Both were condemned to death.  Volkousky was executed first, and the sister was taking her turn when an officer of the government arrived on horseback to stop the firing.  The Tsar, informed of her intended fate, had sent a pardon by telegraph.  After that she disappeared.  She was supposed to have gone on some tour across Europe, as was her habit, for she spoke all the languages, like a true Bohemian.  Now she had reappeared in all her joyous glory at Krestowsky.  It was certain, however, that she had not forgotten her brother.  Gossips said that if the government and the police showed themselves so long-enduring they found it to their interest to do so.  The open, apparent life Annouchka led was less troublesome to them than her hidden activities would be.  The lesser police who surrounded the Chief of the St. Petersburg Secret Service, the famous Gounsovski, had meaning smiles when the matter was discussed.  Among them Annouchka had the ignoble nickname, “Stool-pigeon.”

Rouletabille must have been well aware of all these particulars concerning Annoucbka, for he betrayed no astonishment at the great interest and the strong emotion she aroused.  From the corner where he was he could see only a bit of the stage, and he was standing on tiptoes to see the singer when he felt his coat pulled.  He turned.  It was the jolly advocate, well known for his gastronomic feats, Athanase Georgevitch, along with the jolly Imperial councilor, Ivan Petrovitch, who motioned him to climb down.

“Come with us; we have a box.”

Rouletabille did not need urging, and he was soon installed in the front of a box where he could see the stage and the public both.  Just then the curtain fell on the first part of Annouchka’s performance.  The friends were soon rejoined by Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff, the great timber-merchant, who came from behind the scenes.

“I have been to see the beautiful Onoto,” announced the Lithuanian with a great satisfied laugh.  “Tell me the news.  All the girls are sulking over Annouchka’s success.”

“Who dragged you into the Onoto’s dressing-room then? demanded Athanase.

“Oh, Gounsovski himself, my dear.  He is very amateurish, you know.”

“What! do you knock around with Gounsovski?”

“On my word, I tell you, dear friends, he isn’t a bad acquaintance.  He did me a little service at Bakou last year.  A good acquaintance in these times of public trouble.”

“You are in the oil business now, are you?”

“Oh, yes, a little of everything for a livelihood.  I have a little well down Bakou way, nothing big; and a little house, a very small one for my small business.”

“What a monopolist Thaddeus is,” declared Athanase Georgevitch, hitting him a formidable slap on the thigh with his enormous hand.  “Gounsovski has come himself to keep an eye on Annouchka’s debut, eh?  Only he goes into Onoto’s dressing-room, the rogue.”