"Botkine is a confidential agent in Kokovtsov's employ," was the Director's reply. "He was, I find, assistant-director of police in Nijni before the Minister was appointed, and is now in His Excellency's private service." "Well, it is excellent that by your astuteness, my dear General, we are forewarned. If not, there might very easily have resulted a serious contretemps--eh?" "Exactly." "And who is this Mademoiselle Pauline?" asked Rasputin, his clever criminal brain already at work to defeat a revelation of the truth. "Pauline Lahure, the little French dancer at the Villa Rode." "Lahure!" cried Rasputin. "I know her, of course, a music-hall artiste. She has been lately taken up by the old Countess Bronevski. She was at my house only a fortnight ago, and wanted to become a 'sister'!" "As spy of Kokovtsov--eh?" "Without a doubt," I chimed in. "From all I hear His Excellency is a gay dog." "True, my dear Feodor," remarked the monk, fingering the cross nervously, and then taking a cigarette which the general offered him. "But had not our friend Rogogin been on the alert and opened the dainty dancer's letters, what a trap we should have fallen into--not only ourselves, but the Empress also! Vladimir would have presented the documents to the Emperor, and an unholy domestic scene would have resulted. This fellow Botkine must never reach Russia!" he added seriously. "I agree," replied the general. "Let us see Gutchkoff at once," he added. General Gutchkoff was a Jew and the director of the dreaded political police, with whom Rogogin, of course, worked hand-in-glove. It was then nearly eleven o'clock at night, but we all three drove to General Gutchkoff's house in the Spaskaya. He was out, his man informed us. "I must see him at once," said the monk loftily. "Where is he?" "He went out to dinner, Holy Father, and he is probably now at the Krestovsky or at the Bouffes." "Go at once and find him," said the monk. "It is a matter of extreme urgency, and we will await him here." Thus ordered by Gregory Rasputin--who was all-powerful in the capital--the general's servant ushered us into a cosy little salon, placed a box of cigarettes and some liqueurs before us, and then himself left in a droshky to find his master, who was so well known in Petrograd as a _bon viveur_. For half an hour Rasputin, much worried by the secret inquiries of the Premier into the doings of the pro-German camarilla, chatted with the general, more than once expressing fear regarding the perilous situation. "Revelations seem imminent," he exclaimed anxiously. "The man Botkine must never arrive in Russia--you understand that, Rogogin!" "I quite agree," said the Director of the Black Cabinet. "But Gutchkoff must see to it. I have done my part in the affair." "You have done excellently, my dear friend--most excellently," declared the monk. "Nothing could have been better. I will mention your great services to the Empress. Yes, we must rely upon Gutchkoff."