As soon as the "saint" had recovered from the fracas, he gave vent to a volley of fearful oaths, cursing the pretty woman who had been the cause of the assault.
"She shall be kicked out. I will see that she goes to the palace no more," he declared. "If a woman cannot manage her husband then she is dangerous. And Olga Violle has proved herself to be dangerous. I will see that Alix dismisses her to-morrow. And all on account of that thrice-accursed picture-making. To think that I—the Saviour of Russia, sent to these people by the Almighty—should be whipped like a dog!"
He strode up and down foaming with fury.
"The skin-dealer shall suffer!" he cried. "I'll make him pay dearly for this!"
Then, turning to me, he ordered me to go at once to Manuiloff, Stürmer's secretary, adding: "Bring him to me. Tell him that it is a matter of greatest urgency."
I had great difficulty in finding the man he had indicated, and who was one of Russia's "dark forces." He was not at his house, but by bribing the doorkeeper I learned that he would be found in a very questionable gambling-house in the vicinity. There I discovered him and drove him to the Gorokhovaya.
"Listen," the monk said as I ushered him in. "There is a furrier in the Nevski named Violle. Both he and his wife are dangerous revolutionists and must be arrested at once. You understand—eh?"
Manuiloff, the catspaw of both Stürmer and Rasputin, and who was well paid to do any dirty work allotted to him, did not quite understand.
"You denounce him—eh?" he asked. "There are reasons, of course."
"Of course there are reasons, you fool, or I should not bring you here at this hour to tell you of the conspiracy against the Throne. I make the allegation; you must furnish the proofs. Do you now understand?" asked the "saint."