Part 36 (1/2)

”I looked at the dossiers on my husband's table because Monsieur Lachkarioff asked me to do so,” she declared. ”He told me he was a friend of Soukhomlinoff, and that he was doing all he could to a.s.sist in clearing him of the charges levelled against him. I believed him, alas!--I was foolish enough to believe that he spoke the truth. And now he has betrayed me!”

”I suppose you were infatuated by the man,” laughed the monk scornfully.

”If you were so weak, then you must pay the penalty.”

”And that is--what?” she asked breathlessly, and pale as death.

”Exposure,” replied the charlatan who was the head of the traitorous camarilla around the throne. ”Our dear land is in serious peril to-day, therefore those who attempt to betray her should be held up as examples to others.”

”But you will not--you'll not let anyone know of my indiscretion!” she begged.

”That certainly is my intention,” was his hard reply. ”This statement was made to me by your lover, and it is but right that it should be investigated, so that we may know the extent of the harm that you have done.”

The frantic, despairing woman, bursting into tears, threw herself at the feet of the ”miracle worker,” begging hard for mercy.

”Think!” she cried. ”Think what it will mean to my husband and myself. He will probably be placed under arrest and lose his post, while I--I would rather die than face such exposure.”

”Ah! my dear Madame,” said Rasputin tauntingly. ”Life is very sweet, you know.”

”But you must not do this!” she shrieked loudly. ”Promise me, Father, that you will not! Promise me--do!”

Rasputin drew his hand roughly from her, for she had seized it as she implored him to show her mercy.

”There may be some extenuating circ.u.mstances in your case--but I doubt it,” he said.

”There are!” she declared. ”I grew to love the man. I was blind, mad, infatuated--but now I hate him! Would that I could kill the man who wrought such disaster in our land! Would that I could kill him with my own hand!”

Rasputin drew a long breath. The wish she expressed had suddenly aroused within his inventive brain a means of executing a sharp and bitter revenge.

”Perhaps one day, ere long, you may be afforded opportunity,” he said in a changed voice. ”If so, I will call you here again and explain what I mean.”

”Ah! Then I may hope for your pity and indulgence, eh?” she cried quickly, but still in deep anxiety.

Yet Rasputin would not commit himself, for he was playing a very deep and intricate game.

When the erring woman had gone the monk filled his gla.s.s with brandy, some of that choice old cognac which the Empress sent him regularly, and turning to me, said:

”Feodor, the man Doukhovski is wealthy, I understand. Protopopoff has been making inquiry, and finds that he is owner of a large estate near Ryazhsk, and that from an uncle quite recently he inherited nearly a million roubles. He only retains his office because he does not regard it as patriotic to retire while the war is in progress. What will he think of his wife's betrayal when he knows of it?”

”But you will not inform him,” I exclaimed.

”Not if Madame is reasonable. She is wealthy in her own right,” replied the monk. ”If women err they must be compelled to pay the price,” he went on in a hard voice. ”Felix Lachkarioff evidently deceived her very cleverly. But there--he is one of the most expert agents that the Koniggratzerstra.s.se possesses, and is so essentially a ladies' man.”

After a pause Rasputin, lighting a cigarette, laughed lightly to himself, and said:

”The report furnished to me yesterday shows that Madame was one of the Plechkoffs of Lublin, and her balance at the Azov Bank is a very considerable one. The price of my silence is the money she has there. And I shall obtain it, Feodor--you will see,” he added with confidence.

So ruthlessly did he treat the unfortunate woman that, by dint of threats to place the original of that statement of Lachkarioff before the Minister Protopopoff, he had before a week had pa.s.sed every rouble she possessed.

I was present on the night when she came to him to make the offer, the negotiations having been opened and carried on by a man named Zouieff, one of the several professional blackmailers whom Rasputin employed from time to time under the guise of ”lawyers.” She was beside herself in terror and despair, and carried with her a cheque-book.