He didn’t know that he was slated to keep another sort of appointment -- a fatal one -- unless I could prevent it. I didn’t tell him. There was no point. Besides, by getting rid of Purichkevich, I hoped I’d taken the first step in canceling that appointment altogether.
But it was only a first step, and that could be along way from avoiding fate. Just how long a way I began to appreciate a few moments later when a tall man in a military uniform, splattered with a meaningless fruit salad of medals and ribbons, stopped by our table. He and Rasputin exchanged some words in Russian and then Rasputin introduced him to me in German.
“The Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich, just back from a tour of the front with the Czar,” Rasputin identified him.
It was a jolt. Like Purichkevich, the Grand Duke was one of the trio of potential assassins arranging Rasputin’s demise. Small world! -—Particularly when murder’s in the wind!
Dmitri joined us. He said he was going on to a small, intimate party later in the evening and invited both of us to accompany him. Sure, I thought to myself, drop by for a cup of arsenic and a nosh of hot lead! I was relieved when Rasputin told him he had other plans and wouldn’t be able to make it.
But the Grand Duke was purposely dense. In an imperious and pushy manner, he said he’d cancel his own party because Rasputin’s plans sounded like more fun. He invited himself to come along and I could see that Rasputin was taken too much by surprise at Dmitri’s gaucherie to decline to take him. He was one of the last three people in the world I wanted along this night, but if Rasputin couldn’t shake him, how could I?
An unexpected opportunity presented itself and provided the solution. Dmitri excused himself to go to the john. Feeling the call myself, I followed him. He took one booth, and I took the adjoining one. We were the only ones in the lavatory.
There was a thud as he lowered the seat. A second later I could see his spindly calves through the space at the bottom of the partition separating the two stalls. The trousers of his uniform were bunched up around his ankles.
It was a zany chance, but I took it. I got down on my hands and knees and reached stealthily under the partition. Silently, I got a good grip on his pants with both hands and yanked hard. There was a crash as I pulled him from his perch. But I came up with the pants and darted from the bathroom before he could recover himself.
Outside I dropped the pants behind a potted palm. Then I rejoined Rasputin. “The Grand Duke changed his mind,” I told him. “He decided not to come with us.”
“That’s a relief,” Rasputin answered. “I was wondering how to get rid of him.”
“Well, it’s all taken care of. But I’d suggest we get out of here before he changes his mind.”
“Right you are.” Rasputin headed for the exit and I followed him.
His coach was waiting outside. We got in and Rasputin told the driver the address the girl had given him. Fifteen minutes later the carriage pulled to a halt and we got out.
It was a very dark street -- more of an alley, really. The wall running along it served to fence in a rather elaborate mansion. The way the girl had set it up, Rasputin was to go through a back-alley gate in the wall and then enter the house by way of a cellar door which she would leave open for him. She was to meet him in a cellar apartment and that’s where the assignation was to take place.
I accompanied him inside the cellar. A light shone from behind a curtained doorway at the far end of the basement. From behind the curtain, the girl’s voice called out to Rasputin. He suggested delicately that it might be best if I waited for him on the dark side of the curtain. Reluctantly, I agreed.
Standing there alone in the dark, I became increasingly fidgety. This was no time to be separated from Rasputin. The hour appointed for his murder was coming too close. If I was going to save him, it was going to have to be soon.
Why the hell didn’t Putnam call? Where the devil was that damn time machine? What the blazes could I do except stand and wait?
I could watch. That was all I could do. I could keep an eye on Rasputin. I walked over to the curtain and crouched down in a corner off to one side of it. From here I could see through the space where the curtain didn’t quite meet the wall. I had a pretty complete view of what was going on inside.
For basement digs, it was lavishly furnished. Red velvet draperies and plush upholstery predominated. Richly colored oil paintings hung on the mahogany-paneled walls. A thick fur rug was arranged in front of a roaring blaze in the fireplace.
The girl was curled up on the rug. Rasputin perched beside her. His hand was under her long gown and she slapped it coyly as it traveled up her thigh. She cooed something in Russian. I translated it as telling him not to go so fast with the wooing.
They kissed. His hands wandered over her body. She allowed him great liberty, but each time he tried to bare her breast, or move too high up her thighs, she stopped him. Sure that he would succeed in the end, Rasputin seemed to enjoy the teasing dalliance without resenting the delay.
Suddenly I heard voices coming from the outside entrance behind me. A moment later two men entered the cellar. One of them carried a candle. By its flame I identified them as Purichkevich and Dmitri, two of the three would-be assassins.
This was it! This was when the gritty hit the nitty! Why the hell didn’t Putnam call?
The two men went through a door off to one side of the cellar. Cautiously, I followed them. I found myself in a large kitchen. I hid behind a big icebox and watched the pair.
There was one servant in the kitchen. He had been preparing a tray with two glasses filled with wine and a plate of little cakes. Now, as I watched, the Grand Duke Dmitri engaged the servant in conversation, leading him away from the counter where the tray was set out. As Dmitri distracted the servant, Purichkevich moved over to the tray. He took a vial out of his pocket and poured some liquid into one of the wine glasses. Then he smeared some of the cake frosting on the rim of the other glass. Obviously the first glass had been poisoned and the second one marked to identify it as unpoisoned. This done, Purichkevich drew a small envelope from his pocket and sprinkled the contents liberally over the cakes. I guessed the white powder was arsenic.
Dmitri saw that Purichkevich had done his dirty work and wrapped up his conversation with the servant. The murderous pair went out the way they’d come in, passing so close to my hiding place that I could have reached out and touched them. After they’d left, the servant went to the other end of the kitchen and sat down in front of the oven there, his back to the counter where the tray stood.
That was my chance. I zipped over to the tray, emptied the poisoned wine glass into the sink and refilled it. Then I ditched the poisoned cakes in the garbage pail and replaced them with others laid out on a nearby baking pan. I returned to my hiding place behind the icebox feeling smug about having foiled the first effort to knock off Rasputin.
A bell rang. The servant got up, crossed to the tray, picked it up and went out by a door which I guessed led into the room where the lady was entertaining Rasputin. A moment later he returned without the tray.
Time passed. The murderous pair reentered the kitchen. They were whispering to each other agitatedly. I gathered that they were bewildered at the lack of effect the poison had had on Rasputin. They stopped whispering as they approached the servant. They repeated the same ploy they’d used before, Dmitri diverting the servant While Purichkevich once again poisoned the wine and cakes.
After they left I once again replaced the poisoned wine and cakes with unpoisoned wine and cakes. More time passed. Again the pair reentered, even more agitated than before. A third time the poisoning scene was repeated. A third time I switched the wine and cakes. A third time I returned to my hiding place behind the icebox and wondered what the hell was delaying Putnam’s call and the arrival of the time machine.