She then related in brief what had happened at the Ekaterinburg house in July 1918, and the fact that Tatiana had not been present during the murders. Perhaps Olga knew of Tatiana’s whereabouts? If so, she begged that she would let her know. She wrote that she suspected she was the only one who had escaped alive from the basement, and so was curious to learn of the existence of a woman in Berlin who claimed to be Anastasia. I would love to know your true opinion of this woman. If she is my sister, I must find a way to be reunited with her, and I hoped we might avail ourselves of your hospitality for a time. Sadly, I would not be able to invite her to Leningrad, where my husband and I live the lives of factory workers under assumed names.

Peter read the letter when she had finished, stumbling over some of the words. His reading had never become fluent. “Were this to fall into the hands of anyone but Matthias, we would be sent to a gulag, but I am sure I can trust him. I’ll take it to him tomorrow,” he promised.

There was a delay of several weeks before a reply came. Matthias slid the letter between some shipping documents and gave Peter a nod and a pat on the back as he handed them over. A secret policeman hovered unsuspecting as Peter transferred it to an inside pocket of his coat.

Maria recognized Olga’s hand on the envelope and tore it open in haste, excited beyond measure to hear from the first family member she had managed to contact since 1918. Her face fell as she read the opening words: You would not believe how many impostors have contacted me in the last decade to say they are Romanovs. I believe I have heard from three Anastasias, two Alexeis, an Olga, and at least one other apart from you who claims to be Maria. Tatiana is the only sister who does not have an impersonator, or at least I have not yet received any communication from such.

Maria sat down and read on. I’m sure you understand how difficult this is for me. My visit to Berlin to meet Anna Tschaikovsky—the one who claims to be Anastasia—was particularly upsetting as the woman is clearly mentally deranged. I suspect she is being manipulated by others for financial gain, but trust me when I tell you she is decidedly not my beloved niece and goddaughter.

The letter ended: Forgive me if I seem harsh but I hope you will understand that I cannot invite you to stay in my home without first ascertaining your identity. Should you happen to visit Copenhagen, let me know and I will meet you and make up my own mind.