So she turned back.
She rode her horse at a walk, her heart sinking lower and lower as the sounds of battle drew nearer. At the centre the rifle fire had almost died away and there was only the rumbling of cannon,- but from the Lovcha highway, where Sobolev's isolated detachment was fighting, there came constant volleys of shots and the incessant roar of a multitude of voices, only faintly audible at such a distance. General Michel was apparently not having an easy time of it.
Suddenly Varya was startled by the sight of McLaughlin emerging from the bushes on his horse, spattered with mud. His hat had slipped over to one side of his head, his face was red and the sweat was streaming down his forehead.
'What's happening? How's the battle going?' Varya asked, catching the Irishman's horse by the bridle.
'Well, I think,' he replied, wiping his cheeks with a handkerchief. 'Oof, I got stuck in some kind of undergrowth and just barely managed to get out again.'
'Well, you say? Have the redoubts been taken?'
'No, the Turks stood firm in the centre, but twenty minutes ago Count Zurov galloped past our observation point in a great hurry to get to headquarters. All he shouted was: "Victory! We are in Plevna! No time now gentlemen, an urgent dispatch!" Monsieur Kazanzaki set off after him. No doubt that highly ambitious gentleman wishes to be there beside the bearer of good news in case some of the glory rubs off on him.' McLaughlin shook his head disapprovingly. 'And then the gentlemen of the press went dashing off helter-skelter - every one of them has his own man among the telegraphers. Take my word for it, telegrams reporting the capture of Plevna are winging their way to their newspapers at this very moment.'
'Then what are you doing here?'
The correspondent replied with dignity: 'I never rush things, Mademoiselle Suvorova. You have to check all the details thoroughly first. Instead of a bald statement of fact I shall send an entire article, and it will be in time for the same morning edition as their skimpy telegrams.'
'So we can go back to the camp?' Varya asked in relief.
'Yes, I believe so. We'll find out more at the staff building than out here in this savannah. And it will be dark soon too.'
However, at the staff building they didn't really know anything, because no despatches about the capture of Plevna had been received from field headquarters - quite the contrary, in fact: all the major thrusts of the offensive had apparently been repulsed and the losses were absolutely astronomical, at least twenty thousand men. They said that the emperor had completely lost heart and responded to questions about Sobolev's success with a shrug: how could Sobolev take Plevna with his two brigades if sixty battalions in the centre and on the right flank had not even been able to take the first line of redoubts?
It didn't make any sense at all. McLaughlin was triumphant, delighted at his own circumspection, but Varya was furious with Zurov: that braggart and liar had only confused everybody with his arrant nonsense.
Night fell and the dispirited generals returned to staff headquarters. Varya saw Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich enter the little operations section building, surrounded by his adjutants. His equine face was twitching spasmodically between the thick sideburns.
Everyone was talking in whispers about the huge losses - the news was that a quarter of the army had been killed; but out loud they spoke about the heroism displayed by the officers and men. A great deal of heroism had been displayed, especially by the officers.
Shortly after twelve Varya was sought out by Fandorin. He looked dejected.
'Come with me, Varvara Andreevna. The chief wants to see us.'
'Us?' she asked, surprised.
'Yes, the entire staff of the special section; and that includes both of us.'
They walked quickly to the mud-walled hut where Lieutenant-Colonel Kazanzaki's department was located.
The officers and staff of the Special Section of the Western Division were all gathered in the familiar room, but their commanding officer was not among them. However, Lavrenty Arkadievich Mizinov was there, scowling menacingly behind the desk.
'Ah-ah, the titular counsellor and his lady secretary have decided to join us,' he said acidly. 'Wonderful - now we only have to wait for His Worship the lieutenant-colonel to arrive and we can begin. Where's Kazanzaki?' barked the general.
'Nobody has seen Ivan Kharitonovich this evening,' the most senior officer present replied timidly.
'Magnificent. Fine protectors of secrets you all are.' Mizinov jumped up and began walking round the room, stamping his feet loudly. 'This isn't an army, it's a circus, a cabaret show with escape artists! Whenever you want to see someone, they tell you he isn't here. He's disappeared! Without trace!'
'Your Excellency, you are sp-speaking in riddles. What is the m-matter?' Fandorin asked in a low voice.
‘I don't know, Erast Petrovich, I don't know!' exclaimed Mizinov. ‘I was hoping that you and Mister Kazanzaki would tell me that.' He stopped for a moment to get a grip on himself and then continued more calmly: 'Very well. We are not waiting for anyone else. I have just come from the emperor, where I witnessed a most interesting scene: Major-General of His Imperial Majesty's retinue Sobolev the Second shouting at His Imperial Majesty and His Imperial Highness, and the tsar and the commander-in-chief apologising to him.'
'Impossible!' one of the gendarmes gasped.
'Silence!' squealed the general. 'Be quiet and listen! Apparently, some time after three o'clock this afternoon Sobolev's detachment, having taken the Krishin redoubt by a frontal attack, broke through into the southern outskirts of Plevna at the rear of the main force of the Turkish army, but was forced to a halt by a lack of bayonets and artillery. Sobolev despatched several riders with a request to send reinforcements immediately, but they were intercepted by the Bashi-Bazouks. Finally, at six o'clock Adjutant Zurov, accompanied by fifty Cossacks, managed to break through to the central army group positions. The Cossacks went back to Sobolev because he needed every man he could get, and Zurov galloped on to headquarters alone. In Plevna they were expecting reinforcements to arrive at any minute, but they never came; and that is not surprising, because Zurov never reached headquarters and we never learned about the breakthrough on the left flank. That evening the Turks redeployed their forces to bring their full might to bear on Sobolev and shortly before midnight, having lost most of his men, he withdrew to his initial position. But we had Plevna in the bag! A question for all of you here: What could have happened to adjutant Zurov, in broad daylight, in the very centre of our positions? Who can answer me that?'
'Evidently Lieutenant-Colonel Kazanzaki can’ said Varya, and everyone turned to look at her. She related excitedly what she had heard from McLaughlin.
After a prolonged pause the Chief of Gendarmes turned to Fandorin: 'Your conclusions, Erast Petrovich?'
'The battle has been lost; there is no p-point in wailing and beating our chests - emotions merely hinder the effort of investigation,' the titular counsellor replied coolly. 'What we need to do is this: divide up the t-territory between the correspondents' observation point and the field headquarters into squares. That's the first thing. At the first light of d-dawn search every last centimetre of each square. That's the second thing. If the b-bodies of Zurov or Kazanzaki are found, nothing must be touched and the ground around them must not be trampled - that's the third thing. And just to be certain, search for both of them among the seriously wounded in the infirmaries - that's the fourth thing. For the moment, Lavrenty Arkadievich, there is n-nothing more to be done.'
'What do you suggest I should report to His Majesty? Treason?'