“At present I can offer no opinion,” he answered. “The woman might, of course, have been mistaken, and, again, I doubt whether Danilovitch would dare to show himself so quickly in Petersburg. To do so would be to defy the police in the eyes of his fellow-conspirators, and that might have aroused their suspicion. But, sir,” Tack added, “I feel certain of two facts—absolutely certain.”
“And what are they?” I inquired eagerly, for his information was always reliable.
“Well, the first is that the outrage was committed with the full connivance and knowledge of the police, and secondly, that it was not the Grand Duke whom they sought to kill, but his daughter, the Grand Duchess Natalia, and you yourself!”
“Why do you think that?” I asked.
“Because it was known that the young lady held letters given her by Madame de Rosen, and intended to hand them over to the Emperor. There was but one way to prevent her,” he went on very slowly, “to kill her! And,” he added, “be very careful yourself in the near future, Mr Trewinnard. Another attempt of an entirely different nature may be made.”
“You mean that Her Highness is still in grave danger—even here—eh?” I exclaimed, looking straight at the clean-shaven man seated before me.
“I mean, sir, that Her Highness may be aware of the contents of these letters handed to her by the lady who is now exiled. If so, then she is a source of constant danger to General Markoff’s interests. And you are fully well aware of the manner in which His Excellency usually treats his enemies. Only by a miracle was your life saved a few weeks ago. Therefore,” he added, “I beg of you, sir, to beware. There may be pitfalls and dangers—even here, in Brighton!”
“Do you only suspect something, Tack,” I demanded very seriously, “or do you actually know?”
He paused for a few seconds, then, his deep-set eyes fixed upon mine, he replied.
“I do not suspect, sir, I know.”