The Emperors Candlesticks | Page 5

Baroness Emmuska Orczy
the brilliant lighted Ring appear to have any attraction
for them, for presently they turned into a side street, uninviting and
dark though it seemed; and being free to walk more rapidly, soon left
the sounds of merry laughter and revelry far behind them.
Still they walked on in silence, not heeding now the few muffled masks
that passed them with a laugh and jest, on their way towards the gayer
part of the city.
With these few exceptions the streets they now crossed were
completely deserted; no illuminations from the windows proclaimed
the reign of King Carnival, no sound of dreamy waltz music lent a
touch of merriment to the dismal, stone-paved courtyards that yawned
drearily on either side.
Into one of these the three dominoes presently turned, and, with out
waiting to reply to the concierges' challenge as to whom they were
seeking at so late an hour, they found their way to the back stone
staircase, which was but dimly lighted by a hanging lamp, that
flickered in the draught, and threw weird shadows on the steps. Having
reached the second flight, one of the dominoes gave a peculiar
rhythmic knock on one of the doors facing him, which after a few
moments was thrown open, while an anxious voice asked -
"Is that you, Baloukine?"
"Yes," replied the domino, "with Ivàn and Serge; let us in."
The room which they had now entered, furnished with an attempt at
comfort, half as an office, and half as a smoking lounge, was filled with
some twelve or fourteen men, of all ages, and apparently, judging from
their clothes, of very mixed social positions; while four or five of them,
collarless, and probably shirtless, wore working jackets and clumsy
boots; some wore beautifully cut dress-clothes and spotless linen, with
a flower in the button-hole, and one elderly man, with a pointed grey
beard, and handsome, aristocratic features, wore two or three
decorations fastened to his coat. All, however, whether peer or peasant,
seemed on the best of terms together, and smoking pipes and cigarettes

of peace and fraternity.
"What news?" asked half a dozen voices, as the new arrivals divested
themselves of their grey dominoes, and shook hands with those sitting
around.
"The best."
"Where is he?" asked a voice.
"In Mirkovitch's fiaker with Maria Stefanowna."
"And presently?"
"Mirkovitch's guest at No 21, Heumarkt."
The questions and answers followed each other in rapid succession; the
tension of suspense had evidently been great, the relief at the news
most obviously welcome, for a sigh of satisfaction seemed to rise in
unison from a dozen heaving, oppressed chests.
"And Mirkovitch?" asked one of the older men.
"He will be here anon."
"As soon as he is safe under lock and key."
"Then he is in our power?"
"Absolutely."
"Did Lavrovski attempt to follow him?
"Not till it was too late, and the fiaker out of sight. He fell into the trap,
without a shadow of suspicion."
There was a pause now; evidently much had to be thought of and
serious points considered, for during the next ten minutes not a sound
disturbed the stillness of the room, save the crackling of burning logs in

the wide chimney, and one or two whispered questions and rapidly
given answers.
Then a heavy tread was heard in the passage outside, the same
rhythmical knock on the door, while a gruff voice said-
"Mirkovitch."
A herculean man, some six foot three in height, with long grey hair
thrown back from a massive forehead, and piecing grey eyes,
half-hidden under a pair of bushy eyebrows, now joined the group of
smokers, greeting them all but with two words-
"All safe."
"Prisoner?"
"Safely in my house; no windows, only a skylight. No chance of
discovery, and less of escape."
"And Maria Stefenowna?"
"Did her part splendidly; he suspected nothing till he heard the door
locked behind him."
"Did he speak?"
"Only to call himself a fool, which remark was obvious."
"He asked no questions?"
"None."
"The deaf-mute valet was there to receive him?"
"Yes, and waited on him, while he took some of the supper we has
prepared for him."
"What about Lavrovski?" asked a voice from the further end of the

room.
"He went back to his box, and is waiting there now, I should imagine."
"In the meanwhile, Mirkovitch, you have promised us the best
treatment for our prisoner."
"Yes," said Mirkovitch grimly. "I hate him, but I will treat him well.
The deaf-mute is a skilled valet, the rooms are comfortable, the bad is
luxurious, the food will be choice and plentiful. Very different," he
added sullenly, "from what Denajewski and the others are enduring at
this moment."
"They are practically free now," said a young voice enthusiastically;
"we can demand their liberty; let them refuse it,
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