“Her Imperial Highness has something to report to Your Majesty, something of a very grave and important nature,” I ventured to remark.
“Eh? Eh?” asked the big bearded man, in his quick, impetuous way. “Something grave—eh? Well, Tattie, what is it?”
The girl, pale and agitated, held her breath for a few moments. Then she said:
“I know, uncle, that you consider me a giddy, incorrigible flirt. Perhaps I am. But, nevertheless, I am in possession of a secret—a secret which, as it affects the welfare of the nation and of the dynasty, it is, I consider, my duty to reveal to you.”
“Ah! Revolutionists again!”
“I beg of you to listen, uncle,” she urged. “I have several more serious matters to place before you.”
“Very well,” he replied, smiling as though humouring her. “I am listening. Only pray be brief, won’t you?”
“You will recollect the attempt planned to be made in the Nevski on the early morning of our arrival from the Crimea, and in connection with that plot a lady, a friend of mine and of Mr Trewinnard’s, named Madame de Rosen, and her daughter Luba were arrested and sent by administrative process to Siberia?”
“Certainly. Trewinnard went recently on a quixotic mission to the distressed ladies,” he laughed. “But why, my dear child, refer to them further? They were conspirators, and I really have no interest in their welfare. The elder woman is, I understand, dead.”
“Yes,” the Grand Duchess cried fiercely; “killed by exposure, at the orders of General Serge Markoff.”