,” remarked the Count. “And how did you first become acquainted with him, Signor Corsini? But if you prefer to keep it a secret, I will not press the question.”
Corsini took advantage of Golitzine’s generosity. He did not want to confess that he had helped a notorious criminal to escape from justice. “I think I would prefer to guard it as a secret, your Excellency, since you give me permission to do so.”
“Yet, if I may venture to relate a little history to you,” he added a moment later, “I think I might be able to convince you that this wretched man, brutal and degraded as he became, was more sinned against than sinning.” In a few words he told him of the offences of the Zouroffs, father and son, against the outlaw’s family.
The Count made no comment. After a few moments he rose, to intimate that the interview was at an end.