"I had never thought of that!" replied the monk, halting erect before her. "She might, in that case, betray us! Truly thou hast spoken words of wisdom!"
"Yes. In the girl I discern a possible enemy—and in this crisis we should take no risks."
"I agree. I will take steps. If she has betrayed us, then she shall be tried for the murder of Princess Tchekmareff. Whatever allegations she makes against me will not be allowed to transpire at the trial."
"Or get Nikki to sign an order for her banishment to Siberia as an exile," suggested the scheming Empress.
"Ah! my daughter, thou art always wise. An excellent plan! I will first make inquiries, and then ask for the Emperor's signature."
Though matters had assumed the most serious aspect in those last days of November, Rasputin, bent upon revenge and full of chagrin at being unable to obtain possession of those incriminating letters of the high priestess of his disgraceful cult, Madame Vyrubova, was busy making inquiries, and among those he questioned was Ivan Ivanovitch, a bookbinder in Petrograd, who was Olga's lover, and who regarded the monk with considerable disfavour, a fact of which Rasputin was unaware.
The young man, in consequence of the nature of the questions put to him by the monk, guessed what was in his mind, and that same day told Olga that Rasputin disbelieved her story how the valet had drunk the glass of kümmel that had been poured out for his master, and that, full of chagrin, he was plotting a revenge.
Of this we knew nothing till afterwards. But on the same night as Ivan Ivanovitch revealed the truth to her Olga called upon Rasputin, and I admitted her.
"I wish to see the Father," she said, in a deep, earnest voice.
"I will go and see if he will receive you," I answered, and I left her in the ante-room.