“The single candle was still flickering in the draught, and showed only
the white cloth. The rest of the room was draped in shadows. I picked up
the candle, and, lifting it high above my head, moved around the corner
of the table. Either my nerves were on such a stretch that no shock
could strain them further, or my mind was inoculated to horrors, for
I did not cry out at what I saw nor retreat from it. Immediately at my
feet was the body of a beautiful woman, lying at full length upon the
floor, her arms flung out on either side of her, and her white face and
shoulders gleaming, dully, in the unsteady light of the candle. Around
her throat was a great chain of diamonds, and the light played upon
these and made them flash and blaze in tiny flames. But the woman who
wore them was dead, and I was so certain as to how she had died that,
without an instant's hesitation, I dropped on my knees beside her and
placed my hands above her heart. My fingers again touched the thin slit
of a wound. I had no doubt in my mind but that this was the Russian
princess, and when I lowered the candle to her face I was assured that
this was so. Her features showed the finest lines of both the Slav and
the Jewess; the eyes were black, the hair blue-black and wonderfully
heavy, and her skin, even in death, was rich in color. She was a
surpassingly beautiful woman.
“I rose and tried to light another candle with the one I held, but
I found that my hand was so unsteady that I could not keep the wicks
together. It was my intention to again search for this strange dagger
which had been used to kill both the English boy and the beautiful
princess, but before I could light the second candle I heard footsteps
descending the stairs, and the Russian servant appeared in the doorway.
“My face was in darkness, or I am sure that, at the sight of it, he
would have taken alarm, for at that moment I was not sure but that this
man himself was the murderer. His own face was plainly visible to me in
the light from the hall, and I could see that it wore an expression of
dull bewilderment. I stepped quickly toward him and took a firm hold
upon his wrist.
“'She is not there,' he said. 'The Princess has gone. They have all
gone.'
“'Who have gone?' I demanded. 'Who else has been here?'
“'The two Englishmen,' he said.
“'What two Englishmen?' I demanded. 'What are their names?'
“The man now saw by my manner that some question of great moment hung
upon his answer, and he began to protest that he did not know the names
of the visitors and that until that evening he had never seen them.
“I guessed that it was my tone which frightened him, so I took my hand
off his wrist and spoke less eagerly.
“'How long have they been here?' I asked, 'and when did they go?'
“He pointed behind him toward the drawing-room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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