But the prefect saw quickly that Rouletabille was
not fooling and had no mockery in his manner.
“Monsieur,” he insisted, “since
you speak seriously, I certainly wish to understand
-”
“It is useless,” said Rouletabille.
“It is very necessary that you should not understand.”
“But at least...”
“No, no, I can’t tell you anything.”
“When, then, will you tell me something to explain
your unbelievable conduct?”
Rouletabille stopped in his tracks and declared solemnly:
“Monsieur Koupriane, recall what Natacha Feodorovna
as she raised her lovely eyes to heaven, replied to
her father, when he, also, wished to understand:
‘Never.’”
THE POISON CONTINUES
At ten o’clock that morning Rouletabille went
to the Trebassof villa, which had its guard of secret
agents again, a double guard, because Koupriane was
sure the Nihilists would not delay in avenging Michael’s
death. Rouletabille was met by Ermolai, who would
not allow him to enter. The faithful servant
uttered some explanation in Russian, which the young
man did not understand, or, rather, Rouletabille understood
perfectly from his manner that henceforth the door
of the villa was closed to him. In vain he insisted
on seeing the general, Matrena Petrovna and Mademoiselle
Natacha. Ermolai made no reply but “Niet,
niet, niet.” The reporter turned away
without having seen anyone, and walked away deeply
depressed. He went afoot clear into the city,
a long promenade, during which his brain surged with
the darkest forebodings. As he passed by the
Department of Police he resolved to see Koupriane again.
He went in, gave his name, and was ushered at once
to the Chief of Police, whom he found bent over a
long report that he was reading through with noticeable
agitation.
“Gounsovski has sent me this,” he said
in a rough voice, pointing to the report. “Gounsovski,
‘to do me a service,’ desires me to know
that he is fully aware of all that happened at the
Trebassof datcha last night. He warns me that
the revolutionaries have decided to get through with
the general at once, and that two of them have been
given the mission to enter the datcha in any way possible.
They will have bombs upon their bodies and will blow
the bombs and themselves up together as soon as they
are beside the general. Who are the two victims
designated for this horrible vengeance, and who have
light-heartedly accepted such a death for themselves
as well as for the general? That is what we don’t
know. That is what we would have known, perhaps,
if you had not prevented me from seizing the papers
that Prince Galitch has now,” Koupriane finished,
turning hostilely toward Rouletabille.
Rouletabille had turned pale.
“Don’t regret what happened to the papers,”
he said. “It is I who tell you not to.
But what you say doesn’t surprise me.
They must believe that Natacha has betrayed them.”
