As soon as Paula Tueski left me I went round to Olga to endeavour to solve the riddle of the woman's discovery. Olga was out and would not return for an hour. Leaving word that I wished to see her particularly and that she was to wait for me, I went for a walk to try and order my thoughts.
Finding myself near the Princess Weletsky's house, and knowing that I had to keep up the semblance of attentions there, I called. She received me with marks of the most warm regard and welcome.
"I have heard much of what happened at that wretched Devinsky's house. Old Fedor who went with you told me much and my brother much also; but I would rather hear all from you. Where is Olga? You were wounded, I hear. What was it? Tell me—tell me. I have been dying with anxiety for you."
I told her shortly what had happened; and then it occurred to me to try and get her help in regard to Olga. I drew a fancy picture of Olga's shattered nerves; that Moscow had become a place of terror to her; and that even Russia itself was distasteful to her for a time on Devinsky's account.
"Do you think that a man like Devinsky would dare to lay so much as a finger on one of our family?" she asked, checkmating me quietly with a single pronoun.
"It's not what Devinsky dares, but what Olga fears."
"She did not strike me as a girl of nervous fears."
"No; she does not shew it even to me."
"Then we can do better than drive the poor child away from home—punish Devinsky. Tell her that he is already under arrest."
"Is that so, indeed?" I asked, in some astonishment.
"Certainly; his murderous attack on you when you were on the Emperor's special duty is a crime that will cost him dear. Those who play us false, Lieutenant Petrovitch, must beware of us. But our friends find the ways made easy for them. Did not my brother tell you that Olga was to be protected as one of us, and therefore avenged, if wronged?"
"She will be glad to feel safe," I replied quietly. I knew what she meant; and with a look that seemed to imply much, I added:—"I am glad to be one of your friends." I was getting such an adept in the suggestion of a lie, that much more practice would make it difficult for me to tell the plain truth.
My companion flushed with pleasure.
"I always felt I should not count on you in vain," she said.
"No woman has ever done that, I trust," was my answer. "No woman ever could for whom I felt as I feel for you." And with that, and a little more to the same effect, I left her.
I went round to Olga's at once. It was a blessing that with her there need be no secret meanings and insinuations.
She received me, of course, with a smile.
"Is this a pretence to see me, or really something?" she asked with a laugh.
"I think it is really something or I should not have dared to be back so quickly. Even brothers may be bores."
Her answer was a pretty one, such as might be expected from a lover, but I need not repeat it.
"First, I will tell you the news," I said, after a pause; and I told her about the arrest of Devinsky.
"These people strike swiftly and secretly, Alexis," she said, thoughtfully. "They frighten me. Their power is almost limitless. How hard they will hit and how far the blow will reach, if they ever find we are fooling them!" She sighed.
"The frontier is their limit: and we must pass it."
"I have been out to-day to make the preparations for flight. I suppose I must go?"—she smiled a sad little note of interrogation at me—"and if so, the sooner the better. I have a disguise, and shall start to-night. My difficulty will be of course at the frontier. I am going to stop short of that by one station, and then as a peasant girl try to get over on foot. It will take a little longer: but it is the only chance."
"No, I have good news for you so far as that is concerned. Madame Tueski will get you a permit in some name or other and then you can cross in the train. Far better."
"You have seen her then to-day?" A shadow of her old feelings crossed Olga's face as she asked this.
"Yes, I have seen her, and she is eager now that you shall get out of the country."
She was very quickwitted and read my meaning instantly from my words and tone.
"Tell me everything. There is more bad news yet to be told. Has she guessed? ... Ah, I always feared that woman."
"Tell me, Olga, ought I to have any special mark on either of my arms. Any birth-mark, or anything of that sort?"
She went white instantly.
"I had forgotten. That wretched woman's initials were tattooed in small letters just there"—she put her finger on the place—"I saw it once and Alexis was wild with me. Has she seen your arm bare?"
"My wound," I said, in explanation.
"Oh dear, through me again; through me again," cried the girl in distress. I took her in my arms to soothe her, and tried to make her understand that after all it was really a good thing that had happened and not a bad one, inasmuch as the woman's jealousy was urging her to help in getting Olga away. I told her everything frankly.
But this was not all a clear course, as may be imagined. Olga loved me very dearly and trusted me, I believe, as implicitly as any woman could trust the man she loved. But she was a woman and not a goddess: and she could not bring herself to like the necessity which took her out of the country and left me behind in the clutches of such a woman as Paula Tueski. She was a very reasonable little soul, however, as well as a brave one; and before I left her I had talked her into a condition of compulsory resignation.
I did not attempt to disguise from myself, though I did from Olga, the fact that her flight after my conversation with the Princess would certainly tend to bring suspicion upon me, if it should be discovered. Any secret step at such a juncture would do that. I thought I had better see the Prince himself, therefore, lest my neglect to do so should rouse his suspicions prematurely.
I went to him from Olga's house, and when I was admitted, after a little delay which I did not quite like, I found him as gracious as ever.
"I am very busy," he said, shaking hands with me; "but have time to hear that you have resolved to join us, Lieutenant."
"I have come now only to thank you...."
"I haven't time to listen to that. Your sister is again in Moscow; her persecutor is in the care of my men; you have only to say a word for her to be his judge. Do you say it?"
Seeing me hesitate, he paused only a moment.
"When a man like you doesn't say Yes, directly, he means, No. I understand. But—time is beginning to press with much force. Make up your mind; and don't come again till you have decided. Understand what that means. I can't see you again until you are ready to say Yes or No, finally—finally. Then come, and if you decide no, make it convenient before you come, to arrange any little matters that can best be put right personally. You may find obstacles afterwards. You understand?" and the look which accompanied the words shewed me that he meant all this as a pretty strong turn of the screw. "Oh, and by the by," he added, just as I was leaving the room—"of course you won't attempt to get away. You may if you like, you know, but you'll be wiser not to; because I have certain information about you, and any attempt at flight at such a juncture as this would give me an excellent excuse for dealing very summarily. Understand—I shall only see you again when you are ready to give me your decision."
My anxiety for Olga was making me like a silly frightened boy; and I went away from the man now with a chilled feeling of fear that set me doubting and speculating and anticipating a thousand forms of trouble which he could inflict upon her. I should not have a moment's peace of mind while Olga remained in Russia. That was certain.
I went back to my rooms and sat there thinking out moodily the particulars of the journey which the girl had to take alone, and my fears for her multiplied with almost every turn of my thoughts. Every detail of the position seemed to teem with additional menace and cause for alarm.
I had my own escape to think of too. I resolved, let the risks be what they might, that the instant Olga's telegram came telling me she had crossed the frontier, I should bolt; and the manner and direction of my flight had cost me many an anxious hour.
I had been looking forward to the possible necessity for a hurried flight ever since I had started the venture, and I had had time thus to make my plans fairly complete. For this purpose I had used my Nihilist connection, though I had of course kept my whole plans to myself, since I had contemplated running away from the Nihilists as much as from anyone else.
The chief difficulty was the geographical position of Moscow: the very kernel of Russia, and at tremendous distances from all the frontiers. My escape must be obviously a matter of the most careful planning, seeing that I should probably be many weeks, and perhaps months, carrying it out. From the first I abandoned all thought of making a dash straight for the frontier by train. Every outlet of the kind would be watched most jealously, alike by the police and the Nihilists: while the fact of Olga slipping through would increase a thousandfold the vigilance to prevent my following.
If Paula Tueski managed to get the permit, Olga would make her escape quickly by train, going either north-west to St. Petersburg and away by steamer: or west across the German frontier: or south-west down into Austria. Two days would do the business.
My escape was to be a very different affair.
I meant to leave Moscow on foot or pony back, disguised as a peasant woman, and as soon as I was well clear of the city, some 20 or 30 miles out, I intended to change that disguise and play the part of a horse-dealer, making for the two big horse fairs that were coming on soon at Rostov and Jaroslav—about 100 and 150 miles north respectively. For this purpose I proposed to buy up enough horses and ponies on my way to divert suspicion and sustain my part.
At Jaroslav I should sell these for what they would fetch and in the confusion of the fair time, change my character again. There I should strike the Volga: and my plan was to escape by river; working my way on the boats down to Tsaritsin and thence across by train to the Don. At the mouth of the Don, or at Taganrog, I calculated to be able to ship on a steamer across the Sea of Azov, and thence across the Black Sea, and out through the Bosphorus.
This was the outline, subject of course to any changes which necessity or expediency should suggest; and I preferred it, because if I could cut the trail between Moscow and the river, that was about the very last place in which I should be looked for; while the time that must be occupied on the river would give me the necessary opportunity for obtaining such papers as I should require to get away.
I had perfected the plan, thought out many of its details and discounted its risks, and had laid in many of the necessary disguises. But I was not destined to use them; for the direction of matters was wrested out of my hands by a stroke that checkmated me completely.
In the afternoon a letter came to me from Olga, vaguely worded, to the effect that Paula Tueski had sent for her and had given her what had been promised, and that all matters were now complete. She wished me to see her at seven o'clock.
I scribbled a line saying I would be there at the time.
The messenger, Olga's maid, went off with it: and almost before I thought she could have had time to get home and back again, she came hurrying in again breathless and excited, and all white with fear.
I thought at first she had been molested in some way in the streets—Moscow is not Eden—and I asked her what was the matter.
The reply, uttered in gasps and jerks of terror and with spasmodic sobs filled me in my turn with consternation.
Olga had been arrested during the girl's absence, and my aunt, the Countess Palitzin was like a mad-woman in her fear. She was all anxiety to see me.
"Arrested!" I cried, scarcely believing my own ears. "By whom? For what?"
"By the police; I don't know for what," wailed the girl. "But the Countess——"
"I'll go to her at once," I cried, interrupting her; and without another word I set off at once for Olga's house, with the greatest haste.
What could it all mean?
Whose blow was this? Coming at such a moment, it shattered all my plans to fragments.
I found matters just as Olga's maid had told me. The Countess was in the deepest distress, and was wringing her hands and crying herself blind in agitation and alarm.
Olga had been out in the afternoon, she told me, and had come back considerably excited. She had stayed some time in her room, and the maid now said she had been turning over her clothes. I knew what this meant. Then she had written the letter to me and sent the girl with it; but the latter had scarcely left the house before the police had arrived, had asked for Olga, and had arrested her, refusing to say a single word as to the cause.
Olga had of course gone with them, protesting to the Countess that there must be some mistake and that no doubt she would soon be again at liberty and return home. When kissing her aunt the girl had whispered to her to tell me at once, with an assurance that she was not in the least frightened.
Knowing what I knew about the system of imprisonment in Russia and how common a thing it was for a prisoner to be arrested on the flimsiest suspicion, to enter a gaol and be kept from all communication with friends and family, I did not by any means share the calmness she had professed. The suddenness of the arrest combined with the complete overthrow of all my plans incensed me beyond measure. I put to the two women all the questions that occurred to me, but got no further light. I could not hide my concern, but I did my best to make the Countess Palitzin believe that it would be in my power to help Olga.
I hurried from the house to Paula Tueski. I reckoned to get from her the best hints as to where my exertions could be most usefully exerted. But I did not find her and the news at her house was disconcerting somewhat. She had been called for suddenly and had gone out, leaving no word where she was to be found nor when she would return. All quite contrary to her usual custom.
I went on then to the chief police office. I was in uniform of course, and was received with the greatest politeness, but no information was given to me. The man who gave me an interview was complacency itself.
"I am grieved to be able to give you no information, Lieutenant," he said, politely. "But you know how our hands are tied and how one's lips are sealed in this office. In anything but that matter I am your most obedient servant: indeed, if in that very affair you can suggest how I can be of service, I pray you to command me."
"My sister was arrested by your men?" I asked.
"Most arrests are carried out by our men," was the reply.
"What is the charge against her?"
"I have not an idea."
"By whose orders was the arrest made?"
"By those of my superiors. I have but to obey."
"Where is she now?"
For answer he shrugged his shoulders, smiled blandly, and shook his head slowly.
"Can I see her?"
"Yes, of course—with an order."
"Whose order?"
"Anyone who is my superior."
"Can you give me an order?" He repeated his gesture, murmuring an expression of regret.
"You have not told me much," I said, and he smiled deprecatingly. "But it is enough to tell me where I must look for information."
His smile changed to one of congratulation, and, rising, he gave me his hand.
"Lieutenant, a brave man like you shall always command my sympathies and services so far as my duty permits," and with that official reservation he bowed me out with the most profuse of polite gestures.
I thought I saw from where the stroke came, and without any longer delay I hurried to the Prince Bilbassoff.
He was at first said to be out; and for some half hour I cooled my heels and warmed my temper and impatience striding up and down in front of the building. Then he was denied to me on the ground that he was very busily engaged; and only when I insisted that my business was exceptionally urgent and personal, was I admitted to an antechamber and left waiting there with some half dozen other.
The servant took my message, but instead of returning instantly, as had been my previous experience, to lead me at once to the Prince's room, I was left to fume in my impatience for several minutes.
I rang the bell angrily and when the servant came ordered him to shew me to the Prince instantly. But he would not, saying he dared not without orders from his master, and that he had given my message and could do no more.
I augured ill from this reception, but was in no mood to brook delay. I had nothing to lose now by boldness, and as soon as the fellow had turned his back I went to the door which I knew to be that of the Prince's room, and pushing aside the man who stood on guard outside, knocked, opened it, and marched in unceremoniously.
The Prince was in close conference with a couple of men and when he saw me he jumped up and asked me how I dared to intrude in that way.
"I have something urgent and private to say to you," said I, coolly. "If these gentlemen will give us five minutes it will be enough."
A moment's reflection sufficed to change his anger to equanimity, forced or genuine, I didn't care which, and he dismissed the men.
"There can be only one reason why you come here," he said, as soon as we were alone, speaking in a very sharp tone.
"On the contrary there may be two," I replied, copying his sharpness.
"The only condition on which I can receive you, Lieutenant, is the one I told you some hours since. Have you come to comply with it?"
"I have come to ask you why you have arrested my sister and where she is."
"Arrested whom?" he asked, with a sharp look I didn't understand.
"My sister."
"Who is that?" This with a smile of indescribable meaning.
"You knew well enough when I was here this afternoon."
"On the contrary, I knew no more than I know now. I don't even know that you have a sister. Have you?"
Either the man was a lunatic, or he knew everything. Here was obviously the reason of the altered reception. But I would not betray myself by a single word or gesture.
"I am speaking of my sister, Olga Petrovitch, whom you rescued from the hands of Major Devinsky. Now, do you know what I mean?"
"No," he answered stolidly.
"Well, do you know whom I mean?"
"I know of Olga Petrovitch."
"Then what the devil do you mean?" I cried angrily. "You have arrested her, haven't you?"
"She has been arrested," he answered quietly.
"What for?"
"You seem very anxious on her account."
"Would you have a man indifferent when his sister is whisked off to gaol by the police devils of yours?"
"Indifferent? No, indeed; certainly not. Even I am not indifferent about it. It has been of the utmost use to me, in fact."
"How long are you going to keep up these riddles, Prince? I don't pretend to be your equal at that kind of fence, and as it's perfectly evident to me you think you have a knotted whip for my back I'll wait till you're ready to lay it on."
He laughed at that.
"Are you going to accept my conditions?" he asked.
"It will depend absolutely on the result of this interview."
He paused half a minute and then taking a paper from his pocket tossed it to me with a laugh.
"Here's the key. How do you read it?" he asked, lightly.
It was indeed the key, and the instant my eyes fell on it I saw everything.
It was the permit found on Olga.
The game was up; but I wouldn't play the craven.
I tossed it back to him and laughed, a more natural and mirthful laugh than his, though I scented death in the air.
"I understand it pretty well," I said, as lightly as he had spoken. "But if you don't mind I think I'll keep my own counsel."
"You know what it means?" he asked.
"To me?" He nodded. "I can guess," I said.
"And to her?"
"No, I don't know that. But I know your law is damned hard on women."
"And this Tueski woman—why did she get this permit for—your sister?" He paused on the word.
"Wanted her out of the way, that's all."
"Is what she says true—all true?"
"That depends on what she says."
"It's a strange tale. That you're not what you call yourself; that you've taken the place of Lieutenant Alexis Petrovitch; that you're a Nihilist of the Nihilists; that you murdered her husband; and that she has the proofs of all this."
"Why did you arrest her?" I asked, as an idea occurred to me.
"That," he said, pointing to the permit.
"Did she volunteer her statement?"
A laugh of diabolical cunning spread over his face.
"Yes—when she believed you had deceived her and had fled with—your sister. Boy, no one can guard himself against a jealous Russian woman."
"Now, I see a little more clearly. But why did you arrest Olga Petrovitch?"
"Your visit to my sister this afternoon. You were too solicitous for the poor girl's nerves, and we thought it might be better for you to know that she was in safe guardianship until you had made your decision. There would at any rate be no pressing need for you to think of her leaving the country; or feel it desirable to go with her to take care of her in her shattered condition. And we were right. But even I did not expect a tithe of all that has come from the step. It is indeed seldom that I get so genuine a surprise."
"And what are you going to do—now?"
"How much of this woman's tale is true?"
"One third of it. I am not Alexis Petrovitch; but neither am I a Nihilist, nor a murderer."
"Who are you!"
"An Englishman—Hamylton Tregethner."
"But your speech—your accent—your Russian?"
"I was brought up in Moscow for the first sixteen years of my life."
"Tregethner, Hamylton Tregethner," he murmured, repeating the name as if it were not wholly unfamiliar to him. Then after a pause he asked me where the real Lieutenant Petrovitch was; and questioned me searchingly and very shrewdly as to the whole details of my change of identity. I concealed nothing.
"You English are devils," he said, when his questions were nearly exhausted. "I hate the lot of you—except you. And you're as big a devil as any of them. But you have the pluck of a hundred."
I shrugged my shoulders, laughed, lolled back in my chair and lighted a cigarette.
"I've enjoyed it," I said, "and that's the plain truth. I didn't like the lies I had to tell; but then I never had any training in the diplomatic service, and that makes the difference. But all the same I've enjoyed it; and what's more, if it had been possible, I'd have fought for the Little Father as keenly as any born Russ in the ranks. But it's over, and so far as I'm concerned, you can do what you like with me. I should like to save that girl. She's one in ten thousand for pluck. And you owe her something too, as she saved my life from a treacherous thrust of Devinsky's sword for you to take it. You might let her have her liberty in its place. It's infernally hard on the girl that her cowardly brute of a brother should let her in for all this mess; and then that I, with all the good will in the world, should thrust her deeper into the mud. It's damned hard!"
The Prince was watching me closely and thinking hard.
"Why did you hesitate to accept my proposal?" he asked, sharply.
"For a very plain reason. While I appreciated the honour and advantage of an alliance with your sister, I loved Olga Petrovitch, and preferred to marry her."
"I won't tell my sister that," he said, laughing sardonically. After a pause he added:—"How much does—your sister know of our matter?"
"Everything."
"Names?" and he stared as if to penetrate right into my brain.
"No—not of the man to be fought."
"On your honour?"
"On my honour."
"If she is released, will you go on with it?"
"If she is put across the frontier," I returned grimly.
"Don't you trust me?"
"You, yes; but your agents, no." He smiled.
"You should go far with the daring with which you push your fortunes."
"Probably I shall go on till my head falls by the wayside," I answered. I was utterly reckless now. But my tactics succeeded when nothing else could have won.
He took a form and wrote.
"Here is the permit for her to leave the country. It is yours—on conditions."
"What are they? Never mind what they are," I added, quickly. "I accept them in advance. Save that girl, who is innocent, and do what you like with me."
"Do you know what I ought to do with you?" he asked.
"Yes; better than you do. Write me a permit also and have me conducted to the frontier at the same time. But I don't know what you think you should do."
"I ought to write out a very different order and have you both sent straight to the Mallovitch yonder; and let things take their course."
"Well, it's fortunate for me then," I replied, with a laugh, "that your interest and your judgment pull different ways. You won't do that, Prince."
"How do I know that you are not a Nihilist?"
"Instinct, judgment, knowledge of men, knowledge of me—everything. Besides, if you want proof, no one knows better than yourself that a cipher telegram sent to London, and inquiries made in half a dozen places that I can mention, will put ample proofs in your hands to shew who I am. So far as I know there's one man in Russia at the present moment and actually coming to Moscow, who'll stir up the British Legation and every British consulate in the country to the search for Hamylton Tregethner. That's the Hon. Rupert Balestier." Then I told him what had happened in Paris. At first he smiled, but soon grew thoughtful again.
"I warn you, too," I added, when he made no answer, "that if you chop my head off or stifle me in one of your infernal prisons, or send me packing to Siberia, Balestier is just the man to raise a devil of a clatter. And you don't want a row with our Foreign Office just at the moment when things are so ticklish with the Sick Man."
He waved his hand as if to put all such considerations away from him.
"If the girl you call your sister had got away, did you mean to try to escape?"
"Certainly I did," replied I, frankly, and I told him the scheme I had formed.
"And now?"
"If I give my word I shall keep it. You Russians never seem to think a man will keep his parole to his own disadvantage. We English think differently—and act as we think."
"If we postpone this talk till to-morrow, have I your word that you'll make no attempt to escape?"
"No, indeed, you haven't. Let this girl go at once; then you can have it and welcome."
"You seem to forget that I can keep you under guard?"
"I forget nothing of the kind. Clap me into a prison and you may whistle for anyone to carry out—to do what you wish. You can decide now, or lose the option. That's in the rules of a game like this."
"You carry things with a high hand," he cried angrily.
"Most probably I shouldn't be here if I didn't," said I, with a laugh. "It's my advantage to force the pace at this juncture; and the risk's too big to throw away a single chance."
He made no reply, but pushing back his chair got up and walked about the room, in a state of indecision absolutely foreign to his character and habits.
I knew how momentous the decision was. If I were the dangerous Nihilist that Paula Tueski had declared, the risk of letting me free and entrusting to me such a task as that we had discussed was critical and deadly. The Russian instinct was to clap me into a gaol and be done with me; but the personal feeling pulled him in the other direction—to use me for a tool in the project that was all in all to him. With the Grand Duke once out of his path there was nothing between him and almost absolute rule.
I watched him with an anxiety he little suspected, for my manner was studiously careless, indifferent, and reckless.
"Did you give this girl any particular task if she escaped?" he asked, stopping suddenly in his walk close to me.
"Certainly; to find Rupert Balestier, tell him of my position, and get him to try and smooth away the difficulties. I had also arranged how she could communicate with and find me if I managed to get away."
He took the answer as I gave it with perfect frankness, and it seemed to help his decision. He resumed his pacing backwards and forwards.
Two or three minutes later he stopped his walk and taking the permit he had written held it out to me.
"Will you give me your word as an English gentleman that if I give you this and allow the girl to leave Russia, you will make no attempt to escape, and will go on with the proposal we have discussed?"
It was my turn to hesitate now.
"No, I cannot," I said after a moment's thought. "An Englishman cannot lend himself out as an assassin, Prince Bilbassoff. I will do this. I will give you my word of honour not to attempt to leave Russia, and if a meeting between the Grand Duke and myself can be arranged without dishonour to me, I pledge myself to meet him. I will never take that word back unless you release me; but more I cannot do. Let Olga Petrovitch go, and you shall do as you will with me."
"I take your word," he said, quietly. "Your identity will remain unknown. Your sister will leave for the frontier under escort at midnight. You can take the news to her, and she can leave with you to make her arrangements for departure. I hold you responsible for her; and you will explain only what is necessary to her. You remain a Russian."
And with the permit and the order for her instant release in my hand I left him, conscious that I had been brushing my back against a dungeon door the whole time and had only just escaped finding myself on the wrong side of it.
Poor Olga! I shall not easily forget the effect the news had on her.
I went out from the interview impregnated with the conviction that I was now indeed hopelessly baffled. I saw how completely the whole position had been changed. The very axis had shifted. And the knowledge that I had to make Olga understand it all before she left Russia was more unpalatable and depressing than I can describe.
Up to the present moment there had indeed been the slight off-chance that we should both escape, and the knowledge that if we could only do so, we might find happiness in another country. But that hope was as dead as a coffin nail. I was bound to Moscow by a shackle more powerful than iron fetters. I had pledged myself not to attempt to go until the Prince himself had given me permission; and I knew that he would never think of doing this until the duel had been in some way arranged. On the other hand the Nihilist attack on the Emperor was to be made in two days' time. If it succeeded an ignominious death at the hands of the law could be the only result for me; while if it failed, death was almost as certain at the hands of the Nihilists who would adjudge me their betrayer.
Between the upper and nether millstones I was helpless; certain only of being crushed by them. Thus nothing could make me believe that I should ever again set eyes on the woman whose release I had thus secured and whom I now loved with all my heart.
Nor could I part from her without allowing her to see something of this.
She was indeed so quick to appreciate the meaning of what I told her, that all the sweet pleasure and gladness she shewed when welcoming me changed in a moment to sadness.
"I would ten thousand times rather not go," she said. "I do not care what they do to me. I have brought you into this, and it is me they should punish," she said more than once.
"But you can't do what this man wants, Olga," said I with a smile, to reassure her. "If you could, he would probably let me go and hold on to you. If I couldn't, he would hold on to us both. But you must go for this reason. You must find Balestier and tell him to come here. He must stop making a fuss about Hamylton Tregethner, and just come on here and see me and let us try together to find out some solution of the puzzle. But he must hold his tongue unless talking to the right pair of ears."
"I shall know no rest till I find him," replied Olga instantly. "And if I do not, I shall come back here. I will not leave you like this."
I kissed her; but did not tell her that so far as I was concerned her return would be useless, for the cogent reason that I should not be alive. It was impossible that I could survive by many hours the Imperial visit. This I kept from her, however, for the farewell was already more than sufficiently sad and trying; and I doubt if any consideration on earth would have induced her to leave if she had really known how imminent was my danger.
I talked much indeed of the help Balestier might be able to render, and thus impressed on her strongly the need for her to find him, however long it might take her. This giving her a task and connecting it with the work of helping me, kept her hope alive and tended to reconcile her to the parting, so that in the end she shook off much of her depression. I could see also she was battling with her feelings to distress me as little as possible.
I loved her the more as I saw this, but the parting was such pain for us both, that I was glad when it was over. I stood and watched the train steam out of the station and saw her leaning from the carriage window to catch the last glimpse of me. And I was sad indeed, as I turned away with a positively choking sense of loneliness such as I had never felt before in all my life.
The departure of my brave little sister, clever-witted counsellor, and dearest companion seemed to leave such a void in my life that in the first hours which followed her departure I mourned for her as one grieves for the dead. And in truth she was dead to me.
But the events of the day following left me little time for meditation. It was Sunday and a day of brisk action. Early in the morning there were special regimental duties; and on my return to my rooms for breakfast I found waiting for me a stranger, whose card, given to my servant, described him as "J. W. Junker, St Petersburg Gazette."
He rose at my entrance and said in a very pleasant voice:—
"Excuse a journalist's liberty in coming to you. I am the special correspondent of the St Petersburg Gazette and have come to do the Czar's visit, and I should very much like a word with you on the matter."
"I don't see where I can be of any help, but if there's anything I can tell you, fire away," I said. "I've had a couple of hours' drill this morning, however, and I have to be on the parade ground in less than an hour, so you must excuse me if I have my breakfast while we chat. But perhaps you'll join me?"
"With the greatest pleasure," and down he sat, and while the servant was in the room for the first few minutes, he chatted away like the bright and pleasant fellow he appeared to be. But as soon as my man had left the room, his manner changed suddenly and his voice took a direct earnest tone that made me look at him in some astonishment.
"Don't have that fellow back again. Is it all acting, or don't you really recognise me? I knew you in a moment."
"Did you? Well, I certainly don't know you. I never met a journalist——" He broke in with a short laugh and waved his hand with a quick gesture of imperative impatience as he stared at me hard. His manner annoyed me.
"Well, if you're not what you said you were, what the devil are you doing here? What do you want?" I felt like pitching him out of the place.
"Didn't you expect me?"
"Expect you? No; how should I?"
"Instructions were sent to prepare you."
"I can only say I haven't the ghost of a notion what you want."
"To complete the arrangements for to-morrow's glorious event," and his face lighted with a momentary enthusiasm.
"How am I to know you?" I asked, suspiciously.
"I am Gorvas Lassthum; and I saw you twelve months ago when the other plan was laid, as you will remember, and failed. Your memory is treacherous, my friend."
"There are some things I train it to forget," I answered, equivocally.
I was in a fix. I guessed the man was a Nihilist agent, of course, and his air of self-importance suggested that he was high up in the leadership. But on the other hand Moscow was at the moment swarming with spies of all kinds; and this might be one. I assumed an air of extreme caution therefore, and after a flash of thought added: "And some that I prefer not to know at all. It pleases me now to hold that from my side you and I are strangers. You know me well; say then just what you wish to say. I on my side don't know you, and prefer to say nothing."
"Good," he cried; and reaching out offered me his hand and when I gave him mine, he pressed it and said earnestly:—"Would God we had more men like you—so ready in act and so cautious in word."
I bowed and made no other sign.
"You have the orders for the disposition of the troops to-morrow, and at the last minute the whole of them, or the most of them, will be changed. You yourself will be detailed to guard that part of the line which runs over the flat stretch by the river on the further side of the Vsatesk station. Guard it well; for a greater life than that of the Emperor depends on your vigilance—the life of the People."
As he said this another of those little flashes of light that seemed to transform him from a pleasant man of the world into an enthusiast leapt into his eyes. A pause followed in which I said nothing.
"Your orders will be to station your men at set distances on either side of the line—it being an easy place to guard—and you will have some three miles of the line under your command. It is good. Now, take thought. At one point in about the centre of your section, the land dips and the line is embanked to a height of some ten feet, for a length of about half a mile. At that spot there are four alder trees—three to the left of the line, and one to the right. These three form an irregular triangle, one side of which is much shorter than the others; and if you follow the short line which those two trees make, you will find that they form a comparatively straight line with the fourth tree on the other side of the railway embankment. Do you follow me?"
He made a rough model on the table-cloth, using some of the breakfast things for the purpose of shewing the positions of the railway and the trees.
"No one can mistake that," I said.
"Well, you are to take up your position here, you yourself, I mean, here, in a dead straight line between these two trees"—demonstrating them on the table-cloth—"for this is where there will be an accident. And now, pay close heed to this. You will go out by train; and when your men are paraded at the station they will be joined by five of ours. These will mingle with yours at the very last moment; and if any questions are asked they will produce the necessary authority. These five men you will arrange carefully to take the next five positions to you on your right hand. When the train leaves the line, they will instantly close round and guard the Emperor's carriage; and you will see that nothing prevents them. That is all you have to do; and if you act discreetly you will run no risk. You will not fail. They know their duties and will do them; and will let no one come between them and their noble task. Five bolder men do not breathe in all Russia. Remember, they are to be stationed next to you on your right. You understand?"
"Every item."
"It is a great day for you, friend," he said.
"It is a great day for Russia," I returned; and soon after he left me.
I was filled with the most anxious doubt as to what course I ought to take to checkmate this horrible plot, of which I was the most unwilling depository and was marked out as the forced agent.
During the whole day I was turning the problem over and over in my thoughts: and I could see no course that would be at all effective in thwarting the plot without at the same time exposing myself to all the hazard of being punished as a Nihilist. I could, of course, tell the police or Prince Bilbassoff, but this meant a double danger for me. They would take measures to alter the arrangements as to the visit; the reason for this would have to be told to the Czar; it would certainly leak out to the Nihilists, and I should be a mark for their assassins at once. On the other hand the story told by Paula Tueski would seem to have the corroboration which my acquaintance with Nihilist matters would give to it, and I should be in peril there.
One consideration there was that gave some reassurance. I had already had the orders for the distribution of the troops, and I knew that I was to be miles away from those cursed alder trees at the moment when the Czar would be passing. I knew too that if the plot went wrong in that main feature, it would fail altogether.
The Nihilists were not such fools as to draw down on themselves all the sensational punishments which would inevitably follow the discovery of an organised attempt on the life of the Czar, for the mere empty purpose of sending the Imperial train off the line. Unless therefore, they had some emissary so highly placed as to be in possession of the information long before any of us in Moscow knew about it, the whole machinery was likely to be stopped for the one flaw. And though I had had some proofs of the extraordinary accuracy of their information, I could not believe their power to be such as this necessitated.
But in the afternoon, when according to arrangement I went again to the Prince Bilbassoff, startling news awaited me, that redoubled all these doubts and difficulties, and set them buzzing and rushing through my brain, threatening to muddle my wits altogether.
There was a distinct change in the manner of his reception of me, and it pleased me to set this down to the fact that his opinion of me was raised by the knowledge that the black past of Alexis Petrovitch was mine only by adoption, and that in reality I had the clean antecedents of an English gentleman.
"I can't give you more than a few minutes," he said, "and I must therefore squeeze as much as possible into them. I have taken your suggestion and have wired to London to find out about you. The result is what I am bound to say I hoped; and the consequences are I am going to trust you."
"That's as you please," said I, quietly.
"It does please me, because I don't want this duel to fall through. Now you want some cause for fighting that will satisfy your honour. Will you fight this man if he insults you?"
"I'll fight any man who does that," I replied.
"Now, whose officer are you?"
"The Czar's, while I am in Russia."
"Will you risk your life in his service?"
"My sword is absolutely at his service."
"If you should hear His Majesty insulted in your presence would you face the man who did it?"
"As surely as effect follows cause."
"Then this man's whole life is an insult to the Czar."
"In what way?"
"He is a Nihilist to his finger-tips. His presence near the throne is a standing menace to the Emperor; his hand is ever raised to seek his Majesty's life; and his whole life is that of a traitor who learns the highest secrets only to betray them to these enemies of God and the Emperor."
"What proof have you?" I asked in the profoundest astonishment. I began to see now how the most secret information leaked out.
"None, boy. Or do you think he would be where he is for an hour?"
"Then how do you know it?"
"If a secret is known to three people, two of whom you know to be as staunch as steel, and yet it gets out—how do you think it happens? If this happens not only once but two or three times, what do you think of the man? This man is a traitor; and as surely as there is a God in Heaven, the Crown is not firmly on my master's head while the man remains alive. Now, will you fight him?"
"The matter is a public, not personal, one: Russian not English. My sword is not a bravo's to be hired for that sort of work."
He swore a deep oath under his breath at this, and then changed it to a laugh with an ugly ring in it.
"If you mean to climb, my young cockerel, we must see more of your spurs and hear less of your scruples. Personal! Good God, what more do you want? Aren't you the Emperor's own property? Isn't the Little Father in danger? Isn't that enough? Personal! Ugh. Well, is this personal enough for you? His Highness has already done you the honour to pick you out for the favour of his ill will. This is a letter which by one of those little accidents that do sometimes happen in my office, has fallen into my hands. He is writing to an agent of his here in Moscow. Listen: 'There is a young lieutenant of the Moscow Infantry Regiment, named Petrovitch, about whom I want all the possible information. He is a dishonourable scoundrel, I understand—a dicing, gambling, drinking fellow, who thinks he can crow and strut on the crest of his dunghill with impunity because he had the luck to beat a better man than himself in a duel, and the insolence to insult another officer—one of my friends—and then hide himself under official protection. I hear now that he is meditating another and a greater coup. I know much about him, but want you to get me as much more information as possible. Such swash-buckling knaves are a disgrace and danger to everything they touch. He is not to be trusted in anything and all reasons make his overthrow necessary.'"
As he finished reading the extract, the Prince paused and lowering the letter looked at me over the top. Then without giving me time to answer, he continued:—
"Your 'butcher Durescq' was this man's close friend and tool—doing his work for him. It was through this patron's influence that Durescq escaped being turned out of the army altogether. Now, you can see two things—why this man hates you, and how it was I heard of you. Is that personal enough, Lieutenant?"
"By God, I should think it is," cried I, on fire with rage. "What does he dare to interfere with me for?" As I asked the question the reason flashed upon me as by inspiration. He had heard of my being associated with Prince Bilbassoff and was afraid that as I knew so much about Nihilism, I should get to learn of his connection with it, and he thus deemed it best to have me put out of the way. He meant to have me "removed." When I looked up, the Prince's keen subtle eyes were fixed on me with calculating intentness.
"It is curious that this man should fix on you as the object of his resentment—even though he is a Nihilist. Take care, my friend. I know you have inherited a Nihilist black cloak and dagger with your other undesirable possessions; beware how you use them."
"I believe the real Alexis had dealings with them," I said.
"If this Tueski woman manages to let them understand the truth, then, you will need the wariest wits in the world to avoid stumbling."
"You have maddened me," I cried, as if impetuously, and in the highest excitement. "Get me a meeting with that villain and were he twenty times the swordsman he is, and covered in iron mail from head to foot, my sword should find a chink to let the life out of him. I am on fire."
Then I rushed away; for in truth I dared not stay to be any longer questioned about my relations with the Nihilists.
It all seemed clear to me now. They meant to use me for the horrible business of the following day; and then under some pretext get rid of me—murder me if necessary—or denounce me. This man held that I knew too much for his safety.
All this was supposing, of course, that I escaped the danger of the plot itself.