“Has your mother told you nothing?” I asked, looking earnestly straight in her face.
“Nothing.”
“Immediately before her arrest she gave to Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Natalia certain letters, asking her to keep them in safety. Are you aware of that?”
“Mother told me so,” the girl replied. “She also believed that the letters in question must have fallen into General Markoff’s hands.”
“Why?”
“I do not know. She often said so.”
“She believed that the arrest and exile of you both was due to the knowledge of what those letters contained—eh?” I asked.
“I think so.”
“But tell me, Luba,” I asked very earnestly, “did your mother ever reveal to you the nature of those letters? I am here to discover this—because—well, to tell the truth, because your friend the Grand Duchess Natasha is in deadly peril.”
“In peril, why? Where is she?”