. In our Holy Russia many good men and women have, because of
their love for their own land, been sent to drag out their lives in the
dreariness of the Siberian prison camps.

When the monk returned to me he asked for Ostrovski's appointment,
written on the previous night, which I carried in my pocket. This he took
at once to the Tsar. His Majesty was at that moment closeted with the
Prime Minister, Gutchkoff having already seen the Emperor and,
transacting his business, been dismissed.

Five minutes later Rasputin returned with the Emperor's scribbled
signature still wet, and in my presence handed it to the Director of
Political Police. Ostrovski had been transferred to Japan, where he would
be harmless, even though he might have learned facts from Botkine. But
what had Rasputin decided should be the fate of the latter? For the sake
of Alexandra Feodorovna and the whole camarilla Botkine's lips must, I
knew, be closed. That had been decided. I longed to learn what the
Empress had said when the monk had revealed the truth to her and pointed
out her peril.

No doubt Her Majesty would see to it that the affair was hushed up. I
knew full well that she understood that once Kokovtsov obtained evidence
too many people would be implicated, and perhaps a public trial might
result. Both she and Rasputin, no doubt, realised that it would be unwise
to allow a member of the Okhrana--as Botkine had been--to be arrested,
for fear of the scandal public revelations would cause. The capital
teemed with Germans like Stuermer and Fredericks, traitors like
Protopopoff and Soukhomlinoff, men like Azeff, Guerassimoff and
Kurtz--one day the bosom friend of Ministers and powerful noblemen, and
the next cast into the fortress of Peter and Paul--Rogogin, the sycophant
Raeff--whom Rasputin had made Procurator of the Holy Synod--and the
drunken "saint" Mitia the Blessed--at last dismissed--spiritualists,
charlatans, and cranks. Upon such fine society was the Throne of the
Romanoffs based! Was it any wonder that it was already tottering
preparatory to its fall?

I left Peterhof with Rasputin at about three o'clock that afternoon, and
on our return to the Poltavskaya I spoke over the telephone, at the
monk's orders, to Doctor Badmayev, the expert herbalist who prepared
those secret drugs with which Madame Vyrubova regularly doped the little
Tsarevitch, keeping him in a constant state of ill-health and in such a
condition that he puzzled the most