'Yes, the situation at present is not propitious for joint operations,' Fandorin admitted, 'but in this p-particular case the disunity of the investigative agencies might just, perhaps, be to our advantage ...' Erast Petrovich puckered up his smooth forehead and his hand seemed to move of its own accord to draw out of his pocket the jade rosary beads that assisted the State Counsellor in focusing his thoughts.
The two old men, Prince Dolgorukoi and Vedishchev, well used to Fandorin's ways, waited with bated breath, their faces set in identical expressions, like little children at the circus who know for certain that the conjuror's top hat is empty and at the same time have no doubt that the sly trickster is about to pull a rabbit or a pigeon out of it.
The State Counsellor pulled out his rabbit. 'Allow me to ask exacdy why the criminal's plan succeeded so brilliandy,' Erast Petrovich began, and then paused as if he were really expecting a reply. 'The answer is very simple: he possessed detailed information concerning matters that very few people should have known about. That is one. The arrangements for the protection of Adjutant General Khrapov on his journey across Moscow province were only determined the day before yesterday, with the involvement of a very limited number of people. That is two. One of them, who knew the plan in its minutest details, betrayed that plan to the revolutionaries - either consciously or unconsciously. That is three. All we have to do is find this individual, and through him we shall find the Combat Group and the killer himself.'
'How do you mean, "unconsciously"?' the Governor General asked with a frown. 'Consciously, now - that's clear enough. Even in the state service there are turncoats. Some sell the nihilists secrets for money, some because the devil prompts them to do it. But when they're unconscious? You mean when they're drunk?'
'More likely out of carelessness,' Fandorin replied. 'The way it usually happens is that some official blurts out a secret to someone close to him who has connections with the terrorists -a son, a daughter, a lover. But that will merely add one more link to the chain.'
'Well then,' said the prince, reaching for his snuff again, 'the day before yesterday at the secret meeting concerning Ivan Fyodorovich's arrival (may the old sinner rest in peace), the only people present, apart from myself and you, were Sverchinsky and Burlyaev. Not even the police were involved - on instructions from Petersburg. So do we have to regard the heads of the Office of Gendarmes and the Department of Security as suspects? That seems rather outlandish. A ... aa ... choo!'
'Bless you,' Vedishchev put in, and began wiping His Excellency's nose again.
'Yes, even them,' Erast Petrovich declared decisively. And in addition, we need to find out who else in the Office and the Department was privy to all the details. I assume that can only be three or four people at most, no more.'
Frol Grigorievich gasped. 'Good Lord, why that's mere child's play to you! Vladimir Andreevich, for goodness' sake don't go into mourning yet. If this is the end of your career, then you'll leave the service with full honours, in style. They'll see you off waving and cheering, not with a boot up the backside! Erast Petrovich will have this Judas sorted out for us in a jiffy. "That is one, that is two, that is three," he'll say - and all done and dusted!'
'It's not as simple as that,' said the State Counsellor, with a shake of his head. 'Yes, the Office of Gendarmes is the first place where there could have been a leak. And the Department of Security is the second. But unfortunately there is a third possibility, which I shall not be able to investigate. The plan that we agreed for the protection of Khrapov was sent to St Petersburg for confirmation by coded telegram. It included information about me, as the person responsible for our visitor's safety -with an abstract of my service record, a verbal description, intelligence profile and so forth; in short, everything that is normally required in such cases. Seidlitz had no doubts about the false Fandorin, because the impersonator had been informed in minute detail about my appearance and even my st-stammer ... If the source of the leak is in St Petersburg, it is unlikely that I shall be able to do anything. My writ doesn't run there, as they say ... But even so the chances are two out of three that the trail begins in Moscow. And the killer is most likely hiding somewhere here. We have to look for him.'
From the Governor General's house the State Counsellor went directly to the Office of Gendarmes on Malaya Nikitskaya Street. As he rode in the prince's blue-velvet-upholstered carriage, he wondered what approach he ought to take with Colonel Sverchinsky. Of course, the hypothesis that Sverchinsky, a longstanding confidant of the prince and Vedishchev, could be involved with revolutionaries required a certain liveliness of the imagination, but the good Lord had endowed the State
Counsellor plentifully with that particular quality, and in the course of a life rich in adventures he had come across surprises more bizarre than that.
And so, what could be said about Colonel Stanislav Sverchinsky of the Special Corps of Gendarmes?
He was secretive, cunning and ambitious, but at the same time very cautious - he preferred to stay in the background. A meticulous career man. He knew how to bide his time and wait for his chance, and this time it seemed to have come: as yet he was only acting head of the Office of Gendarmes, but in all likelihood he would be confirmed in that post, and then the most mouth-watering career prospects would be open to him. Of course, it was well known in both Moscow and St Petersburg that Sverchinsky was Prince Dolgorukoi's man. If Vladimir Andreevich were to leave the old capital city for the sunny scrap heap of Nice, the colonel might never be confirmed in his coveted appointment. And so, as far as Stanislav Filippovich Sverchinsky's career prospects were concerned, the death of General Khrapov was a distressing, perhaps even fatal, event. At least, that was how matters appeared at first glance.
The journey from Tverskaya Street to Malaya Nikitskaya Street was no distance at all and were it not for the cold wind driving the slanting snow, Fandorin would have preferred to go on foot: walking was better for thinking. Here was the turn off the boulevard already. The carriage drove past the cast-iron railings of the mansion of Baron Evert-Kolokoltsev, where Fandorin lived in the outhouse, and two hundred paces further on the familiar yellowish-white building with a striped sentry box at the entrance emerged from the white shroud of the blizzard.
Fandorin climbed out, held down the top hat that was straining to take flight, and ran up the slippery steps. In the vestibule a familiar sergeant saluted the State Counsellor smartly and reported without waiting to be asked: 'In his office. He's expecting you. Your coat and hat, if you please, Your Honour. I'll take them to the cloakroom.'
Erast Petrovich thanked him absent-mindedly and looked round the familiar interior as if he were seeing it for the first time.
A corridor with a row of identical oilcloth-upholstered doors, drab pale-blue walls with perfunctory white skirting, and - at the far end - the gymnastics hall. Could state treason really be lurking here, within these walls?