“Ah!” I sighed. “I’ve been a good many thousand miles since last I saw Your Highness.”
“I know. And how is poor Marya? You found her, of course.”
“Alas!” I said in a low voice, “I did not. My journey was of no avail. She died a few hours before my arrival in Yakutsk!”
“Died in Yakutsk,” she echoed in a hoarse whisper halting and looking at me. “Poor Marya dead! And Luba?”
“Luba is well, but still in prison.”
“Dead!” repeated the girl, speaking to herself, “and so your long winter journey was all in vain!”
“Utterly useless,” I said. “Then, on returning to London a fortnight ago, I learned that you had mysteriously disappeared. I have been back to Petersburg and informed the Emperor.”
“And what did he say? Was he at all anxious?” she asked quickly.
“It is known that Drury has also disappeared, and therefore His Majesty believes that you have fled together.”
“So we did, but it was not an elopement. No, dear old Uncle Colin, you needn’t be horribly scandalised. Mrs Holbrook, the owner of this place, is Dick’s aunt, and he brought me here so that I might hide from my enemies.”