The State Counsellor

The departmental adjutant on duty in the reception room was Lieutenant Smolyaninov, a ruddy-faced young man with lively black eyes and a dashingly curled moustache.

'Good health to you, Erast Petrovich,' he said, greeting the habitual visitor. 'Terrible weather, eh?'

'Yes, yes,' said the State Counsellor, nodding. 'May I go in?' And he walked straight into the office without any further ado, as an old colleague and, perhaps - in the near future - an immediate superior.

'Well, what news of happenings in higher places?' asked Sverchinsky, rising to greet him. 'What does Vladimir Andreevich say? What are we to do, what measures are we to take? I confess I'm at a loss.' He lowered his voice to a terrible whisper and asked: 'What do you think - will they dismiss him?'

'To some extent that will depend on the two of us.'

Fandorin lowered himself into an armchair, the Colonel sat down facing him, and the conversation immediately turned to business.

'Stanislav Filippovich, I shall be frank with you. We have a t-traitor among us, either here, in the Office of Gendarmes, or in the Department of Security'

'A traitor?' The Colonel shook his head violently, inflicting serious damage on the ideal parting that divided his smoothly slicked hairstyle into two symmetrical halves. 'Here?'

'Yes, a traitor or a blabbermouth, which in the given case is the same thing.' The State Counsellor expounded his reasoning to the Colonel.

Sverchinsky listened, twirling the ends of his moustache in agitation. Having heard Fandorin out, he set his hand on his heart and said with feeling: 'I entirely agree with you! Your reasoning is absolutely just and convincing. But I ask you please to exempt my office from suspicion. Our assignment in the matter of General Khrapov's arrival was extremely simple - to provide a uniformed escort. I didn't even take any special measures, simply ordered a mounted half-platoon to be made ready, and that was all. And I assure you, my esteemed Erast Petrovich, that in the entire Office only two men were aware of all the details: myself and Lieutenant Smolyaninov. I had to explain everything to him, as the adjutant. But you know him yourself; he's a responsible young man, bright and very high-minded, not the kind to fall down on the job. And I dare to hope that I am known to you as a man not given to gossiping.'

Erast Petrovich inclined his head diplomatically: 'That is precisely why I came to you in the first instance and am keeping nothing back from you.'

'I assure you, it must be the Petersburg crew or those types from Gnezdikovsky!' the Colonel said, opening his handsome, velvety eyes wide - by 'those types from Gnezdikovsky' he meant the Department of Security, located on Bolshoi Gnezdikovsky Lane. 'I can't say anything about Petersburg, I'm not in possession of adequate information; but Lieutenant Colonel Burlyaev has plenty of riff-raff among his helpers - former nihilists and all sorts of shady characters. That's the place you need to sound out. Of course, I wouldn't dream of accusing Pyotr Ivanovich himself, God forbid, but his agents were responsible for the secret security arrangements, so there must have been some kind of briefing and an explanation - to a pretty large group of highly dubious individuals. Very imprudent. And another thing...' Sverchinsky hesitated, as if unsure whether or not to continue.

'What?' asked Fandorin, looking him straight in the eye. 'Is there some other possible explanation that I have overlooked? Tell me, Stanislav Filippovich, tell me. We are speaking frankly here.'

'Well, there are also the secret agents, whom we refer to in our department as "collaborators" - that is, the members of revolutionary groups who collaborate with the police.'

'Agents provocateurs?' the State Counsellor enquired with a frown.

'No, not necessarily provocateurs. Sometimes simply informants. Our work would be quite impossible without them.'

'How could your spies know the detailed arrangements for the reception of a secret visitor, right down to the description of my appearance?' asked Erast Petrovich, knitting the black arrowheads of his eyebrows in a frown. 'I can't see why they should.'

The Colonel was clearly in some difficulty. He blushed slightly, twisted one side of his moustache into an even tighter curl and lowered his voice confidentially.

'There are different kinds of agents. And the way the authorised officers handle them varies too. Sometimes it's a matter of entirely private ... mmm... I would even say, intimate, contact. Well, you understand.'

'No,' said Fandorin with a shudder, looking at the other man in some fright. 'I do not understand and I do not wish to. Do you mean to tell me that for the good of the cause employees of the Office of Gendarmes and the Department of Security enter into sodomitical relations with their agents?'

Ah, why necessarily sodomitical!' Sverchinsky exclaimed, throwing his hands up. 'The collaborators include quite a large number of women, as a general rule quite young and good-looking. And you know what a free attitude our modern revolutionary youth and their associates have towards matters of sex.'

'Yes, yes,’ said the State Counsellor in a rather embarrassed tone. 'I have heard about it. I really do not have a very clear idea of the activities of the secret police. And I have not previously had any dealings with revolutionaries - mostly murderers, swindlers and foreign spies. However, Stanislav Filippovich, you are clearly pointing me in the direction of one of the Department's officers. Who is it? Which of them, in your view, has suspicious connections?'

The Colonel maintained his expression of moral torment for about half a minute and then, as if he had come to a difficult decision, he whispered: 'Erast Petrovich, my dear fellow, to some extent, of course, this is private business, but knowing you as I do to be a highly scrupulous and broadminded individual, I feel that I have no right to conceal the facts, especially since this is a matter of exceptional importance, in the face of which all personal considerations pale into insignificance, no matter—' At this point, having lost the thread of his tangled grammar, Sverchinsky broke off and began speaking more simply. 'I am in possession of information indicating that Lieutenant Colonel Burlyaev maintains an acquaintance with a certain Diana - of course, that is her agent's alias - a very mysterious individual who collaborates with the authorities without reward, out of ideological considerations, and therefore sets her own terms. For instance, we do not know her real name or where she lives -only the address of the secret apartment that the Department rents for her. From what we know, she is a young woman, or married lady, from a very good family. She has extremely wide and extremely useful contacts among the revolutionary circles of Moscow and St Petersburg, and she renders the police truly invaluable service ...'

'Is she Burlyaev's mistress, and could he have revealed secrets to her?' the State Counsellor asked impatiendy, interrupting Sverchinksy. 'Is that what you are hinting at?'

Stanislav Filippovich unbuttoned his stiff collar and moved . closer. 'I... I am not certain that she is his mistress, but I think it possible. Very possible, in fact. And if she is, Burlyaev could easily have told her things that he shouldn't have. You understand, double agents, especially of this complexion, are not very predictable. Today they collaborate with us, tomorrow they reverse direction and..."

'Very well, I'll bear it in mind.'

Erast Petrovich began thinking about something and suddenly changed the subject: 'I assume Frol Grigorievich has telephoned and asked you to offer me every possible assistance.'

Sverchinsky pressed his hands to his chest, as if to say: Everything that I can possibly do.

'Then I tell you what. For this investigation I shall require a smart assistant who can also act as my liaison officer. Will you lend me your Smolyaninov?'