"One man — a Russian — an official of police, I think."
"If he receives any one else, let me know," I said. "And I want you to give Mademoiselle a letter from me in secret."
"Bien, m'sieur."
I turned to the little writing-table and scribbled a few hasty lines to my love, announcing my presence, and asking her to grant me an interview in secret as soon as Woodroffe was absent. I also warned her of the search for her instigated by the Baron, and urged her to send me a line in reply. The note was delivered into her hand, but although I waited in suspense nearly all day she sent no reply. While Woodroffe was in the hotel I dared not show myself lest he should recognize me, therefore I was compelled to sham indisposition and to eat my meals alone in my room.
Both the means by which she had met Martin Woodroffe and the motive were equally an enigma. By that letter she had written to her schoolfellow it was apparent that she had some secret of his, for had she not wished to send him a message of reassurance that she had divulged nothing. This would seem that they wore close friends; yet, on the other hand, something seemed to tell me that he was acting falsely, and was really an ally of the Baron's.
Why had he brought her to Petersburg? If he had desired to rescue her he would have taken her in the opposite direction — to Stockholm, where she would be free — whereas he took her, an escaped
