Most Interesting Stories of All Nations Part 34

"I do not know you. Who are you?" the baroness managed to whisper, by a supreme effort.

"No wonder; I am so changed," replied Princess Anna. "But YOU are just the same. There is hardly any change at all."

Natasha began to recover her composure.

"I don't understand you," she said coldly, contracting her brows.

"But I understand YOU perfectly."

"Allow me, princess," Kallash interrupted her, "permit me to have an explanation with the baroness; she and I know each other well.

And if you will pardon me, I shall ask you in the meantime to withdraw."

And he courteously conducted his sister to the ma.s.sive oak doors, which closed solidly after her.

"What does this mean?" said the baroness, rising angrily, her gray eyes flas.h.i.+ng at the count from under her broad brows.

"A coincidence," answered Kallash, shrugging his shoulders with an ironical smile.

"How a coincidence? Speak clearly!"

"The former mistress has recognized her former maid--that is all."

"How does this woman come to be here? Who is she?"

"I have told you already; Princess Anna Chechevinski. And as to how she came here, that was also a coincidence, and a strange one."

"Impossible!" exclaimed the baroness.

"Why impossible? They say the dead sometimes return from the tomb, and the princess is still alive. And why should the matter not have happened thus, for instance? Princess Anna Chechevinski's maid Natasha took advantage of the confidence and illness of the elder princess to steal from her strong box, with the aid of her sweetheart, Kasimir Bodlevski, money and securities--mark this, baroness--securities in the name of Princess Anna. And might it not happen that this same lithographer Bodlevski should get false pa.s.sports at the Cave, for himself and his sweetheart, and flee with her across the frontier, and might not this same maid, twenty years later, return to Russia under the name of Baroness von Doring? You must admit that there is nothing fantastic in all this! What is the use of concealing? You see I know everything!"

"And what follows from all this?" replied the baroness with a forced smile of contempt.

"Much MAY follow from it," significantly but quietly replied Kallash. "But at present the only important matter is, that I know all. I repeat it--ALL."

"Where are your facts?" asked the baroness.

"Facts? Hm!" laughed Kallash. "If facts are needed, they will be forthcoming. Believe me, dear baroness, that if I had not legally sufficient facts in my hands, I would not have spoken to you of this."

Kallash lied, but lied with the most complete appearance of probability.

The baroness again grew confused and turned white.

"Where are your facts? Put them in my hands!" she said at last, after a prolonged silence.

"Oh, this is too much! Get hold of them yourself!" the count replied, with the same smile. "The facts are generally set forth to the prisoner by the court; but it is enough for you in the meantime to know that the facts exist, and that they are in my possession. Believe, if you wish. If you do not wish, do not believe. I will neither persuade you nor dissuade you."

"And this means that I am in your power?" she said slowly, raising her piercing glance to his face.

"Yes; it means that you are in my power," quietly and confidently answered Count Kallash.

"But you forget that you and I are in the same boat."

"You mean that I am a sharper, like you and Bodlevski? Well, you are right. We are all berries of the same bunch--except HER" (and he indicated the folding doors). "She, thanks to many things, has tasted misery, but she is honest. But we are all rascals, and I first of all. You are perfectly right in that. If you wish to get me in your power--try to find some facts against me. Then we shall be quits!"

"And what is it you wish?"

"It is too late for justice, at least so far as she is concerned,"

replied the count, with a touch of sadness; "but it is not too late for a measure of reparation. But we can discuss that later," he went on more lightly, as if throwing aside the heavy impression produced by the thought of Princess Anna's misery. "And now, dear baroness, let us return to business, the business of Prince Shadursky! I will think the matter over, and see whether anything suggests itself."

He courteously conducted the baroness to the carriage, and they parted, to all appearance, friends. But there were dangerous elements for both in that seeming friends.h.i.+p.

XIV

GOLD MINING

A wonderful scheme was hatched in Count Kallash's fertile brain.

Inspired by the thought of Prince Shadursky's newly replenished millions, he devised a plan for the gang which promised brilliant results, and only needed the aid of a discreet and skillful confederate. And what confederate could be more trustworthy than Sergei Antonovitch Kovroff? So the two friends were presently to be found in secret consultation in the count's handsome study, with a bottle of good Rhine wine before them, fine cigars between their lips, and the memory of a well-served breakfast lingering pleasantly in their minds. They were talking about the new resources of the Shadurskys.

"To take their money at cards--what a wretched business--and so infernally commonplace," said Count Kallash. "To tell you the truth, I have for a long time been sick of cards! And, besides, time is money! Why should we waste several weeks, or even months, over something that could be done in a few days?"

Kovroff agreed completely, but at the same time put the question, if not cards, what plan was available?

"That is it exactly!" cried Kallash, warming up. "I have thought it all over. The problem is this: we must think up something that would surprise Satan himself, something that would make all Hades smile and blow us hot kisses. But what of Hades?--that's all nonsense. We must do something that will make the whole Golden Band throw up their caps. That is what we have to do!"

"Quite a problem," lazily answered Kovroff, chewing the end of his cigar. "But you are asking too much."

"But that is not all," the count interrupted him; "listen! This is what my problem demands. We must think of some project that unites two precious qualities: first, a rapid and huge profit; second, entire absence of risk."

"Conditions not altogether easy to fulfill," remarked Kovroff doubtfully.

"So it seems. And daring plans are not to be picked up in the street, but are the result of inspiration. It is what is called a 'heavenly gift,' my dear friend."

"And you have had an inspiration?" smiled Sergei Antonovitch, with a slightly ironical shade of friendly skepticism.

"I have had an inspiration," replied the supposit.i.tious Hungarian n.o.bleman, falling into the other's tone.

"And your muse is--?"

"The tenth of the muses," the count interrupted him: "another name is Industry."

"She is the muse of all of us."

"And mine in particular. But we are not concerned with her, but with her prophetic revelations."

"Oh, dear count! Circ.u.mlocutions apart! This Rhine wine evidently carries you to misty Germany. Tell me simply what the matter is."