Frith Street is the centre of the foreign quarter of London. The
narrow, shabby thoroughfare retains, even on the brightest day in
summer, its habitual depressing air of grimy cheerlessness; but
enveloped in the yellow fog of a November evening, its aspect is
unutterably dismal. Its denizens are a very shady colony, mostly the
scum of Continental cities, who, owing to various causes, have been
compelled to flee from the police and seek a safe asylum in the region
between Shaftesbury Avenue and Oxford Street.
In a meagrely furnished sitting-room on the top floor of one of the
dingiest houses in this mean street, a young man sat gazing moodily into
the fire. He was of foreign appearance, about twenty-six years of age--
tall, dark, and rather good-looking. His negligence of attire gave him
a dash of the genial good-for-nothing, yet his pale face wore a grave,
thoughtful expression, as his chin rested upon his hand in an utterly
dejected attitude.
Beside him, with her hand placed tenderly upon his shoulder, stood a
tall, fair-haired woman several years his junior. She was eminently
beautiful, with delicately-moulded features and soft grey eyes that
betrayed an intense anxiety. It was evident that she was not an
inhabitant of that dismal quarter, for the hat she wore was of the
latest French mode, her cloak, which had fallen unheeded to the floor,
was heavily lined with sable, while upon her hand were several fine
rings, that gleamed and sparkled in the feeble rays of the solitary
candle.
"But, Paul, why cannot you remain? Here in London you are safe," she
argued, speaking in French, and bending over him with earnestness.
"Impossible," he replied, shaking his head gloomily. "It is unsafe to
stay here. I must start for America to-morrow."
"And leave me?" she cried. "No, no; we must not part. You know how
madly I love you;" and she smoothed his hair tenderly.
"Ah, Adine," he sighed, "Heaven knows, mine will be a bitter sorrow!"
Taking her hand, he raised it reverently to his lips. In the silence
that followed, the bells of a neighbouring church chimed slowly.
"Seven o'clock!" she exclaimed suddenly. "I must go at once, for I have
invited some people to dine at the hotel. Come now, promise me you will
not leave London. You are quite safe here, in this place. Besides,
what have you to fear?"
"The police are searching all over Europe for me."
"Do not be discouraged--we shall baffle them yet. I shall return
to-morrow afternoon at four, when we can discuss matters further. Be
cheerful for my sake, Paul;" and she bent and kissed him.
"Ah, Adine, you are my only friend," he said brokenly. "I am tired of
being hunted from place to place, and have been thinking that away in
Mexico or Argentina I might be safe."
"But you are not going. We shall not part," she said decisively.
As she spoke, she picked up her cloak and wrapped it about her. Then,
shaking hands with him, and lingering for a moment in his embrace, while
he kissed her passionately, she opened the door and passed down the
rickety stairs to the street.
Paul Denissoff did not offer to accompany her, but stood listening to
her retreating footsteps, afterwards sighing heavily and flinging
himself back again into his chair, where he sat staring aimlessly at the
meagre fire.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was nearly midnight. In a cozy and well-furnished private room at
the Savoy Hotel, Adine, whose guests had departed, was sitting alone
with her slippered feet upon the fender, reading. She had exchanged her
dinner-dress for a loose gown of pearl-grey silk, and her hair, unbound,
fell in rich profusion about her shoulders. Presently her French maid
entered noiselessly, and asked--
"Will mademoiselle require anything more?"
"No, not to-night, Ninette," she replied, glancing up from her novel.
"_Bon soir_, madame," exclaimed the girl, and withdrew.
When she had gone, Adine took a cigarette from her silver case, and,
lighting it, lay back in her chair in a lazy, contemplative attitude,
watching the blue smoke curl upward. For nearly half an hour she sat
engrossed in her own thoughts, when suddenly the door was thrown open.
Turning, she saw a middle-aged, well-dressed man, wearing the
conventional silk hat and overcoat.
"Colonel Solovieff!" she gasped, jumping to her feet.
"Yes," said the intruder coolly, as he closed the door and turned the
key. "I have the honour to bear that name. And you? I need not ask,
Madame Adine Orlovski, subject of my Imperial master, the Tzar."
Pale, trembling, and with teeth clenched, she felt in the pocket of her
dress, and drew forth something bright and shining. It was a small
revolver.
"No, no," exclaimed the colonel, laying his hand upon her arm. "Put
away that toy. Remember that I am chief of the English Section of
Secret Police, and to shoot me will not be a profitable pastime. I
shall not harm _you_."
"Why do you intrude here, at this hour?" she asked indignantly.
"I come--as your friend."
"My friend! _Dieu_! Can you believe that I have forgotten the insult
you offered me when we last met? My friend!--you, the chief of the
Tzar's spies!" she cried angrily.
"And you, Nihilist and assassin, eh?" added the other, with a sinister
grin. "Well, well, _ma belle_, we will not speak of such gruesome
subjects as the murder of your husband in Petersburg a year ago."
"My husband?" she gasped. "Have you discovered who murdered him?"
"Ah! then you do not forget the facts? Neither do I. He was found shot
through the heart within a hundred yards of his house in the
Vosnosenskoi Prospekt. The Third Section of Imperial Police have not
been idle, and as a result of their inquiries, a warrant has been
issued."
"For whom?"
"For the arrest of the woman who chooses to call herself Adine Orlovski,
on a charge of murdering her husband."
"Me?" she cried. "Such imputations are infamous!"
"Pray, don't be alarmed," continued the colonel, speaking in Russian,
and taking a cigarette from the case that lay open on the table. He
seated himself, and calmly lit it, saying, "Sit down; I wish to talk to
you."
Breathless with anxiety, she sank into the nearest chair.
"You see," he began, "it is impossible to escape us. Our agents are
everywhere. Outside the hotel at this moment are three officers ready
to arrest you--"
"They shall not. I'd--I'd rather kill myself."
"Very well. You have the means; do so," he said, with a brutal laugh.
"Ah!" cried the unhappy woman. "You, the chief of the Tzar's
bloodhounds, have tracked me here, and I know that, although I am
innocent, it is useless for me to expect or plead for mercy."
"Yes, madame, the warrant from the Ministry of the Interior enables me
to hand you over to the English police. When you are charged before the
magistrate to-morrow morning, I shall apply for your extradition. That
will be your first stage upon that long, straight road which leads to
Siberia. Your _dossier_ at the bureau is complete. Listen; I will
relate the details of your crime--"
"No, no! I do not wish to hear," she said, covering her face with her
hands. "I am innocent. I admit that I quarrelled with my husband, but
I had no thought of such a horrible deed."
"You confess to the quarrel? Good! Now we may advance a step further,"
said the colonel, stretching out his legs and contemplating the end of
his cigarette. "I have also discovered that you know something about
the recent attempt at the Winter Palace--in fact, I have indisputable
proof that you are a Nihilist."
"Ah! I understand now the depth of your villainy," she said, with
fierce indignation. "The charge of murder is brought against me in
order that I may be extradited to Russia and tried as a Nihilist! It is
another of your devilish schemes."
"You are shrewd," observed the chief of Secret Police, with a grim
smile. "But I ought to indicate that I require to know more of the
plans of that highly interesting circle of gentlemen who comprise the
Revolutionary Executive Committee; and you are the person to furnish
it."
"How can I, when I am not a member of the organisation?"
"To prevaricate is useless. It is only by consenting to become an agent
of the Third Section that you can escape arrest and punishment," he said
slowly.
"A police agent?" she gasped. "It would mean death!"
"Ah!--so you _are_ a Revolutionist! I was not mistaken. Very well, I
put it plainer. Either you will enter our service, and, while retaining
your connection with the Nihilist Circle at Petersburg, disclose their
secrets, or I shall execute the warrant. Remember, the Ministry of
Police are liberal, and you will be well paid for your information."
Adine was silent. This man was her enemy, and she saw the deeply-laid
plot to secure her conviction and exile to Siberia. The allegations
against her of promoting the Nihilist propaganda and taking part in
conspiracies were true, and she well knew how easily they could be
proved. She had been an active agent in a recent attempt to wreck the
Tzar's palace, the discovery of which plot had caused Paul Denissoff's
flight from Russia. But, on the other hand, she remembered that with
members of the Circle treachery was punishable by death.
"Come, I am awaiting your decision," he said impatiently.
In desperation she asked for time to consider. But he was inexorable,
and she saw there was but one course open to her--namely, to become a
spy.
"I--I will enter your service," she said at length, in a low, hoarse
voice. "I cannot refuse, since you make it the price of my freedom."
"Very well," he exclaimed, with satisfaction. "You will find our Tzar a
liberal master, and should occasion arise, you will receive our
protection. As for your secret alliance with us, no one will be aware
of it except yourself. Let us shake hands, madame--or is it
mademoiselle?--upon our agreement."
"No, Colonel Solovieff," she replied, drawing herself up haughtily. "I
have sufficient reason for declining that honour. It is enough that I
have allied myself with your despicable spies. I must wish you
good-night."
"Very well, very well," he said in a tone of annoyance, as he picked up
his hat and bowed. "_Au revoir_, madame; we shall meet again before
long," he added meaningly, and, turning, he unlocked the door and went
out.
"To-night--to-night I am vanquished!" she muttered fiercely between her
teeth when he was out of hearing; "but henceforward I shall play a
double game; and, _ma foi_! I intend to be victor!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A year later, Colonel Solovieff had been recalled from London and
appointed chief of the Secret Police of St. Petersburg. His success in
discovering Nihilist plots in London and Paris had mainly been due to
the information furnished by Adine, therefore he had compelled her to
return to the Russian capital and take up her residence in the great
mansion that had belonged to her late husband. Her implication in the
revolutionary conspiracies had placed her completely in his power, and
although forced to obey, she made one stipulation--that Paul Denissoff
should be allowed to return to Petersburg unmolested. For a long time
the colonel withheld this permission, but at length consented, and the
fugitive returned to the woman he loved. He was unaware of Adine's
alliance with the police, and she feared to tell him, lest he should
despise her. A few members of the revolutionary party living in various
parts of Russia had been denounced by her, and the Ministry of the
Interior, believing the arrests of great importance, had commended
Solovieff in consequence; but, truth to tell, the persons convicted were
of the least dangerous type, and she always exercised the utmost
caution, lest she should bring to justice any enthusiastic member of the
party or compromise herself.
Number 87 Nevski Prospekt was a small, rather dilapidated house of three
storeys. The window shutters of the ground and first floors being
closed, gave it the appearance of being uninhabited. One apartment on
the top floor, however, was furnished as a sitting-room, and was
tenanted occasionally by Colonel Solovieff. It would have been folly
for Adine to have met the chief of police at her house or at any place
where they might be observed; therefore, in order to elude the vigilance
of spies, both police and revolutionary, that everywhere abound in the
Russian capital, he had taken the house in order to provide them with a
secret meeting-place.
One afternoon early in spring, she was standing alone in this room,
gazing thoughtfully out of the window, awaiting the man she despised and
hated. Though possessing wealth, beauty, and influence, her life had
been fraught with much bitterness. While she was yet in her teens, she
loved Paul Denissoff, at that time a student at Moscow University; but
her mercenary mother had compelled her to marry Orlovski, one of the
merchant princes of the capital. For two years they lived together very
unhappily, until late one night he was found lying dead in the street,
shot by an unknown hand.
Adine mourned for him, but it was scarcely surprising that she felt some
secret satisfaction at her freedom; especially when Paul, hearing of her
bereavement, sought an interview and expressed his sympathy. Then she
was unable to conceal the fact that she still loved him, and their
mutual affection was resumed. By her marriage Paul's life had become
embittered, and this had caused him to develop into a fearless
Terrorist, reckless and enthusiastic in the cause of Russian freedom.
When she discovered he was a Nihilist, she at once joined the Circle,
rendering considerable pecuniary assistance to the cause, and taking a
prominent part in the fierce and terrible struggle between the people
and the bureaucracy.
Now, however, as a spy, her position was extremely dangerous, and as she
stood looking down into the broad thoroughfare, she was reviewing her
past, and vainly trying to devise some means by which she could escape
from the web that the detested Solovieff had cast about her.
In a few minutes the man with whom she had an appointment entered.
"Ah! good afternoon," he said, tossing his hat and stick upon a divan,
and taking a chair at the table in the centre of the room. "Be seated.
I have some news for you. Do you recollect that soon after you
consented to assist us, you gave me some information regarding a
conspiracy at Moscow?"
Her face twitched nervously as she replied in the affirmative.
"Well, we acted upon your statement, and arrested sixteen of the
revolutionists, all of whom have been tried by court-martial and
sentenced to the mines. In recognition of your services in this
instance, I am directed by my Imperial master, the Tzar, to give you
this."
And, taking from his pocket-book a bank-note for five hundred roubles,
he handed it to her.
She took it mechanically, scarcely knowing what she did. The touch of
the limp paper, however, brought to her mind that it was the wages of
her treachery. This filled her with indignation, and her face flushed
crimson.
"Have you come to offer me yet another insult, Colonel Solovieff?" she
cried. "Can you believe that I have fallen so low as to accept money as
the price of the lives of poor wretches who are drawn into your
merciless clutches? No, tell His Majesty that he may in future keep his
paltry roubles. I do not require them. See how I value the Imperial
munificence!"
And, taking the note between her fingers, she tore it into small pieces,
which she scattered upon the carpet.
"We are not all so wealthy as yourself, madame," he said, somewhat
surprised at her unusual independence. "Yet, after all, your scruples
regarding these miserable curs, the Nihilists, amount to no more than
mere caprice."
"That may be so," she replied quickly; "but in future, whatever
information you require, you will obtain for yourself. My efforts on
your behalf have been rewarded by gross insult; therefore I shall refuse
to disclose any other revolutionary secrets."
"Pardon me, madame; I have no time to bandy words with you, but your
decision is somewhat too hasty. I have discovered that three days hence
a desperate attempt is to be made upon the life of His Majesty during
the review at Peterhof, and further, that you are implicated in it!"
She started; she had believed her secret safe.
"I have resolved to preserve silence," she said abruptly.
"The plot is a most serious and widespread one," he continued, "and I
tell you plainly that if you refuse to inform me where the meeting to
arrange the final details will take place, I shall arrest both Denissoff
and yourself as Nihilists. You have your choice."
She was nonplussed, and sat twirling the ribbons of her dress with
nervous fingers, while he leaned his elbows upon the table, looking at
her intently.
"I scarcely think it would be worth your while to refuse," he remarked.
"For myself, I care nothing. I am tired of being your puppet."
"You love Paul Denissoff; surely you will save him from Siberia?"
She hesitated. She saw that to avoid Paul's arrest she would be
compelled to sacrifice all the members of the committee to whom the
elaborate plot against the autocrat Alexander had been entrusted. She
shuddered at the thought of the scandal it would create were she
arraigned before a court-martial for conspiracy against the Tzar, and
thought of the dreary, lifelong exile that would inevitably follow. In
her bewilderment she resolved to secure Paul's freedom at any cost.
"So this is but another illustration of your Satanic cunning," she said
at last, with knit brows. "I--I suppose it is imperative that I should
betray my friends;" and she sighed heavily.
"Ah! I thought you would not care to bear the consequences of refusal,"
he exclaimed, smiling at her perplexity.
"You laugh!" she cried, her eyes flashing with anger. "It is true that
you hold my destiny in your hands, but take care you do not provoke me
to desperation."
"Threats do not become you, madame," he replied coolly. "Tell me, where
shall I find these conspirators?"
She paused. She was thinking how she could save her friends.
"You know the Bolshaia Ssattovaia?" she said suddenly. "Well, almost
exactly opposite the Commercial Bank there is a small leather-shop, with
a large kitchen below. Go there to-morrow night at ten o'clock."
"Not to-night?" asked the chief of police, scribbling a memorandum.
"No; to-morrow."
"Very well," he said, rising and putting on his hat. "I am obliged for
your information. _Bon jour_, madame. If I have been a little--a
little abrupt, forgive me."
A moment later he had gone.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene was a weird one. In a low, damp, underground cellar, a dozen
men and women were sitting around a table, upon the centre of which a
playing-card was pinned by a thin ivory-hilted dagger. A couple of
guttering candles shed a feeble light upon the pale, determined
countenances of the conspirators, among whom sat Paul Denissoff.
The elderly, wild-haired man who sat at the head of the table was
speaking authoritatively, and had been explaining to those assembled,
the proposals for the _coup_ at Peterhof, a map of the neighbourhood
being spread before him.
"And now," he said gravely, "we must draw lots for the removal of the
traitor to whom I referred at the opening of our council."
A dead silence followed, while a man who sat on the president's right
prepared a number of small folded slips of paper. Upon one of these the
president scribbled a name. Then they were placed together in a small
box, and each of the revolutionists drew. In addition to the president
himself, only the person who drew the paper with the name upon it knew
who had been guilty of treachery, while all remained in ignorance of the
chosen assassin.
Then the council broke up, arranging to meet on the following night.
At nine o'clock on the next evening, Paul Denissoff, pale-faced and
haggard-eyed, entered the hall of the great house of the Orlovskis.
"I must see madame at once," he said to a lackey. "Take me to her."
A few moments later he was ushered along a spacious corridor filled with
palms and exotics, through a great white and gold ballroom, and
presently admitted into a small, exquisitely furnished little apartment,
wherein sat Adine, in a lounge chair, doing fancy needlework.
"Ah, Paul?" she cried, starting to her feet. "Why, what ails you?"
"Hush, Adine," he said hoarsely, when the door had closed. "Some one
has denounced you to the executive as a traitor. The council have
passed sentence of death, and I--I have drawn the fatal number. You
must fly--you must leave Russia at once--to-night--for at midnight I
must return here to--_to murder you_!"
"_Dieu_!" she gasped. "Then my secret has been divulged! I confess--it
is true, Paul. I have been guilty of double dealing, but it was to
save--Hark! Listen!"
There were sounds of voices outside the door, which a moment afterwards
was flung open, revealing two ordinary-looking individuals, accompanied
by several grey-coated police officers.
"Paul Denissoff," exclaimed one of the detectives, stepping forward, "in
the name of our father, the Tzar, I arrest you for conspiracy."
"By Heaven! I'll not go with you. I--"
In a moment he had drawn a revolver and placed himself on the defensive;
but a second later the weapon was wrenched from his grasp. Adine, pale
and weeping, threw herself between him and his captors, but she was
roughly thrust aside, and he was handcuffed and conveyed away to the
Police Bureau.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Assize Court of St. Petersburg was crowded to suffocation, for a
great trial of Nihilists was concluding. Paul Denissoff, as a
preliminary to his punishment, had been kept in solitary confinement in
one of the cells deep down under the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul.
Together with thirty other revolutionists, including those arrested in
the Bolshaia Ssattovaia, he was now brought up for sentence. The rays
of the afternoon sun were slanting across the court, lighting up the
dais whereon sat the grave-looking judge, over whose head hung the
golden double-headed eagle, surmounted by an _ikon_, or picture of the
Virgin.
Those in court were breathless, for sentence was about to be delivered.
Presently the judge spoke.
"Prisoners," he said, addressing the motley row of eager-faced men and
women before him, "you have all been found guilty of conspiracy to cause
the death of His Imperial Majesty the Tzar. There is but one sentence
the _Swod_ allows me to pronounce, and it is that you shall be banished
and kept at labour at the mines for the remainder of your lives."
Above the sobs and wailing which came from the public portion of the
court sounded a shrill, piercing, hysterical shriek. Paul, turning
sharply, saw that a poorly-clad woman, sitting in the front row of the
spectators, had fainted. Her clothes were common, her hair was parted
in the middle and brushed back severely; but, notwithstanding the
disguise, he recognised her. It was Adine Orlovski.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two years had gone by. Colonel Solovieff, promoted to the rank of
general, had been appointed by the Tzar as Governor of the Asiatic
Province of Trans-Baikal.
In the whole of Siberia there is no region more desolate than around the
Nerchinsk silver mines of Algachi and Pokrovski. Situated far away in
Eastern Siberia, near the Mongolian frontier, and distant five thousand
versts from St. Petersburg, there is not a tree or bush to be seen in
any direction, and the rolling, snow-clad hills suggest in general
contour the immense surges and mounds of water raised by a hurricane.
The buildings at the entrance to the Pokrovski mine consist only of a
tool-house, a shed for the accommodation of the Cossacks of the guard,
and a few log-built cabins occupied by convicts allowed out on licence
for good behaviour; while dotted here and there are sentry-boxes, before
which stand Cossacks leaning on their rifles.
It is impossible to imagine a more terrible and hopeless existence than
that to which Paul Denissoff had been consigned, working all day in the
damp, muddy galleries of the mine, and at night trudging through the
snow back to the close, foul prison of Algachi. It was, indeed, worse
than the life of any pariah dog, for, recognising the hopelessness of
the situation, he had given way to that inertness begotten of despair.
He had been toiling with his pick for nearly fourteen hours in the gloom
of one of the lower galleries of the mine, when an armed warder came and
told him it was time to leave. Casting down his pick, he sighed, and
rose from the crouching position in which he was compelled to work. The
dim candlelight showed he had aged considerably. The iron fetters upon
his feet clanked ominously as he walked, and upon his ragged,
mud-stained clothes was stitched the great yellow diamond denoting a
life sentence.
Presently prisoner and warder came to the foot of the shaft, and both
ascended the rickety ladders which led to the surface. At length they
emerged into the light of day, and saw standing before one of the
log-sheds a row of silent convicts guarded by Cossacks, waiting to be
marched back to prison. Paul walked over and joined them. The wind was
biting cold, and snow lay deep upon the road.
Outside the cabin of one of the convicts of the "free command" stood two
well-appointed four-horse sleighs; and while the shivering men were
wondering who could be travelling in this remote colony, another sleigh
came rapidly along the road, preceded by two mounted Cossacks.
The vehicle drew up before the convicts, and its occupant, flinging off
the rugs that covered him, stepped out. The men removed their hats and
cheered, but Paul remained motionless. He recognised that the traveller
was General Solovieff, the governor. Enveloped in a great sable-lined
coat, from beneath which his sword trailed in the snow, he walked with
difficulty over to where the captain of the Cossacks stood. After a few
minutes' conversation, the captain turned and shouted--
"Let the convict Denissoff come here!"
Paul stepped forward and saluted.
"Ah, yes," said Solovieff, when he saw him, "This is the man; I knew him
in Petersburg. He is very dangerous, therefore, in future, he is not to
go to the mines. Let him remain in the prison always. You understand?"
"Yes, your Excellency," replied the captain, wondering why such
additional torture should be heaped on a prisoner so well-behaved; for
he was well aware that work in the mine was even preferable to life in
the foul, overcrowded prison.
"But, your Excellency," protested Paul, "I have not been mutinous. I--"
"Silence!" thundered the general. "Get back to your place!"
As he turned, two persons confronted him--a man who wore an official
uniform with the Imperial eagle upon his cap, and a woman wrapped in a
great fur-lined travelling cloak.
The recognition was mutual, and in a moment he was wringing Adine's
hand.
Meanwhile the man had stepped forward, and, addressing the Cossack
officer, said--
"Captain Yagodkin, we have not met before, my name is Ivan Torsneff, and
I am an aide-de-camp of His Majesty, the Tzar."
"Ah, I remember you, Torsneff!" cried the general, stretching forth his
hand. "What brings you here, so far from Petersburg?"
"An unpleasant duty, General Solovieff," replied the Tzar's messenger
coldly. Taking an official document from the pocket of his greatcoat,
he added, "I have here a warrant from His Imperial Majesty, my august
master, ordering Captain Yagodkin to release the prisoner Paul Denissoff
immediately; and, further, to arrest and detain at hard labour the
governor of the Trans-Baikal, General Solovieff."
"What?" cried His Excellency. "You're mad!"
"Captain Yagodkin," continued Count Torsneff, "In the name of the Tzar,
I hand the warrant to you. It is in His Majesty's own handwriting--read
for yourself."
The Cossack officer opened it eagerly, read it through, and glanced at
the Imperial signature and seal. Then, addressing the governor, he
said--
"General Solovieff, you are under arrest, by order of the Tzar!"
"What for?"
"It has been proved by an accomplice of yours, one Sergius Baranoff,"
replied the aide-de-camp, "that you are a murderer--that, with the
object of eventually marrying Madame Orlovski, you waylaid and murdered
her husband. Afterwards, when she rejected your proposals of marriage,
you brought circumstantial evidence to bear and accused her of the
crime. In your absence, the case has been tried in Petersburg, and your
sentence is hard labour in the mines for life."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A few hours later, Paul and Adine had started on the first stage of
their journey back to civilisation. They are now married, and live
happily in one of those charming villas in the pine forest at Arcachon.