Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: I raised my sword and struck him with the flat side of
it across the face.--_Frontispiece, Page 42_.]
By Right of Sword
BY
ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT
AUTHOR OF
"Sir Jaffray's Wife," "Parson Thring's Secret," Etc., Etc.
NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
156 : FIFTH : AVENUE : NEW : YORK
HUTCHINSON & COMPANY, LONDON
Copyright 1897
BY
ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
I Raised My Sword and Struck Him with the Flat
Side of it across the Face . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
"I Know that You are My Brother, Alexis"
A Swinging Cut Made Another Drop His Knife with a Great Cry of Pain
"Here, Strike," I Cried
"Alexis, Did You Bring That Proposal to Me Deliberately?"
"Take Another Two Grains, Mouse"
I Darted Forward into the Doorway
I Tore It from Him
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE MEETING
II. I AM A NIHILIST
III. MY SECONDS
IV. THE DUEL
V. GETTING DEEPER
VI. A LEGACY OF LOVE
VII. A LESSON IN NIHILISM
VIII. THE RIVERSIDE MEETING
IX. DEVINSKY AGAIN
X. "THAT BUTCHER, DURESCQ"
XI. DANGER FROM A FRESH SOURCE
XII. CHRISTIAN TUESKI
XIII. OLGA IN A NEW LIGHT
XIV. THE DEED WHICH RANG THROUGH RUSSIA
XV. A SHE DEVIL
XVI. THE NEXT NIHILIST PLOT
XVII. AN EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE
XVIII. THE REASON OF THE INTRIGUE
XIX. OLGA'S ABDUCTION
XX. THE RESCUE
XXI. THREE TO ONE
XXII. THE BEGINNING OF THE END
XXIII. CHECKMATE!
XXIV. CRISIS
XXV. COILS THAT NO MAN COULD BREAK
XXVI. MY DECISION
XXVII. THE FOUR ALDER TREES
XXVIII. THE ATTACK ON THE CZAR
XXIX. THE TRUTH OUT AT LAST
XXX. AFTERWARDS
BY RIGHT OF SWORD.
CHAPTER I.
THE MEETING.
Moscow.
"MY DEAR RUPERT.
"Don't worry your head about me. I shall be all right. I did not see
you before leaving because of the scene with your sister and Cargill,
which they may perhaps tell you about. I have done with England: and
as the auspices are all for war, I mean to have a shy in. I went to
Vienna, thinking to offer myself to the Turks: but my sixteen years in
Russia have made too much of a Russ of me to let me tolerate those lazy
cruel beggars. So I turned this way. I'm going on to St Petersburg
to-day, for I find all the people I knew here as a lad have gone north.
I have made such a mess of things that I shall never set foot in
England again. If Russia will have me, I shall volunteer, and I hope
with all my soul that a Turkish bullet will find its billet in my body.
It shan't be my fault if it doesn't. If I hadn't been afraid of being
thought afraid, I'd have taken a shorter way half a score of times. My
life is an inexpressible burden, and I only wish to God someone would
think it worth while to take it. I don't want to be hard on your
sister, but whatever was left in my heart or life, she has emptied, and
I only wish she'd ended it at the same time. You'll know I'm pretty
bad when not even the thought of our old friendship gives me a moment's
pleasure. Good-bye. Don't come out after me. You won't find me if
you do.
Your friend,
HAMYLTON TREGETHNER."
The letter was wretchedly inconsequential. When I sat down to write I
hadn't meant to tell Rupert Balestier that his sister's treatment had
made such a mess of things for me; but my pen ran away with me as it
always does, and I wasn't inclined to write the letter all over again.
I hate letter writing. I was to leave Moscow, moreover, in an hour or
two, and when I had had my things sent to the railway station and
followed them, I dropped the letter into the box without altering a
word.
It had made me thoughtful, however; and I stood on the platform looking
moodily about me, wondering whether I should find the end I wished most
speedily by joining the army or the Nihilists; and which course would
bring me the most exciting and quickest death.
I had three or four hours to wait before my train left, and I walked up
and down the platform trying to force myself to feel an interest in
what was going on about me.
Presently I noticed that I was the object of the close vigilance of a
small group of soldiers such as will generally be seen hanging about
the big stations in Russia. They looked at me very intently; I noticed
them whisper one to another evidently about me; and as I passed they
drew themselves up to attention and saluted me. I returned the salute,
amused at their mistake, and entered one of the large waiting saloons.
It was empty save for one occupant, who was standing by the big stove
looking out of a window near. This was a girl, and a glimpse I caught
of her face shewed me she was pretty, while her attitude seemed to
suggest grief.
As I entered and went to another part of the room, she started and
glanced at me and then looked away. A few seconds later, however, she
looked round furtively, and then to my abundant surprise, came across
and said in a low, confidential tone:
"It is not enough, Alexis. I knew you in a minute. But you acted the
stranger to perfection."
She was not only pretty, but very pretty, I thought, as she stood with
her face raised toward mine, a light of some kind of emotion shining in
her eyes where I saw traces of tears. But my recent experiences of
Edith Balestier had toughened me a lot, and I was suspicious of this
young woman.
"Pardon me, Madam, you have made a mistake."
Then she smiled, rather sadly; and her teeth shone salt white between
her full curved lips.
"Your voice would betray you, even if your dear handsome eyes did not.
Do you think the mere shaving of your beard and moustache can hide your
eyes. Just look into mine and see if the shade is not exact?"
I did look into them: and very beautiful eyes hers were. Little
shining blue heavens all radiant with the light of infinite capacity to
feel. Fascinating eyes, very. But I had not lived the first sixteen
years of my life in Russia without getting to know that in that big
land all is not snow that looks white; and that a very awkward intrigue
may lurk beneath a very fair seeming surface.
"Madam, I am charmed, but I have not the honour of knowing you."
A passing cloud of irritation shewed and a little gesture of
impatience, sufficient to remind me that the gloved hands were very
small.
"Ah, why keep this up now? There is no need, and no time. Is not the
train starting in less than an hour--and by the way, what madness is it
that makes you loiter about here in this public way, out of uniform and
as if there were no danger and you were merely taking a week's holiday,
instead of flying for...."
"Madam," I broke in again. "I must repeat, I am a stranger. You must
not tell me these things. My name is Hamylton Tregethner, an
Englishman, and...."
"Yes, yes, I know you are: or at least I know you are going to call
yourself English, though you haven't told me what your name is to be.
But I know that you are my brother Alexis, going to leave me perhaps
for ever, and that when I want to scold you for running this risk--for
you know there are police, and soldiers, and spies in plenty to
identify you--you...." here she made as if to throw herself into my
arms. But suspecting some trick, I stepped back.
[Illustration: "I know that you are my brother, Alexis."]
"Madam, I must ask you to be good enough not to play this comedy any
farther." I spoke rather sternly.
"If your disguise were only as good as your acting, Alexis, not a soul
in Russia would suspect you. Oh, I see what you mean," she cried, a
look of intelligence breaking over her features. "I forgot. Of
course, I am compromising your disguise by thus speaking to you. I am
sorry. It was my love for you made me thoughtless, when I should have
been thoughtful. I will go away." She turned on me such a look of
genuine grief that it melted my scepticism.
"There is really some strange mistake," I said, speaking much more
gently. "At first I thought you were intentionally mistaking me for
someone else; for what object I knew not. But I see now the error was
involuntary. I give you my honour, Madam, that you are under a
complete mistake if you take me for any relative of your own. I am an
Englishman, as I say, and I arrived in Moscow only last night, and am
leaving for St Petersburg by the next express train. I am afraid, if
you persist in your mistake, it may have unpleasant consequences for
you. Hence my plain speech. But I am what I say."
As I finished, I raised my hat and stood that she might convince
herself of her blunder.
She looked at me with the most careful scrutiny, even walking round to
get a view of my figure. Then she came back and looked into my face
again; and I could see that she was still unconvinced.
"It is impossible," she said, under her breath. "If I allow for the
difference your beard and moustache would make, you are my brother."
"I am Hamylton Tregethner," I said, and I took out my pocket-book and
shewed her my passport to Paris, Vienna, Moscow, "and travelling on the
Continent."
"These things can be bought--or made," she said. Then she seemed to
understand how she had committed herself with me, if I were really a
stranger, and I saw her look at me with fear, doubt, and speculation on
her pretty expressive face.
She sighed and lifted her hands as if in half despair.
"Madam, you have my word as an Englishman that not a syllable of what
you have said shall pass my lips." The bright glance of gratitude she
threw me inspired me to add:--"If I can be of any help in this matter,
you may command me absolutely."
She gave me a little stiff look, and I thought I had offended her: but
the next moment a light of eagerness took its place.
"When are you leaving?" she asked with an indifference I could see was
assumed.
"By the St Petersburg express at 6 o'clock."
"That is two hours after the Smolensk train." She paused to think and
glanced at me once, as if weighing whether she dare ask me something.
Then she said quickly:--"Will you give me a couple of hours of your
company on this platform and in the station this afternoon?"
It was a strange sort of request and when I saw how anxiously she
awaited my reply I could perceive she had a strong motive: and one that
had certainly nothing to do with any desire for my company.
Then suddenly I guessed her motive. The cunning little woman! Her
brother was obviously going to fly from Moscow. She saw that inasmuch
as she herself had mistaken me for him, others would certainly do so;
and thus, if she and I were together, the brother would get away
unsuspected and would be flying from Moscow while he would be thought
to be still walking about the station with his sister. I liked the
idea, and the girl's pluck on behalf of her brother.
"I will give you not only two hours," I said, "but two days, or two
weeks, if you like--if you will tell me candidly what your reason is."
She started at this and saw by my expression that I had guessed her
very open secret.
"If you will walk with me outside, I will do that," she said. "I am a
very poor diplomatist." With that we went out on to the platform and
commenced a conversation that had momentous results for us all.
She told me quite frankly that she wished me to act as a cover for her
brother's flight.
"No harm can come to you. You will only have to prove your
identity--otherwise I should not have asked this," she said,
apologetically. And then to excuse herself, she added, "And I should
have told you, even if you had not asked me."
I believed in her sincerity now, and I told her so in a roundabout way.
Then I said:--"I am in earnest in saying that I will stay on in Moscow
for a day or two if you wish. I have nothing whatever to do, and if
the affair should bring me in conflict with anyone, I should like it.
I can't tell you all my reasons, as that would mean telling you a
biggish slice of my life; but feel assured that if there's likely to be
any adventure in it from which some men might shrink, it would rather
attract me than otherwise. But if you care to tell me the reasons of
your brother's flight, I will breathe no word of them to a soul, and I
may be of help." I began to scent an adventure in it, and the perfume
pleased me.
My words set her thinking deeply, and we took two or three turns up and
down before she answered.
"No, you mustn't stop over to-day," she said, slowly. Then she added
thoughtfully:--"I don't know what Alexis would say to my confiding in
you; but I should dearly like to." She turned her face to me and
looked long and searchingly into my eyes. Then smiled slightly--a
smile of confidence. "I feel I can trust you. I will risk it and tell
you. My brother is flying because a man in his regiment"--here her
eyes shone and her cheeks coloured to a deep red--"has fastened a
quarrel on him. He has--has tried to--well, he has worried me and I
don't like him"--the blush was of indignation now--"and because of this
he has picked a quarrel with Alexis; and to-morrow--means to kill him
in that form of barbarous assassination you men call duelling. He
knows he is infinitely more skilful than poor Alexis, and that my dear
brother is no match for him with either sword or pistol; and he will
drag him out to-morrow, and either shoot or stab him."
The tears overflowed here, and made the eyes look more bright and
beautiful than ever.
"Why didn't your brother refuse to fight?"
"How could he?" she asked despairingly. "He would have been a marked
man--a coward. And this wretch would have triumphed over him. And he
knows this, because he offered to let Alexis off, if I--if I--Oh, would
that I were a man!" she cried, changing the note of indignant grief for
anger.
"Do you mean he has made such an offer as this since the challenge
passed?"
"Yes, my brother came and told me. But I could not do it. And now
this has come."
I didn't think very highly of the brother, but he had evidently talked
his sister round. What I thought of most was the chance of a real
adventure which the thing promised.
The man must be a bully and a scoundrel, and it would serve him right
to give him a lesson. If this girl had not recognised me, perhaps he
would not. I felt that I should like to try. There was no reason why
I should not. I could easily spare a couple of days for the little
drama, and go on to St Petersburg afterwards.
"You are very anxious for your brother's safety?" I asked.
"He is my only protector in the world. If he gets away now to Berlin
or Paris, I shall follow and go to him."
"But is he likely to get away when he will be missed in a few hours. A
single telegram from Moscow will close every frontier barrier in Russia
upon him."
"We know that;" and she wrung her hands.
"If he could have two clear days he could reach the frontier and pass
unquestioned," I said, significantly.
She was a quick-witted little thing and saw my point with all a woman's
sharpness.
"Your life is not ours to give away. This man is noted for his great
skill."
"Would everyone be likely to make the same mistake about me that you
have made this afternoon?" I asked in reply.
She looked at me again. She was trembling a little in her earnestness.
"Now that I know, I can see differences--especially in your expression;
but in all Moscow there is not a man or woman who would not take you
for my brother."
"Then I decide for the two days here. And if it will make you more
comfortable, I can assure you I am quite as able to take care of myself
with either sword or pistol as this bully you speak of. But it is for
you to decide."
There came a pause, at the end of which she said, her face wearing a
more frightened look:--
"No, it must not be. There are other reasons. My brother is mixed up
with..."
"Excuse me, can you tell me which is the train for Smolensk?" asked a
man who came up and interrupted us, speaking in a mixture of Russian,
English and German.
The girl started violently, and I guessed the man was her brother. A
glance at his eyes confirmed this. They were a weak rendering of the
glorious blue eyes that had been inspiring me to all sorts of impulses
for the last hour.
"That disguise is too palpable," I said, quietly. He had shaved and
was wearing false hair that could deceive no one. In a few minutes the
whole situation was explained to him by his quick sister.
"I've only consented to go in order that Olga here may not be robbed of
her only protector," he said, thinking apparently to explain away his
cowardice. "She has no one in the world to look after her but me, you
know. If you'll help her in this matter, she will be very much
obliged; and so shall I. You needn't go out to-morrow and fight
Devinsky--that's the major's name: Loris Devinsky. My regiment's the
Moscow Infantry Regiment, you know. If you'll go to my rooms and sham
ill, no one will know you, and as soon as I'm over the frontier I'll
wire Olga, and you can get away." He was cunning enough as well as a
coward, evidently.
"Very well," said I. "But you'll get over no frontier if you wear a
beard which everyone with eyes can see is false, and talk in a language
that no one ever spoke on this earth. Pull off the beard: the little
black moustache may stay. Speak English, or your own tongue, and play
my part to the frontier; and here take my passport; but post it back to
your sister to be given to me as soon as you're safe over. And for
Heaven's sake don't walk as if you were a thief looking out for arrest.
No one suspects; so carry yourself as if no one had cause to."
It was a good thing for him I had seen his sister first. He would
never have got me to personate him even for a couple of hours.
But we got him off all right, and his sister was so pleased that I
could not help feeling pleased also. First in his assumed character he
made such arrangements for my luggage as I wished, and then we hurried
up to the train just before it started. As we reached the barrier
where the papers had to be examined, he turned and bade his sister
good-bye, and then said to me aloud in Russian, hiding his voice a
little:--
"Well, good-bye, Alexis;" and he shook hands with me.
"Good-bye," I answered with a laugh: and he waved an adieu to us from
the other side of the barrier.
As we turned away together, Olga was a little pale.
Three soldiers saluted me, and I acknowledged the salute gravely,
glancing at them as I passed.
Then I noticed a couple of men who had been standing together and
watching the girl and myself for some time, leave their places and
follow us. I told my companion and presently I saw her turn and look
at them, and then start and shiver.
"Do you know them?" I asked.
"Alas, yes. They are Nihilist spies, watching us."
"Ah, then there is a little more in this than I have understood so
far," I said.
"You shall know everything," she replied as we left the station
together.