I smiled again.
“And yet you warn me of an outrage which is to be attempted with your connivance by this fellow Danilovitch—the very man who killed the Grand Duke—eh?”
“With my connivance!” he cried fiercely. “What do you insinuate?”
“I mean this, General Markoff,” I said boldly; “that the yellow card of identity found in Danilovitch’s rooms by the girl to whom he was engaged bore your signature. That card is, I believe, already in the hands of the Revolutionary Committee!”
“I have all their names. I shall telegraph to-night ordering their immediate arrest,” he cried, white with anger.
“But that will not save your agent-provocateur—the assassin of poor Marie Garine—from his fate. The arm of the revolutionist is a very long one, remember.”
“But the arm of the Chief of Secret Police is longer—and stronger,” he declared in a low, hard tone.
“The Emperor, when he learns the truth, will dispense full justice,” I said very quietly. “His eyes will, ere long, be opened to the base frauds practised upon him, and the many false plots which have cost hundreds of innocent persons their lives or their liberty.”
“You speak as though you were censor of the police,” he exclaimed with a quick, angry look.
“I speak, General Markoff, as the friend of Russia and of her Sovereign the Emperor,” I replied. “You warn me of a plot to assassinate the Grand Duchess Natalia. Well, I tell you frankly and openly I don’t believe it. But if it be true, then I, in return, warn you that if any attempt be made by any of your dastardly hirelings, I will myself go to the Emperor and place before him proofs of the interesting career of Danilo Danilovitch. Your Excellency may be all-powerful as Chief of Secret Police,” I added; “but as surely as the sun will rise to-morrow, justice will one day be done in Russia!”