Part 17 (1/2)

The Prince went to the telephone and asked for the monk at his house.

The reply was that the Father had gone out to dine somewhere early in the evening.

Would he come? Would he walk into the trap so cunningly baited for him?

The moments seemed hours as the little a.s.sembly sat waiting and discussing whether any one could have given him warning, for it was known that the ”miracle-worker” had, through his catspaw Protopopoff, spies set everywhere.

At twenty minutes past eleven a car was heard at the back-door in the Offitzerskaya, and his host, rus.h.i.+ng down, admitted him mysteriously.

The monk removed his big sable-lined coat, disclosing his black clerical garb and big bejewelled cross suspended around his neck. Then he removed his galoshes, for it was snowing hard outside.

”You need not be afraid, Father,” said his host. ”We are alone, except for my friend Stepanoff. He is one of us,” he laughed merrily.

Then he conducted the ”Saint” into the large handsome dining-room, where a tall, fair-bearded man, Paul Stepanoff, came forward to meet him.

Upon the table were two bottles of wine. Into one cyanide of pota.s.sium had been introduced, and its potency had an hour before been tried upon a dog, which at the moment was lying dead in the yard outside.

After Stepanoff had been introduced, the Prince said in a confidential tone:

”The lady I mentioned has not yet arrived. I shall go to the door to await her so that the servants are not disturbed.”

Thus the Father was left with his merry, easy-going fellow-guest, who at a glance he saw was a _bon viveur_ like himself.

The two men began to talk of spiritualism, in which Stepanoff declared himself to be much interested, and a few minutes later he poured out some wine, filling the Father's gla.s.s from the poisoned bottle while he attracted his attention to a picture at the end of the room.

They raised their gla.s.ses, and drank. Some dry biscuits were in a silver box, and after Rasputin had drained his gla.s.s, he took a biscuit and munched it.

But to Stepanoff's amazement the poison took no effect! Was the monk after all under some divine or mysterious protection? Stepanoff was expecting him to be seized by paroxysms of agony every moment.

On the contrary, he was still calm and expectant regarding the mysterious lady whom he was to meet.

Suddenly, however, Rasputin, slightly paler than usual, exclaimed: ”Curious! I do not feel very well!”

And he crossed the room to examine an ancient crucifix, beautifully jewelled, which was standing upon a side table.

Stepanoff rose and followed him, remarking on the beauty of the sacred emblem, yet aghast that the ”Saint” could take such a dose of poison and yet remain unharmed.

Prince Youssoupoff with the others, was standing silent in the upstairs room eagerly awaiting Stepanoff's announcement that the traitor was no more. Those moments were breathless ones. What, they wondered, was happening below! They listened, and could hear the voices of the pair below still in conversation.

”Ah! That spasm has pa.s.sed!” Rasputin was heard to declare.

Pa.s.sed! Was he immune from the effects of that most deadly poison?

They looked at each other astounded. The fact was that he had only sipped the wine, and having had sufficient already to drink he had contrived to empty his gla.s.s into a dark porcelain flower-bowl.

The monk had taken the big crucifix in his hand to examine it the more closely, when Stepanoff, seeing that Rasputin was still unharmed suddenly drew a big Browning pistol, and, placing it under the monk's arm and against his breast, fired.

The others above, hearing the shot, rushed out upon the wide balcony, while Stepanoff dashed up the stairs to meet them, crying:

”The Saint is dead at last! Russia is freed of the scoundrel!”

The others shouted joy, and re-entering the room, toasted the liberation and regeneration of Russia. Suddenly, they heard a noise and went out upon the balcony again, when, to their horror, they saw the door of the dining-room opened, and Rasputin, haggard and blood-stained, staggering forth, with an imprecation upon his lips, to the door opening to the street, in an effort to escape!