Historical fiction; Peter I, Emperor of Russia, 1672-1725 -- Fiction; Russia -- History -- Sofia Alekseevna, 1682-1689 -- Fiction
She shook her head. “Not a sound,” she replied earnestly; “and it seems
impossible that any one has discovered that staircase. No one has known
of it but the doctor and myself, and the man who built it is dead. He
was a faithful German, and returned to his own country and died there
more than two years ago.”
“Yet it is evident that some one found the stairs,” I retorted a trifle
sharply, for I was sorely tried.
“Not from without,” she protested; “the fastenings were too secure.”
I had noticed this, and it had increased my perplexity. I went now to
the windows and looked out; two of them were on the main street, two
on the lane, but it was impossible for any one to scale that solid
wall and obtain entrance there. I saw that madame’s solution was the
most feasible, but nevertheless promptly rejected it; it was impossible
that these two women should secretly flee from the protection of the
good doctor; at such a time, besides, nothing could result from the
flight but certain disaster. Zénaïde’s quick mind would have rejected
such a plan as wholly impracticable, and mademoiselle was far too
timid to have either proposed or sanctioned it. I was at my wits’ end,
and madame was far too obstinate in her opinion to suggest any other
solution of the problem, although she assisted me readily enough in
making a thorough search of the rooms for any sign or token which
might explain the motive or the cause of the strange disappearance.
Remembering that Ramodanofsky and Viatscheslav were at the palace when
I arrived there, and that I had left them there when I departed, I
questioned madame about the hour at which breakfast had been served
to her guests, and found that they had eaten it while I was at the
Kremlin; therefore their departure had not only been recent, but had
not been accomplished by Ramodanofsky or Naryshkin, in person at least.
This, while it was perplexing, was also reassuring. I should have been
glad of Von Gaden’s presence and counsel; but he had not yet returned,
and I could think of no better assistant than Pierrot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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