T
The unnatural strain I had put on my strength, undermined as it had been by the drugged vodka, gave way under this depressing failure, and for an instant I seriously thought of abandoning my effort to catch the Czar’s messenger.
I could leave Colonel Menken to pursue his journey, taking care of himself as best he could, while I followed by a later train. But I had little thought of that, as to adopt such a course would be to abandon the gallant officer to his fate. Whatever the War Syndicate might or might not know or suspect about myself, there could be no doubt that they knew all there was to know about Menken, and that the Colonel would never be allowed to reach Dalny with his despatch, alive.
“Show me the passenger list,” I demanded sternly, determined to use to the full the advantages conferred on me by my uniform.
The station inspector hastened to obey. He took me into the booking office, opened a volume, and there I read the name and destination of every passenger who had left for Moscow that night. It is by such precautionsthat the Russian police are enabled to control the Russian nation as the warders control the convicts in an English prison.
At the very head of the list I read the name of Colonel Menken, passenger to Dalny, on his imperial majesty’s service.
It was incredible folly thus publicly to proclaim himself as an object of suspicion to the powerful clique engaged in thwarting the policy of their nominal ruler.
I glanced my eye down the list in search of some name likely to be that of an emissary of the Syndicate. It was with something like a shock that I came upon the conspicuous entry—
“The Princess Y——, lady-in-waiting to H. I. M. the Dowager Empress, passenger to Port Arthur, on a visit to her uncle, commanding one of the forts.”
Stamping my foot angrily, in order to impress the railway official, I said—
“Order a pilot engine immediately to take me to Moscow. Tell the driver he is to overtake the express, and enter the Moscow station behind it.”
There was some demur, of course, and some delay. But I wore the livery of the dreaded Third Section, and my words were more powerful than if I had been the young man who wears the Russian crown.
By dint of curses, threats, blows and an occasional ruble note, I got my way. Indeed, I managed thingsso well that the railway officials did not even ask me for my name. I showed them my official badge; but when they made their report in the morning they would only be able to say that an inspector of the Secret Police had ordered a pilot engine to take him to Moscow in pursuit of the midnight express.
The impression which I was careful to convey, without putting it into words, was that I was on the track of an absconding Nihilist.
Within half an hour of my arrival at the terminus a light but powerful locomotive drew up on the main line of rails, with everything in readiness for an immediate start.
I leaped into the driver’s cab, where I found the driver himself and two stokers hard at work increasing the head of steam, and gave the order to go.
The driver touched the tap, the whistle rang out once, and the wheels began to revolve. Ten seconds later we were beyond the station lights and facing the four hundred miles of frozen plain that lay between us and Moscow.
Every one has heard the story of this famous piece of road. The engineers of the line, accustomed to map out their routes in other countries with reference to the natural obstacles and the convenience of commerce, waited upon the great autocrat, Nicholas I., a very different man from his descendant, and asked him for instructions as to laying out the first railway in the Russian Empire.
The Czar called for a map of his dominions, and then, taking a ruler in his hand, drew a straight line between the old and new capitals.
And so the line has been made, a symbol to all who travel on it of the irresponsible might of the Russian Czardom.
It was not till we were fairly on our way, and the speed had risen to something like fifty miles an hour, that I realized what I had done in entering on this furious race.
I had never traveled on a detached engine before, and the sensation at first was quite unnerving.
Unlike a motor car, in which the hand of the driver has to be perpetually on the steering-gear, and his eye perpetually on the alert, the pilot engine seemed to be flung forward like a missile, guided by its own velocity, and clinging to the endless rails with its wheels as with iron claws. With the rush as of wind, with the roar as of a cataract, with the rocking as of an earthquake, the throbbing thing of iron sprang and fled through the night.
Hour after hour we rushed across the blinding desert of snow, in which nothing showed except the flying disk of light cast by the engine lamps, and the red and white balls of fire that seemed to start, alight, and go out again as we frantically dashed past some wayside station.
As the speed increased the light pilot engine, notsteadied by a long train of coaches, almost rose from the rails as it raced along. Over and over again I thanked my stars that there were no curves to be taken, and I blessed the memory of that famous ruler wielded by the hand of Nicholas I. Here and there, at some slight rise in the ground, the engine literally did leave the rails and skim through the air for a few yards, alighting with a jar that brought my teeth together like castanets, and rushing forward again.
I clung to a small brass hand-rail, and strained my eyes through the darkness. I could not have sat down, even had there been a seat provided for me—the pace was too tremendous. I was tired and unwell, and a slight feeling of headache and sickness began to gain on me, engendered by the vibration of the engine, the smell of oil, and the fearful heat of the furnace.
It was some hours since we had started, but it was still pitch dark, with the wintry blackness of a northern night. I leaned and gazed forward with dull eyes, when I was aware of two red sparks that did not grow and rush toward us as I expected.
Were we slackening speed by any chance? I turned to the engine driver, and pointed with my hand.
The grimy toiler nodded. Then making a trumpet of his hands he shouted above the rattle of the wheels—
“The rear-lights of the express!”
I
Idrew out my watch and glanced at it by the light of the flaring stoke-hole. It was just half-past eight.
The time taken up on the journey between Petersburg and Moscow varies greatly according to the state of the weather and the amount of snow on the line. But even in the summer the best trains are allowed twelve hours, while the slow ones take nearly twenty-four. The special Siberian express was timed to reach the ancient capital of the czars at ten o’clock in the morning, and we had overtaken it with rather more than an hour to spare.
I ordered the driver to creep up gradually, but not to approach too near the hindmost coach of the train in front until Moscow was in sight.
Obedient to my instructions, he slackened speed by degrees, till we were rolling along at the same rate as the express, with a space of three or four hundred yards between us.
Presently a red flag was thrust out from a side windowat the rear of the last coach and waved furiously. The driver of my engine responded with first a green and then a white signal, indication that there was no danger though caution was desirable.
The express perceptibly quickened its speed, but of course without our allowing it to get farther ahead. At last the spires of the Kremlin, and the green copper domes gleamed out across the waste, and I nodded to the driver to close up.
He managed the maneuver with the skill of an artist. Inch by inch we neared the guard’s van in front, and our buffers were actually touching as the engine in front blew off steam and we slowed alongside the Moscow station.
Before the wheels of the express had ceased to move I was out on the platform, and running up to the guard of the express.
“I have come on the pilot engine from Petersburg,” I told him hurriedly. “Tell no one of my arrival. Do not report the chase. If you are questioned, say that you have orders to say nothing. And now tell me which is the train for Dalny and Port Arthur, and when does it leave?”
The guard, thoroughly cowed, promised implicit obedience. He showed me a long corridor train with handsome sleeping cars and dining saloons, which was drawn up ready at another platform.
“That is the train which goes to Baikal,” he toldme. “If the ice on the lake will bear, rails may be laid right across it; if not, there will be sleighs to transport the passengers to a train on the other side. The train leaves at noon.”
I thanked him and strolled off down the platform, glancing into the carriages of the newly-arrived train as I passed in search of the Czar’s messenger.
I did not anticipate that any harm could have happened to him so soon after leaving Petersburg. The object of the conspirators would be defeated if Nicholas II. learned of any accident to his messenger in time to send another despatch. It was more likely, at least so I argued, that the Princess Y—— would accompany her victim across Siberia, gradually worming her way into his confidence, and that only at the last moment would she show her hand.
It was with a slight start that I encountered the face of the fair emissary of M. Petrovitch, as she came to the door of her sleeping compartment and looked out.
I was delighted to observe that this time she did not suspect me. In fact, she evidently mistook me for one of the ordinary station officials, for she gave me a haughty command:
“Go and see if there is a telegram for the Princess Y——.”
Making a respectful salute I hastened off in the direction of the telegraph office. On the way I interrupteda man in uniform carrying an envelope in his hand.
“For the Princess Y——?” I demanded.
The man scowled at me and made as if to conceal the telegram. I saw that it was a case for a tip and handed him a ruble note, on which he promptly parted with his trust.
I turned around, and as soon as the messenger had moved off, I tore open the envelope and read the message. Fortunately, it was not in cipher, the rules against any such use of the wires, except by the Government, being too strict.
This is what I read:
“Our friend, who is now an inspector, will join you at Moscow. Look out for him. He has left his luggage with us, but does not know it.”
“Our friend, who is now an inspector, will join you at Moscow. Look out for him. He has left his luggage with us, but does not know it.”
Accident, which had hitherto opposed my designs, was favoring them at last. It was clear that Rostoy had betrayed me, and that Petrovitch had sent this wire to the Princess to put her on her guard. But what was the “luggage” which I was described as having left in the hands of M. Petrovitch?
I thought I knew.
Crumpling up the tell-tale message in my pocket, I darted into the telegraph office, and beckoned to the clerk in charge.
“On his majesty’s secret service,” I breathed in his ear, drawing him on one side. I showed him mypolice badge, and added, “An envelope and telegram form, quick!”
Overwhelmed by my imperative manner, he handed me the required articles. I hastily scribbled:
“Our friend has parted with his luggage, though he does not know it. He has been unwell, but may follow you next week. To save trouble do not wire to us till you return.”
“Our friend has parted with his luggage, though he does not know it. He has been unwell, but may follow you next week. To save trouble do not wire to us till you return.”
Slipping this into the envelope, I addressed it to the Princess, and hastened back to the carriage where I had left her.
I found her fuming with impatience and scolding her maid, who looked on half awake. I handed her the bogus telegram with a cringing gesture. She snatched at it, tore off the cover and read, while I watched her furtively from under my lowered eyelashes.
The first part of the message evidently gave her the greatest pleasure. The second part, it was equally evident, puzzled and annoyed her.
“Fool! What is he afraid of now?” she muttered beneath her breath.
She stood gnawing her rose-red lips for a moment—even a night passed in the train could not make her look less charming—and then turned to me.
“That will do. No answer. Here, Marie, give this man a couple of rubles.”
I received the gratuity with a look of satisfactionwhich must have surprised the tired waiting maid. In reality I had scored a most important point. Thanks to my suppression of the first message and my addition to the second, I had completely cut off communication between the agent of the Syndicate and its head in Petersburg, for a time; while I had lulled the beautiful plotter into a false security, by which I was likely to benefit.
My anxieties considerably lightened for the time being, I now renewed my search for Colonel Menken.
The train from Petersburg had emptied by this time, so I moved across the station to where the luxurious Manchurian express was being boarded by its passengers.
I got in at one end, and made my way slowly along the corridors, stepping over innumerable bags and other light articles. In a corner of the smoking car I came at last upon the man I sought.
Colonel Menken was a young man for his rank, not over thirty, with a fine, soldierly figure, handsome face and rather dandified air. He wore a brilliant uniform, which looked like that of some crack regiment of Guards. A cigar was in his mouth, and he was making a little nest for himself with rugs and books and papers, and a box of choice Havanas. A superb despatch box, with silver mounts, was plainly marked with his initials, also in silver.
I did not dare to choose a seat for myself in thesame part of the train as the man whom I was anxious to guard. The oppressive powers wielded by the police of Russia are tolerated only on one condition, namely, that they are never abused to the disparagement of the social importance of the aristocracy.
Bearing this in mind, I proceeded to the coach set aside for the servants of the rich passengers, and contrived to secure a place close to that occupied in the day-time by the maid of the Princess.
Having more than an hour to spare, I now laid in a large stock of Turkish tobacco and cigarette papers, so as to have some means of beguiling the time on the long, wearisome run across Asia. I also bought a second-hand valise, and stocked it modestly with clothes. Finally I made a hearty breakfast in the station restaurant, and boarded the train a few minutes before it rolled out of Moscow.
Needless to say, I had introduced myself to the superintendent of the train, an official of great dignity and importance. As a police agent, of course I traveled free on the Government lines. The superintendent was good enough to offer me a spare bed in his private cabin at the end of the train, and during the run we became the best of friends.
But I must be excused from dwelling on the details of the journey, not the first I had taken on the great transasiatic line. My whole energies were absorbedin two tasks. In the first place, I had to gain the confidence of the maid, Marie, and in the second to prevent her mistress gaining the confidence of the messenger of the Czar.
“I hope that message I brought to the Princess did not contain any bad news?” I said to Marie as soon as I got a chance of addressing her.
This was when we were fairly on the way.
After first attending to her mistress, and seeing that she was comfortably settled, the maid was at liberty to look after herself, and I had seized the opportunity to render her a few trifling services with her luggage.
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” was the answer to my question. “The Princess tells me nothing of her secrets.”
“Perhaps the Princess Y——”
“Oh, let’s call her Sophy,” the maid interrupted crossly.
Needless to say I welcomed these symptoms that Marie was no great friend of her employer.
“Perhaps she has no secrets,” I continued. “Have you been with her long?”
“Only six months,” was the answer. “And I don’t think I shall stay much longer. But you’re quite mistaken if you think Sophy is one of the innocent ones. She’s always up to some mischief or other, though what it is, I don’t know.”
“If you stay with her a little longer, you may findout. And then, if it is anything political, you may make a good deal of money out of her.”
The girl’s eyes brightened.
“Keep your eyes open,” I said. “Look out for any scraps of paper you see lying about. Keep a diary of the places Sophy goes to, and the people she sees. And when you have anything to tell, let me know. I will give you my address in Petersburg. And you may trust me to see that you come off well.”
Marie readily agreed to all I asked of her. The understanding thus arrived at was destined to be of the greatest assistance to me. Indeed, it is not too much to say that to this young Russian girl it is due that the two greatest Powers in the Old World are not at this moment battling on the Afghan frontier.
We had hardly been an hour under way before I saw the two objects of my watchfulness seated side by side in the drawing-room car, apparently on the friendliest terms.
Dismayed by this rapid progress, as it seemed, on the part of the Princess, I reproached myself for not having warned Colonel Menken before we started.
I resolved to put him on his guard at the earliest possible moment, and with that view I hung about the smoking-car, waiting till I saw him return to his corner.
This was not for some hours. Fortunately, owing to the universal expectation of war, there were notmany passengers proceeding to the Far East. The train was practically empty, and so when Colonel Menken had seated himself once more in the snug corner he had prepared for himself, I was able to approach him without fear of being overheard.
He was just lighting a cigar as I came up, and took no notice of my respectful salute till he had inhaled the tobacco smoke two or three times and expelled it through his nostrils to test the flavor.
At last he turned to me.
“Well?” he said with some sharpness. “What is the matter?”
“I have seen in the passenger list that you are traveling on the service of the Czar,” I answered, “and I venture to place myself at your orders.”
Colonel Menken scowled at me haughtily.
“Does that mean that you want a tip?” he sneered. “Or has some fool ordered you to shadow me?”
“Neither, Colonel,” I replied. “I am a servant of the Czar, like yourself, as you may see from my uniform, and as I have reason to fear that there is an enemy of his majesty on the train, I wish to put you on your guard.”
Menken gave a self-confident smile.
“I am pretty well able to take care of myself, I believe,” he said boastfully. “As for the Nihilists, I no longer believe in their existence. You may point out the man you suspect, if you like, of course.”
“It is not a man, Colonel, it is a woman.”
“In that case the adventure promises to be interesting. I do not know any of the women on board except the PrincessY——.”
“You know her!” I allowed a note of surprise to appear in my voice.
“The Princess is related to me,” the Czar’s messenger declared, with a rebuking frown. “I presume she is not the object of your suspicions?”
“And if she were?”
“If she were, I should tell you that you had made a very absurd mistake, my good fellow. The Princess is in the confidence of the Dowager Empress; she is perfectly aware of the object of my mission, and she has just promised me that if I carry it out successfully she will become my wife.”
C
Colonel Menken regarded me with ironical contempt as I tried to apologize for my hinted distrust of his betrothed.
“That will do, my man. I shall tell the Princess of your blunder, and I can assure you she will be heartily amused by it.”
“At least you will remember that I wear his imperial majesty’s uniform,” I ventured. “And, however much I have been misled as to the intentions of her highness, I submit that I am entitled to secrecy on your part.”
“Am I to understand that some one has given you orders referring to the Princess? I thought this was simply some idle suspicion of your own?”
“My instructions were to watch over your safety, without letting you perceive it, and to take particular note of any one who seemed to be trying to form your acquaintance on the journey. If you now denounce me to her highness, she will be annoyed, and in any case I shall be of no further use to you.”
“So much the better,” the Colonel said rudely.“I consider your being here at all as an act of impertinence. If I engage to say nothing to the Princess—who, as you say, might be annoyed—will you undertake to leave me alone for the future?”
“I will undertake to leave the train at Tomsk,” I replied.
Colonel Menken closed with this offer, which was meant as a delusive one. I had selected the first important stopping-place at which the train waited sufficiently long for me to procure the materials of a fresh disguise.
I took the train superintendent into my confidence, as far as to say that I wished to assume a false character for the remainder of the journey in order to be better able to play the spy on the object of my suspicion. We agreed that one of the train attendants should be put off at Tomsk, and that I should take his place.
After my scene with the Colonel, I could not venture to do much in the way of overlooking them. But I made the best use of my friendship with Marie, and she reported to me regularly what she observed of the doings of her mistress.
“It is my belief that Sophy is going to marry that stupid Colonel,” she informed me, not long after I had heard of the engagement. “Why? I can’t think. He has no brains, not much money, and I am certain she is not in love with him.”
“There has been a quarrel of some kind between those two,” she reported later on. “Colonel Menken has been questioning Sophy about her reason for going to Port Arthur just now, when it may be attacked by the Japanese.”
All this time the Princess had made no move to possess herself of the despatch which Menken was carrying—the real object of her presence on board the train.
When Tomsk was reached, I went off into the town and procured different hair and beard so as to effect a complete change in my appearance. The disguise was clumsy enough, but, after all, neither the Colonel nor his companion had had many opportunities of studying my personal appearance.
In the little cabin of my friend the superintendent I carried out the transformation, and finished by donning the livery of the railway restaurant service.
Thus equipped, I proceeded to lay the table at which the betrothed pair usually took their meals together.
As soon as the next meal, which happened to be dinner, was ready, I proceeded to wait upon them. They noticed the change of waiters, and asked me what had become of my predecessor.
“He got off at Tomsk,” I told them. This was true—the getting rid of the waiter whose place I wished to take had been a simple matter. It must beremembered that I found myself everywhere received as an inspector attached to the secret police, the dreaded Third Section, and, in consequence, my word was law to those I had to deal with.
I added with an assumed air of mysterious consequence, “The Inspector of Police also left the train at Tomsk. It is asserted that he is going to make an important arrest.”
Colonel Menken laughed. Then turning to the beautiful woman who sat facing him across the small table, he said smilingly,
“It is lucky the inspector did not arrest you, my dear.”
“Why, what do you mean?” she demanded.
“Simply that this officer, according to his own account, was charged to watch over and protect your devoted servant, and in the exercise of his functions he was good enough to hint to me that you were a suspicious character, of whom I should do well to be on my guard.”
“Infamous! The wretch! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I promised the fellow not to. He was afraid of getting into trouble, and as he had only blundered out of zeal, I let him off.”
“And he has left the train. Why, I wonder?”
“I ordered him to.”
The Princess Y—— looked less and less pleased.A minute later, I caught her stealthily glancing in my direction, and realized that her keen wits were already at work, connecting my appearance on the scene with the disappearance of the inspector.
The next day, Colonel Menken and his betrothed took their seats at a different table in the restaurant of the train.
I saw the meaning of this maneuver. It was of course a test by which the Princess Y—— sought to learn if I was a spy, appointed to replace the inspector. I took care not to assist her by following them to the new table; on the contrary, I refused the offer of my brother waiter, who was honest enough not to wish to take my tips from me.
When we reached Irkutsk, I had another proof that the Princess was beginning to feel uneasy. Marie informed me that her mistress had ordered her to go into the town and send off a telegram, as she would not trust the railway officials.
The message, which my ally faithfully reported to me, was addressed to Petrovitch himself and ran as follows:
Received wire from you at Moscow reporting our friend ill, and telling me not to wire you again till my return. I now fear some mistake. All going well otherwise.
Received wire from you at Moscow reporting our friend ill, and telling me not to wire you again till my return. I now fear some mistake. All going well otherwise.
We were carried across the frozen Baikal amid a furious snowstorm. Huddled up in thick furs, and fighting to keep our blood circulating under the leadenpressure of the cruel frost, there was no time to think of conspiracies.
But on resuming the journey on the other side of the lake, I saw that the cunning agent of the War Party was maturing some decisive attempt on the messenger of peace. The talks of the lovers became closer and more confidential, the manner of Colonel Menken grew daily more devoted and absorbed, and Marie described her mistress as laboring under an extraordinary excitement.
At last, on the very day the train crossed the Chinese frontier on the way to Mukden, Marie came to me with a decisive report.
“Sophy has won!” she declared. “I overheard them talking again last night. Ever since they left Tomsk they have been having a dispute, Sophy declaring that the Colonel did not love her, because he suspected her, and he, the stupid creature, swearing that he trusted her entirely. It appears she had got out of him that he was carrying a paper of some kind, and so she said that unless he gave her this paper to keep till they reached Dalny or Port Arthur, she would not believe in him, nor have anything more to say to him.
“In the end, she was too many for him. Last night he gave her the paper in a sealed envelope, and I saw her take it from her breast before she undressed last night.”
“Where is it? What has she done with it?” I demanded anxiously.
“I can’t tell you that. She had it in her hand when she dismissed me for the night. It looked to me as though she meant to break the seal and read it.”
Full of the gravest forebodings, I hurried to the rear of the train, got out my inspector’s uniform, though without effecting any change in my facial appearance, and made my way to the smoking-car.
Colonel Menken, who had just finished breakfast, was settling himself down to a cigar and an illustrated magazine.
He gazed up at me in astonishment, as he perceived the change in my costume.
“So the Princess was right!” he exclaimed angrily. “You are another policeman.”
I bowed.
“And charged, like the last, to protect me from my cousin and future wife!”
“From the person who has robbed you of the Czar’s autograph letter to the Emperor of Japan, yes!”
Menken recoiled, thunderstruck.
“You knew what I was carrying?”
“As well as I know the contents of the telegram which the Princess sent from Irkutsk to the head of the Manchurian Syndicate—the man who has sworn that the Czar’s letter shall never be delivered.”
Colonel Menken staggered to his feet, bewildered, angry, half induced to threaten, and half to yield.
“You must be lying! Sophy never left my sight while we were at Irkutsk!”
“We can discuss that later. Will you, or will you not, reclaim his majesty’s letter—the letter entrusted to your honor?”
Menken turned white.
“I—I will approach the Princess,” he stammered, obviously divided between fear of losing her, and dread of myself and any action I might take.
“That will not do for me,” I said sternly. “I can only make you this offer: Come with me at once to this lady’s sleeping berth and regain the despatch, and I will agree to say no more about it; refuse, and I shall report the whole affair to his majesty personally.”
“Who are you?” inquired the dismayed man.
“That is of no consequence. You see my uniform—let that be enough for you.”
He staggered down the car. I followed, and we reached the car where the Princess was at the moment engaged, with Marie’s aid, in putting the last touches to her toilet.
She looked up at our appearance, gave an interrogative glance first at Menken and then, at me, and evidently made up her mind.
“What is it, gentlemen?”
“The—the paper I gave—that you offered to—that—in short, I want it immediately,” faltered my companion.
“I have no paper of yours, and I do not know what you are talking about, my friend,” said the PrincessY——with the calmest air in the world.
Menken uttered a cry of despair.
“The letter, the letter I gave you last night—it was a letter from the Czar,” he exclaimed feebly.
“I think you must have dreamed it,” said the Princess with extreme composure. “Marie, have you seen any letter about?”
“No, your highness,” returned the servant submissively.
“If you think there is anything here, you are welcome to look,” her mistress added with a pleasant smile. “As for me, I never keep letters, my own or anybody else’s.I always tear them up.”
And with these words, and another smile and a nod, she stepped gracefully past us, and went to take her seat in the part of the train reserved for ladies.
Somewhere, doubtless, on the white Manchurian plain we had crossed in the night, the fragments of the imperial peacemaker’s letter were being scattered by the wind.
Menken’s face had changed utterly in the last minute. He resembled an elderly man.
“Tell the Czar that I alone am to blame,” were his last words.
Before I could prevent him, he had drawn a revolver from his pocket, and put two bullets through his head.
A
Aweek later, that is to say, on the 8th of February, 1904, I was in Tokio.
The behavior of the Princess Y—— on hearing of the death of her victim had been a strange mixture of heartlessness and hysterical remorse.
At the first sound of the fatal shots, she came rushing to the scene of the tragedy, and cast herself on the floor of the corridor beside the dead man, seizing his hands, crying his name aloud, and weeping frantically.
When I tried to raise her, so that the body might be removed, she turned on me fiercely.
“This is your fault!” she cried. “Who are you, and how dared you interfere with me?”
“As you see by my uniform, I am an inspector of police attached to the Third Section.”
She gazed at me searchingly for a moment, and then, lowering her voice, and bringing her lips to my ear, she said with intense energy:
“It is a lie. I am here by the orders of the Minister himself, as you must know well. You are acting against us, whoever you are.”
“I am acting by order of the Czar,” I responded.
She smiled scornfully.
“I expect that is another lie. You could not have got so far as you have unless you had some one else behind you. Poor Nicholas!—Every one knows what he is, and that he has less power than any other man in Russia. Are you Witte’s man, I wonder?”
“You are a bold woman to question me,” I said. “How do you know that I am not going to arrest you for stealing and destroying the Czar’s letter?”
“I should not remain long under arrest,” was the significant answer. She gave me another searching look, and muttered to herself, “If I did not know that he was safe in the hands of my friends in Petersburg I should think you must be a certain Monsieur ——”
She broke off without pronouncing my name, and turned away.
At Mukden, the next stopping place, the Princess Y—— left the train, no doubt intending to travel back to Russia and report her success.
In the meantime, I had reason to think she had notified her friends in Manchuria to keep an eye on me.
All the way to Dalny I felt by that instinct whichbecomes second nature to a man of my profession that I was under surveillance. I detected a change in the manner of my friend the train superintendent. My trifling luggage was carefully searched. In the night when I was asleep some one went through my pockets. I was able to see that even the contents of my cigarette case, which I had not opened since leaving Petersburg, had been turned out and put back again.
As the train neared Dalny I began to feel a little nervous. I had a dread of being stopped on my way to embark on board the steampacket which was still running to Tokio.
The train drew up at last, at the end of its five-thousand-mile-run, and I stepped off it to the platform, carrying my valise in my hand.
The platform was literally swarming with spies, as it was easy for a man of my experience to detect. I walked calmly through them to the cab-stand, and hailed a droshky.
The driver, before starting off, exchanged a signal almost openly with a stout man in plain clothes, who dogged me from the railway carriage.
Presently I sighted the steamer, alongside the principal wharf, with the smoke pouring out of its funnel, all ready to start.
The cabman whipped his horse and drove straight past the steamer.
“Where are you going?” I shouted.
“To the Custom House first; it is the regulation,” was the answer.
Taking out my long neglected case, I placed a cigarette between my lips, and asked the driver for some matches.
He passed me a wooden box. I struck several, but each went out in the high wind before igniting the tobacco.
I was making another attempt as the droshky drew up outside the steps of the Custom House. I dismounted negligently, while one of the officials came and clutched my luggage. Then I walked slowly up the steps, pausing in the porch to strike a fresh match.
A porter snatched the box from my hand. “Smoking is forbidden,” he said roughly. “Wait till you are out again.”
I shrugged my shoulders, pinched the burning end of the cigarette, which I retained in my mouth, and sauntered with an air of supreme indifference after the man who was carrying my bag.
He led me into a room in which a severe-looking official was seated at a desk.
“Your papers,” he demanded.
I produced the papers with which I had been furnished by Rostoy.
The customs official scrutinized them, evidently in the hope of discovering some flaw.
“On what business are you going to Tokio?” he demanded.
I smiled.
“Since when have the police of the Third Section been obliged to render an account of themselves to the officers of the customs?” I asked defiantly.
“How do I know that you are not a Japanese spy?”
I laughed heartily.
“You must be mad. How do I know that you are not a Nihilist?” I retorted.
The customs officer turned pale. I saw that my chance shot had gone home. The Russian imperial services are honeycombed by revolutionary intrigues.
“Well, I shall detain your luggage for examination,” he declared.
This time I pretended the greatest agitation. Of course, the more I resisted the more he insisted. In the end he allowed me to depart without my person being searched. The fact is I had convinced him that he held an important prize in my worthless valise.
I was just in time to catch the steamer. As I crossed the gangway, a man dressed like a coal-trimmer turned on me a last careful scrutiny, and remarked,
“Your cigarette has gone out, Mister.”
“Can you give me a light? Thank you!” I struck a match, drew a puff of smoke, and handed him backthe box. Then I walked on board, the gangway was drawn in, and the Japanese steamer headed out to the open sea.
On reaching Tokio I experienced some difficulty in obtaining an audience of the Japanese ruler.
I was obliged to announce my name. It will hardly be believed, but the chamberlain whom I had entrusted with the important secret, brought back the answer that the Mikado had never heard of me!
“Tell his imperial majesty that there is no monarch of Europe, and only two of Asia, who could say the same. I am here as the confidential plenipotentiary of the Czar, with an autograph letter addressed to the Mikado, and I respectfully ask leave to present it in person.”
Such a demand of course could not be refused. But even now the haughty Japanese did not receive me in the privacy of his own cabinet. On the contrary, I found myself introduced into the State Council-Room, in which his majesty was seated at a table surrounded by his chief advisers.
In particular I remarked the venerable Yamagata, conqueror of China, and the round bullet-head of Oyama, the future overthrower of Kuropatkin.
On the table was spread out a large map, or rather plan, of the entire theater of war, including Manchuria, Korea, Japan and the seas between. A man innaval uniform was standing beside the imperial chair, with an expectant look on his face.
All eyes were turned upon me at my entrance. The Mikado beckoned to me to approach him.
“Is it true that you bring me a letter from the Russian Emperor?” he asked abruptly. “We have received information that such a letter was on its way, but that the bearer was murdered on the Manchurian railway four days ago.”
“Your majesty’s information is substantially correct,” I answered. “The messenger, a Colonel Menken, was seduced into parting with his despatch, and committed suicide in consequence.”
“Well, and what about yourself?”
“Foreseeing that the unscrupulous men who have been trying to force on a war between his Russian majesty and your majesty would leave no stone unturned to intercept this despatch, the Czar wrote a duplicate with his own hand, which he entrusted to me, in the hope that I might baffle the conspirators.”
“Where is it?”
“I endeavored to conceal it by unstitching the front of the shirt I am wearing, and sewing it up between the folds.
“Unfortunately I was drugged at a dinner party in Petersburg just before starting. I was unconscious for an hour and a half, and I fear that the opponents of peace have taken advantage of the opportunityto find and rob me of the letter. But I will see, with your majesty’s permission.”
The Mikado made no answer. Amid a breathless silence, with all the room watching my movements, I tore open my shirt-front and extracted a paper.
It was blank.
“So,” commented the Japanese Emperor, sternly, “you have no such credentials as you boasted of having.”
“Pardon me, sire. Anticipating that the War Party would suspect the object of my mission, and would resort to some such step to defeat it, I purposely provided them with a document to steal, believing that when they had robbed me of it they would allow me to proceed unmolested. My real credentials are here.”
I drew out my cigarette case, found the partially smoked cigarette I had had in my mouth when I ran the gauntlet of the spies at Dalny, and proceeded to cut off the paper. On the inner surface these words were written in the hand of the Czar: