As the party passed in through the principal entrance of the stately
building, laughing and chatting animatedly together upon the
possibilities of the forthcoming expedition, a footman came forward and
announced that a young lady, who most urgently desired to see Professor
von Schalckenberg, had been waiting for fully an hour in the library, to
which apartment she had been conducted.
The professor looked momentarily surprised and disconcerted by this
intelligence; but, quickly recovering himself, and excusing himself to
Lady Olivia, he hurried away to the library, to see who this unexpected
visitor might be.
Entering the apartment, von Schalckenberg at once found himself
confronted with a singularly handsome young woman, closely veiled, and
quietly but richly attired, who, throwing back her veil and stretching
forth both hands in eager, joyous greeting, exclaimed in Russian--
"At last, Professor, at last I have found you, thank God!"
"What?" stammered the professor, as he gazed in astonishment at his
lovely visitor, holding both her hands in his meanwhile. "Can it be
possible that this is my dear little friend Feodorovna Sziszkinski?
Ach! yes, it must be; there can be no mistaking that charming face!"
And he forthwith kissed his fair visitor on both cheeks, in true
continental fashion. "Welcome, my dear child, welcome a thousand times
to England," continued the professor, beaming benignantly at his visitor
through his spectacles. "And how is your father and my dear friend, the
colonel?"
"Ah, Professor, would that I knew!" answered the girl, as tears sprang
to her eyes. "I fear the worst for him. I am in bitter trouble about
him; and it is on that account that I have sought you. My father had a
foreboding that trouble was in store for us, and only a few weeks ago he
said to me, `Child, if anything should happen to me, and you are plunged
into trouble or difficulty, seek out our dear friend, von Schalckenberg.
He will help you, if any man can.'"
"Of course, of course," answered the professor, beaming more
benevolently still, if that were possible, upon his visitor. "Your
father and I are old, staunch, and tried friends; and he does me no more
than justice in feeling that he, or his daughter, may absolutely rely
upon me to do gladly the utmost in my power for either of them. Now,
sit down, little Feodorovna, and tell me all about it."
The girl, with a sigh of relief and renewed hope, sank into the chair
that the professor placed for her, and began by asking--
"Did you ever, while in Saint Petersburg or elsewhere, meet a certain
Count Vasilovich, Professor?"
"Often, my dear; much more often, indeed, than I at all desired,"
answered the professor.
"He is a bad man, Feodorovna; a thorough-going scoundrel, without a
single redeeming trait. Has he anything to do with your trouble?"
"Alas, yes! he has everything to do with it, dear friend," answered
Feodorovna. "It was my misfortune to meet him last winter at a ball at
the Imperial Palace, and from that moment he began persistently to press
his odious attentions upon me. My dear father saw, with the utmost
alarm, the unfortunate turn that affairs had taken, and warned me
against the count. Not that any warning was necessary, for I seemed so
clearly to divine the nature and character of the man at a glance, that
nothing would have induced me to afford him the slightest encouragement.
"For a time the count contented himself with following me everywhere,
and making violent love to me upon every possible occasion; but at
length, about two months ago, finding that his attentions were so
clearly distasteful to me that there was no prospect whatever of his
suit being successful, he began to threaten--vague, covert threats at
first, but afterwards so outspoken that I felt I must fly from Saint
Petersburg, and seek safety in concealment. I spoke to my dear father
about it, and he--distressed as he was at the prospect of being
compelled to part with me--agreed that my only hope of safety lay in
flight; and twenty-four hours later I was, as I hoped, safe in the house
of a friend at Boroviezi. But on the day following my arrival at this
refuge, one of my father's servants, named Petrovich, appeared with the
information that on the night of my flight from Saint Petersburg, a
domiciliary visit had been paid by the police to our house, and my
father had been dragged off to the fortress prison of Peter and Paul,
and that search was everywhere being made for me.
"I had not the least doubt that this was the work of Count Vasilovich;
but, feeling myself to be quite safe where I was, and knowing the
count's power and influence at the palace, my whole anxiety was on my
father's account, for Vasilovich is not only unscrupulous, he is
mercilessly vindictive, and I feared that, finding himself baulked in
his desire to get me into his power, he would wreak his vengeance on my
father. And, oh, Professor, my fears proved to be but too well founded;
for, five days later, Petrovich appeared again with the information that
my father had been convicted of high treason, and was even then being
hurried away south to Odessa, at which port he was to be placed, with a
large number of other unfortunates, on board a convict-ship for
transportation to Sakhalien.
"Oh, my friend, I cannot describe to you the depth of my despair at this
intelligence, which I soon learned was only too true. In my desperation
I would have returned to Saint Petersburg, sought out the count, and
consented to marry him upon condition of his saving my dear father. But
my friends denounced such a scheme as utter madness, and would not hear
of it; they asserted that the count, having gone to such extremes, would
not now be at all likely to undo his own work--even if that were
possible--and that if I were so imprudent as to enter into negotiations
with him, he would soon find the means to get me into his power and at
his mercy; while, my father having been convicted of high treason, the
whole of his property would certainly be confiscated, and what I had
always regarded as the count's chief reason for desiring to marry me--
namely, the command of the wealth which I should inherit from my
father--would no longer exist.
"These arguments prevailed with me, and I abandoned the mad idea of
appealing to Vasilovich; but I was in despair for my dear father, until
in a happy moment I remembered the words that he had spoken to me about
you only a short time before this dreadful misfortune befell us; then I
felt that, if I could but find you, something might yet be done. I
spoke to my friends about it, and they approved of my proposal to seek
you. But when I mentioned that it would be necessary for me to come to
England in search of you, another difficulty arose. Count Vasilovich
had no doubt already anticipated and provided against the possibility
that I might endeavour to leave Russia; and to make the attempt openly
would but too surely result in my falling into his power. But my
friends were very, very kind to me; they were determined that I should
escape, and at length they were fortunate enough to find a lady who was
about to travel from Saint Petersburg to London, and who consented to
bring me with her as her maid. In this way all difficulties were
overcome; and yesterday I arrived safely in London, and at once went to
the address that my father had given me when he spoke of the possibility
of your being able to help me, should trouble come upon us. I had some
difficulty in finding the place--being a stranger in London--and when I
did so it was only to learn that you had last been heard of as being
here; so I determined to follow you at once, taking the midnight train
from London, and staying in the village only long enough to get some
lunch--of which I stood sadly in need--before driving over here. And,
thank God, I have been fortunate enough to find you!"
"Ah, thank God, indeed, my dear child," echoed the professor, "for I
assure you it is only by a combination of the most trifling
circumstances that I did not leave here yesterday; in which case further
pursuit of me would have been equally useless and impossible. But never
mind that, now; `all is well that ends well,' as they say here in
England; you have found me, and that is enough for the present. Now,
tell me, are you absolutely certain of the accuracy of Petrovich's
information as to your father being _en route_ for Sakhalien?"
"Oh yes," answered Feodorovna; "there is, unfortunately, no room for
doubt as to that. The son of one of the under-gaolers at Peter and Paul
happen to be affianced to Petrovich's sister, and it was through this
man that Petrovich obtained the information."
"Just so," assented the professor. "And in any case," he added, "I
suppose Vasilovich would be certain to possess full and perfectly
accurate information as to the whereabouts and ultimate destination of
your father?"
"Oh yes," answered Feodorovna, "he would be sure to know everything.
But I do not see how that fact is to help us; because, you see, dear
friend, we have no power to compel him to reveal what he knows."
"Have we not?" retorted the professor, good-humouredly. "Ah, well, we
shall see; we shall see! Meanwhile, patience and courage, little one; I
think I can already see my way to the bringing of this business to a
satisfactory conclusion. And now, come with me, and let me introduce
you to a very dear and gentle lady friend of mine; and, later, to three
men friends--who will not only listen to your story with the most
sympathetic interest, but will also--unless I am vastly mistaken--assist
me to right effectually the wrong that has been done to your father and
my friend, Colonel Sziszkinski."
So saying, the professor conducted his young Russian friend to Lady
Elphinstone's boudoir, where, having craved permission to enter, he
forthwith introduced his _protegee_ to his hostess, and briefly
recapitulated the story of wrong to which he had so recently listened.
Lady Olivia listened with deep sympathy to the story, and at its
conclusion, said--
"Of course, my dear Professor, there can be no question as to what you
ought to do; if you really have the power to help your friend, this poor
girl's father, in his present terrible situation, you must go to his
assistance, regardless of everything else, and we must manage as best we
can without you. We shall heartily wish you the most complete success
in your arduous undertaking, but we shall miss you dreadfully; and your
absence will be a terrible disappointment to us all."
"Ah, dear lady, you will completely spoil me if you talk like that,"
protested the professor. "But," he continued, "as to my leaving you, I
do not contemplate any such step; indeed, it is only by remaining with
you, and by virtue of the assistance of your good husband and the
others, that I hope to be of any real assistance to my friend. My idea
is this. If you all consent, we will, in the first place, go to Saint
Petersburg in the _Flying Fish_, seize Count Vasilovich--I know his
chateau well, and I already have a plan whereby we can obtain possession
of his person without any one being the wiser--and compel him to
disclose everything that he knows respecting the colonel. Then, armed
with this information, we can easily follow and overtake the
convict-ship, rescue my friend from his gaolers, give them Vasilovich in
his place, and--_voila tout_!"
"That seems simple enough, so far as my limited understanding of such
matters will permit me to judge, and I have not the least doubt that,
when you have laid the facts before Sir Reginald and the other members
of the party, they will one and all help you to the utmost extent of
their ability," answered Lady Olivia. "Meanwhile, my dear child," she
continued, turning to Feodorovna, "since we seem to be about to attempt
the rescue of your unhappy father, you must do us the favour to become
our guest on board the _Flying Fish_ during the progress of the
adventure. You will naturally be anxious to know what is happening, and
you can only possess that knowledge by becoming one of our party. Did
you bring any baggage with you from London?"
"I brought a small portmanteau, so that I might be prepared for any
emergency; but I left it at the village inn," answered Feodorovna,
hesitatingly.
"Very well," said Lady Olivia, "then you had better send for it at once.
The fly that brought you over is still waiting, I see; so you can give
the driver a note to Collins, the landlord, informing him that you are
staying here, and asking him to send over your baggage forthwith."
Gratefully accepting Lady Elphinstone's invitation, the young Russian
lost no time in penning the suggested note to the landlord; and then, as
the first dinner bell had already rung, the trio separated to dress, a
maid conducting the new guest to a room, and assisting her to prepare
herself, as far as was possible, for the impending function.
When, about twenty minutes later, the party re-united in the
drawing-room, Feodorovna--introduced to Sir Reginald, Colonel
Lethbridge, and Captain Mildmay by Lady Elphinstone, who had made a
point of being down early to receive her--created quite a little
sensation by her refined and delicate loveliness, and her perfect yet
unaffected manner; and when they were given to understand by Lady
Elphinstone that the unexpected guest had a tale to unfold that would
enlist their deepest sympathy, they were all impatience to get through
the ordeal of dinner, so that they might be free to listen undisturbed
to the story. Sir Reginald, of course, took the young stranger in to
dinner, and soon contrived, by the polished courtesy and gentle
kindliness of his manner, to win her entire confidence. The gentlemen
that night sat over their wine only long enough to enable them to smoke
a single cigarette each, and then hastened to the drawing-room, where
they listened with breathless interest to the story, as told by von
Schalckenberg, of Colonel Sziszkinski's wrongs; and when the history had
come to an end, they were unanimous in their conviction that there was
but one thing to be done--namely, to carry out the professor's scheme
without a moment's unnecessary delay, especially as von Schalckenberg,
in reply to a delicately veiled question by Lethbridge, declared himself
ready to stake his life upon Colonel Sziszkinski's absolute loyalty and
fidelity to the Tsar.
"But, of course," continued the professor, "loyalty and fidelity are not
allowed to count in Russia; while Justice finds but few worshippers, at
least among the nobility. There exists an unwritten law among the
Russian nobles that they, as a class, are to stand by each other through
thick and thin, under all circumstances and conditions, quite
irrespective of any considerations as to what may be right or just;
hence the stubborn tenacity with which Nihilism maintains its grip upon
the middle and lower classes. If the `Little Father' wishes to stamp
out that terrible scourge of secret and deadly conspiracy which is the
bane and menace of his existence, he must purge the Russian nobles of
their present lust of cruelty and oppression, and must render it
possible for every one of his subjects, from the highest to the lowest,
to obtain absolute justice. When he has accomplished _this_ herculean
task, he may go where he will, unarmed, unguarded, and unhurt; but not
until then."
"Meanwhile," remarked Sir Reginald, "until the consummation of that
much-to-be-desired reform, wrong must either remain unrighted, or be
righted by the only process which appears to be possible in `Holy
Russia'--namely, a resort to physical force. And so, my dear young
lady," he continued laughingly, addressing himself to Feodorovna, "we
three respectable and responsible Englishmen--to say nothing of our
amiable friend, the professor, there--are about to become abductors and
pirates, on behalf of your father--since there seems to be no help for
it. But do not let that very trivial circumstance distress you in the
least; we mean to deliver your father; and when we make up our minds to
do a thing, we generally do it. And now, Professor, as to details. If
I understand your scheme aright, our first step must be to kidnap your
very estimable friend, Count Vasilovich?"
"Ach! do not call him my friend; he is no friend of mine!" exclaimed the
professor, with such indignant energy as to provoke the whole party to
hearty laughter, at which the worthy man first stared at them in
amazement, and then, perceiving that he had allowed himself to be
"drawn," joined heartily in the laugh against himself. "Yes," he
continued, suddenly becoming grave again, "we must kidnap the count, for
two reasons; first, because it is necessary that we should obtain the
fullest and most complete information as to Colonel Sziszkinski's
whereabouts and movements; and, secondly, because it would not satisfy
me merely to release my friend. He has been beggared, rendered an
outlaw in his own country--to which it will be impossible for him ever
to return--and his career destroyed by this unscrupulous scoundrel,
Vasilovich; and justice cries aloud for the punishment of such
wickedness; therefore Vasilovich must be punished. Moreover, the
mysterious fate which I have in store for him may possibly exercise a
salutary influence upon such of his fellow scoundrels as happen to be
aware of the wrong that he has wrought upon poor Sziszkinski; for I will
make it a part of my business to leave behind me a statement to the
effect that Count Vasilovich has been `removed' as a punishment for his
conduct to Colonel Sziszkinski."
"That is all right; such a statement _may_ do good, while I cannot see
that it is likely to do any harm, so we will prepare a conspicuous
placard, worded to that effect, and will place it where it is certain
that it will be found," remarked Sir Reginald, cheerfully. "There is
one point, however, upon which I should like a little enlightenment,
Professor; and that is as to the course you propose to pursue in order
to obtain possession of Vasilovich's person in this awe-inspiringly
secret fashion."
"I do not anticipate much difficulty as to that," answered the
professor. "When I was in Saint Petersburg a year ago, Vasilovich held
a post of responsibility at the War Office, and it was his habit to ride
into Saint Petersburg from his chateau at Pargolovo in the morning, and
out again at night, arriving home about seven o'clock, in time for
dinner at eight. And I imagine we shall find that he does so still.
The chateau stands in a park of considerable extent, and is approached
by a drive nearly a mile and a half long, up which Vasilovich usually
rides at a foot-pace. Now, at this time of the year, it will be quite
dark in the park at seven o'clock, and nobody will then be likely to be
out about the demesne. I know the place well, and happen to be aware of
a spot, about midway between the chateau and the lodge gates, where the
_Flying Fish_ can be effectually concealed for the moment, close to the
road, and near which it will be easy for us to secure our man and convey
him on board the flying ship, where we will simply put him in irons and
lock him up in the tank room; he will be perfectly safe there, without
the power to do the slightest harm."
"And, having got him, how do you purpose to make him speak, Professor?"
demanded Mildmay.
"I shall simply tell him what information it is that I require of him;
and if he evinces any disinclination to speak, I shall add that he will
be kept without food or drink until he communicates it," placidly
answered the professor.
"And supposing that he should tell you a pack of lies?" suggested
Lethbridge.
"Oh, he will not do that, I think," replied von Schalckenberg. "He is a
cruel, unscrupulous, and absolutely selfish man, but, if I have read his
character aright, we shall also find that he is far too much of a coward
to attempt to deceive us."
"But what if he should?" persisted the colonel.
"In that case, as soon as I make the discovery that he has deceived me,
I shall tell him that he will be kept without food or drink until
Colonel Sziszkinski has been found and is actually in our hands,"
answered the professor, triumphantly.
"It appears to me," remarked Mildmay, reflectively, "that unless Count
Vasilovich keeps his weather eye lifting, there is rather a rough time
ahead of him."
"There is, in any case," observed von Schalckenberg, "but it will be no
part of my plan to tell him so until I have obtained from him all the
information that I require."
"Well," said Sir Reginald, "having secured our man, and compelled him to
divulge all the information we require of him, what will be our next
step?"
"We shall proceed forthwith to Odessa, and ascertain, first of all,
whether the convict-ship has sailed," answered the professor. "If she
has not, I shall make it my business to see her, and to take such
particular notice of her name and appearance that I may be able to
identify her again at sight; but if, as I anticipate, she has sailed, I
shall find out, if possible, the date of her sailing, her name, rig,
tonnage, and any other particulars that will help us to recognise her
when we see her. If she has not sailed, it will be necessary for us to
lie in wait for her either in the Black Sea or wherever else may be
deemed a suitable spot at which to effect her capture; while, if she has
sailed, we shall simply go in pursuit of her."