Weary and worn with his long journey, Nello dismounted at the little
wayside station about thirty miles from St. Petersburg. All passengers
were peremptorily ordered to alight. Presently he learned that there
had been a slight railway accident in front, and that he might have to
wait two or three hours before he could get on to the capital.
He walked in the direction of the little village. There was evidently
a great stir taking place in this ordinarily quiet neighbourhood.
Mounted soldiers were drawn up before the old posting-inn.
Nello happened to get hold of a man who could speak a little French,
in a halting, but intelligent way.
"Quite a commotion for such a tranquil spot. What is it that is on the
_tapis_?" inquired Corsini.
The man explained in his slow French. "Something out of the usual,
Monsieur. Have you ever heard of a terrible fellow, one Ivan,
nicknamed 'The Cuckoo'?"
No, Nello had never heard of him. "Is he a very formidable personage
this 'Ivan the Cuckoo,' then?"
The man explained elaborately that Ivan was a much-feared outlaw, that
he was in the vicinity with a gang of desperadoes and assassins. He
was a convict who had escaped from the mines of Siberia, and had
gathered round him a band of miscreants as desperate as himself, and
as careless of consequences. They had lived by preying on the peasants
and stray travellers.
"The police are endeavouring to block the roads, so that, in
desperation, he and his associates may be driven into the village and
captured," concluded the man who had volunteered the explanation in
his halting French.
Corsini thanked him, and strolled along down the straggling village
street. What was he to do till the railway service was restored? The
village inn was open, where, if he pleased, he could go and saturate
himself with vodka or some other potent spirit; but the young man had
the abstemiousness of the Latin races. He did not want to amuse
himself in this fashion.
He would take a little stroll. Occupied with his own thoughts of the
life and reception awaiting him in St. Petersburg, with those powerful
introductions from the influential Salmoros, he did not think of the
risk he was running in wandering away from the protected precincts of
the quiet village, guarded as it was by those stout mounted soldiers.
Ivan and his band were lurking about somewhere, ready to pounce on the
unwary traveller.
After a few minutes' slow walk, he came to a roadside ikon.
Mechanically he stopped and crossed himself. He was a man of deeply
religious feeling, and he fancied he had been blessed with a good omen
on his entrance into this strange country. A few prayers to the
Blessed Virgin and he would be sheltered from all harm.
Hardly had his lips ceased moving in reverent supplication, when he
was aware of a strange presence. A tall, bearded man emerged from the
semi-gloom and held out his hands with an imploring gesture.
"Save me for the sake of her whom we both reverence," he cried. He
spoke, like the last man who had addressed Nello, in lame and halting
French. He had evidently appreciated the fact that Corsini was not a
fellow-countryman.
Corsini started back and his hand stole to his hip pocket, from which
he produced a very serviceable revolver, which he levelled straight at
the intruder.
"Who and what are you?" he cried loudly, with a resolution he was far
from feeling. This rough, unkempt man looked as if he was possessed of
giant strength. If it had come to a hand-to-hand tussle, he could have
broken the slim young Italian in two. But Nello would not let it come
to that. He kept his pistol well levelled at the stranger's head. The
least movement and he would fire.
"Save me for her sake, for the sake of the Virgin," pleaded the man in
despairing accents. "You are not an outlaw like me; you have not been
through what I have. I trust you, for a man who says his prayers with
the devotion you do--I watched you behind the trees--would never
betray his hunted fellow-creatures."
And then a light came suddenly to Corsini, standing there, armed with
that eloquent pistol.
"You speak of yourself as an outlaw. I have just come from the little
village yonder, which is in a state of commotion with mounted
soldiers. They are looking for an outlaw, a convict escaped from the
mines of Siberia. I am right in saying that you are 'Ivan the Cuckoo.'
Where is your band of assassins and robbers who prey upon the
travellers and peasants?"
The miserable man fell at his feet. Nello, in the dim light, saw that
his face had gone livid.
"You have guessed, Monsieur. It is true. I am Ivan the outlaw. You
cannot appreciate the misery that drove me to this."
In a dim sort of way Nello understood. This man was an outlaw. Was it
not just a chance that he was not one himself? Many a night, as he had
played in the cold streets for a few miserable pence, he had passed
the flaring restaurants, the well-lighted shops, their windows full of
precious things to be coveted by the poor and hungry. He could not
deny that many a time he had railed at the world's injustice, that
criminal thoughts had surged through his half-maddened brain.
He thought of the saying of the old Quaker, whenever he heard of a
criminal on the road to death. "There, but for the grace of God, goes
myself."
Yes, but for the sudden intervention in the shape of good old Papa
Peron, he might have drifted into evil courses like the wretched
creature grovelling at his feet. It was not for him to judge.
He looked at him steadily, still keeping the pistol levelled at the
vital part, and repeated his question.
"What has become of your band of robbers and assassins?" he asked
sternly.
"Dispersed, Monsieur--dispersed, I give you my word. Yesterday we
learned that the soldiers and police were on our track, were preparing
to draw a cordon round us. It was a case of _sauve qui peut_, devil
take the hindmost. We agreed to separate. There were not more than
half a dozen of us, but our numbers have been exaggerated. We all
scattered in different directions. Somehow, I stumbled up here, and
you tell me the little village is astir."
"What is it you want of me?"
"Just a little money, Monsieur; just a little money to help me on my
way to St. Petersburg, where I shall find friends."
Nello looked at him suspiciously. "But why do you want money? It was
only yesterday that you heard the police were closing round you. You
have been robbing as you go. When you agreed to separate, no doubt you
divided the ready money."
"That is true, Monsieur; you are very clever," replied the grovelling
man in a fawning voice. "You will hardly believe me when I tell you,
but I swear it is true. Last night I slept in a little inn a few miles
from here. I had drunk heavily, I admit; I slept very soundly. When I
awoke in the morning every coin I possessed had been stolen from my
pockets. I, an old hand, blush to tell you, Monsieur; but I, who have
robbed so many, was robbed myself."
"Do you suspect anybody?" was Nello's next question.
The man uttered a fierce imprecation. "Yes, I do; I suspect one of my
so-called pals. As captain I took the biggest share when we agreed to
separate. I caught his eye fixed upon me with a very sinister look. My
theory is that he followed me at a safe distance and saw where I was
lodged. He was well aware of my habits; he knew I should be pretty
fast asleep. He climbed up through the window, Monsieur, and took
every copper. I was too drunk to hear him. If I had been in my sober
senses, I would have strangled him, and added one more crime to the
many committed by Ivan the outlaw." He ended with a defiant grin, that
showed a row of strong white wolfish teeth.
Nello mused for a little space. The man might be speaking truth; he
was half disposed to think so. On the other hand, he might be telling
him a tissue of lies.
"Why are you not armed?" he asked suddenly.
"I have a pistol, Monsieur, but it is empty. I could find no place in
which to buy cartridges. See for yourself."
He fumbled in his pocket and threw down the weapon on the ground.
Nello picked it up cautiously; it was, as its owner had truly
declared, harmless.
A grim smile crossed the young man's countenance, but he did not for a
second relax his vigilance. This ruffian of the highway was, no doubt,
as cunning as he was plausible.
"If your pistol had been loaded, I expect you would have extorted
money from me instead of begging it."
Ivan the outlaw shook his big head. "Under ordinary circumstances,
yes, Monsieur. Adversity has taught me not to stand upon ceremony. But
when I saw your lips moving in prayer before the ikon, I would not
have harmed a hair of your head. You would have been sacred."
Truly a strange being, imbued with the ever-present superstition of
the Russian peasant, thought Nello to himself.
"And you want money from me. Of course you know what my duty is, as a
peaceable man who has no sympathy with robbers and assassins?"
"Certainly, Monsieur. If you don't choose to shoot me in a vital
spot and so insure my death, you ought to maim me to prevent me from
moving, leave me here and go and fetch the police from the village
to take me into custody." The man had spoken so far in a low,
imperturbable voice; then at the end he lashed himself into sudden
fury and shrieked out.
"It's a toss of a copper to me what you do. But if you won't give me
any money, kill me outright. I have not made such a success of life
that I am anxious to enjoy much more of it. Kill me, Monsieur, and
finish it once for all. The police will thank you for having got rid
of 'Ivan the Cuckoo.' They won't ask too many questions."
Nello thought for some little time. His thoughts went back to a very
miserable night, some six months ago. He had been playing in the
streets and had returned home with nothing. He owed the rent for the
miserable hovel in which they sheltered; they had no food.
He had looked his sister squarely in the face and had whispered the
question--"Is life worth living, Anita, under such conditions?" She
had returned his gaze with a face as white as his own, but she had not
faltered, as she replied, "Nello, I leave it in your hands." And,
thank Heaven, he had conquered that terrible fit of despair, to find,
later on, a new world opening to him.
He handed the wretched man a sum of money and spoke in very gentle
tones.
"God be good to you, my poor friend, and soften your heart. I know not
if the world has been too harsh to you, or you have too grievously
offended the world. Go in peace. I am not your judge, and I will not
be your executioner."
With a brief blessing, the outlaw took the money and slunk away in the
gathering darkness.
"I shall remember your face for ever," he whispered in farewell. "It
is not likely we shall ever meet again. But if we do and I can repay
my debt, I will, and with interest."
A few hours later Nello was in St. Petersburg. He put up at one of the
best hotels in the city, acting upon the instructions of Salmoros.
That gentleman had urged upon him the necessity of keeping up a good
appearance, and spending money lavishly, at any rate for the present.
That night he had confused dreams of his gentle little sister Anita,
the beautiful Princess Nada, and the rough outlaw whom he had saved
from justice.
Next morning he made his way to the British Embassy and inquired for
Lord Ickfold, mentioning that he had come on a special mission from
the Baron Salmoros. In a few moments he was shown into His
Excellency's presence.
Lord Ickfold was a handsome, presentable man of about sixty years of
age. Contrary to the fashion of the day, he was clean-shaven. Being a
widower, an unmarried daughter presided over the establishment. This
morning he was at a somewhat late _dejeuner_, alone.
He rose and shook the young man cordially by the hand. "Anybody who
comes from my good old friend Salmoros is especially welcome," he said
with true diplomatic urbanity. "By the way, have you breakfasted? I am
very late; I had to send important despatches last night. I did not
get to bed till four this morning."
Nello answered with equal courtesy that he had already made his meal,
and handed him the bulgy packet with which the Baron had entrusted
him.
The Ambassador perused the contents of the packet slowly as he
consumed his breakfast. But the last letter he read seemed to agitate
him to an unwonted degree. He jumped up hastily, rang the bell, and
commanded the footman to order his carriage immediately. For a moment
he almost seemed oblivious of the young man's presence.
"Pardon me, Signor Corsini. I must drive to the Winter Palace at once;
the news in the last letter is of extreme urgency. We will go down
together when the carriage comes. Can I drop you anywhere?"
But Nello preferred to walk and take his bearings of the wonderful
city. Lord Ickfold shook him warmly by the hand at parting.
"I have your address. It will not be long before I shall want to see
you again. If you are writing to the Baron to-day, please give him my
warmest regards and a thousand thanks. It may be a little time, for
certain reasons, before I communicate with him directly. In fact, I
would rather send a letter to you to be forwarded."
Nello walked the gay streets for some time. Being a very shrewd young
man, in spite of his comparative youth, it seemed to him that Lord
Ickfold and the Baron were playing some subtle game, in which he was
to be used as a pawn.
But what did that matter, so long as his career was advanced between
the pair?
And then his thoughts reverted to the charming young Princess Nada.
When would he meet her again? She would be in St. Petersburg this
week, so she had told him.