“I had some business in London, and afterwards went on a flying visit to see my mother down in Cornwall,” I said.
“Ah! How is she? I hope you told her to come and see me. I would be so very delighted if she will come and stay a week or so.”
“I gave her Your Highness’s kind message, and she is writing to thank you. She’ll be most delighted to visit you,” I said.
“Nothing has been discovered regarding Madame de Rosen’s letters, I suppose?” she asked with a sigh, her face suddenly grown grave.
“Hartwig arrives to-night, or to-morrow,” I replied. “We shall then know what has transpired. From his Majesty he received explicit instructions to spare no effort to solve the mystery of the theft.”
“I know. He told me so when he was here three weeks ago. He has made every effort. Of all the police administration I consider Hartwig the most honest and straightforward.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “He is alert always, marvellously astute, and, above all, though he has had such an extraordinary career, he is an Englishman.”
“So I have lately heard,” replied my pretty companion. “I know he will do his best on my behalf, because I feel that I have lost the one piece of evidence which might have restored poor Marya de Rosen and her daughter to liberty.”
“You have lost the letters, it is true,” I said, looking into her splendid eyes. “You have lost them because it was plainly in the interests of General Markoff, the Tzar’s favourite, that they should be lost. Madame de Rosen herself feared lest they should be stolen, and yet a few days later she and Luba were spirited away to the Unknown. Search was, no doubt, made at her house for that incriminating correspondence. It could not be found; but, alas! you let out the secret when sitting out with me at the Court ball. Somebody must have overheard. Your father’s palace was searched very thoroughly, and the packet at last found.”
“The Emperor appeared to be most concerned about it before I left Russia. When I last saw him at Tzarskoie-Selo he seemed very pale, agitated and upset.”