CHAPTER XXX.

AFTERWARDS.

It was nearly a month before the doctors would consent to my being

moved, and even then they grudged their permission. All the time I lay

like a Royal Prince in the Palace with all the world ready to do my

lightest wish. Had I been in a hospital, I believe the doctors would

have sent me packing a full fortnight earlier; but wounds heal slowly

when the State has to pay the doctors' fees.

The time was pleasant enough, however, save for one thing. I was full

of anxiety on Olga's account. Prince Bilbassoff brought my friend

Balestier to me and he stayed all the time, and used all his efforts to

find some trace of her whereabouts. The Emperor, too, promised that

all in his power should be done to find her; and whenever I saw Prince

Bilbassoff I importuned him also on the same quest; and his promises

were as ripe as the Czar's.

She was not found, however, and I fretted and worried until Balestier

drove home the conviction that the best thing I could do was to hurry

and get well, and then set out to search for her myself. This pacified

me, and I did all that was possible to help the doctors.

But this failure to find her was a never-ending subject of thought, as

well as of somewhat angry satire when the opportunity offered. One day

when the Prince came I rallied him strongly on the matter, thinking to

gibe him into greater activity.

"Your agents are poor hounds, Prince," I said. "They bay loudly enough

on the trail, but they don't find."

"They have found the brother," he answered quietly. "And the girl

can't be far off."

"The brother be hanged," cried I.

"Not by the Russian hangman. He doesn't mean to return here; but he

has dropped your name and probably by this time has left Paris

altogether. He knows the facts--or some of them; our agent told him

them; and he means to put as great a distance between himself and

Russia as the limitations of the globe will permit."

"He's a poor creature. How was he found?"

"As usual--a woman."

"Well, I owe him no grudge. He has given me a better part than I ever

thought to play in life. And a good wife too--if we can only find her."

"We shall find her. The woman's not born that can hide herself from

us, when we are in earnest."

"Well, I wish you'd be thoroughly in earnest now. If you were only as

much in earnest as you were about that duel...."

"I am; for I owe you more than if you had fought the duel." I looked

at him in some astonishment. "I have only to-day heard the definite

decision," he continued. "You gave me the clue, and I did not fail to

follow it up. You say my men are not sleuth hounds. Give them a blood

scent like that and try."

"All of which is unintelligible to me," I replied, noting with surprise

his excitement and exultation.

"Heavens, lad, I'm more sorry than ever you're not going to join us.

And now that that hindrance is out of the path, the path is brighter

than ever. What fools you young fellows are to go tumbling into what

you call love, and playing the devil with a career for the sake of

muslin and silks and pretty cheeks. I suppose..." he looked

questioningly, and waited as if for me to speak.

"Suppose what?" I knew what he meant well enough, but liked to make

him speak out.

"That you've really made up your mind or whatever you call it, not to

stop in Russia?"

"Absolutely. I'm going to commit social suicide and marry for

love--that is, if I can only find my sweetheart; or rather if you can

find her for me."

"I wish I couldn't," he returned; and then fearing I should

misunderstand him, added:--"I don't mean that. I mean, I'm sorry I'm

not to have your help."

"At one time it looked as though you were going to have it whether I

would or no, and I'm afraid I may have misled you and--and others

somewhat. I'm sorry for this."

"Save your vanity, youngster," he said with a short laugh,

understanding me. "My sister is no love-sick maiden with her head full

of a silly fancy that any one man is necessary to her."

I flushed a little at the rebuke; and bit my lip.

"We wanted you for Russia, not for ourselves," he added, after a pause.

"You have already done the Empire a splendid service; and that's why

you're regretted. Though, mark me, I don't say, now that things have

turned out as they have, I should not have been a bit proud of you as a

member of my family."

"What service do you mean? Saving my own skin?"

"No. Overthrowing the Grand Duke. He is completely broken. No trap

could have snared him half so well. It has now come out that the

disposition of the troops was his sole work; he himself arranged the

very order of the trains; and the minute details which he executed were

known to him alone. He laid his plans splendidly for his infernal

purpose, and had you been the man he anticipated--the dare-devil who

had killed Tueski--nothing could have saved the Emperor's life. But

God in His mercy willed the overthrow of as clever a villain as was

ever shielded by high rank. That particular slip no man could have

possibly foreseen; but he made another which surprised me. Only a

little thing, but enough. When I came to look closely into the

business I found that he had worked out in the greatest detail all the

arrangements for the last journey and the disposition of the troops,

and had committed them to paper in a number of sealed orders. These he

dated back to the previous Saturday; but only gave them out the last

thing on Sunday night. His object was of course that when inquiries

came to be made the dates on the papers should tell their own story and

prove, apparently, that, as they had been given out on the Saturday,

there would have been plenty of time for it to have leaked out to the

Nihilists through some one of the many officials who would be in

possession of it, at the time you proved it was known to the Nihilists.

On that supposition there were a hundred channels through which it

would have got out, and the Duke would have been only one among many in

a position to divulge the secret. Like a fool he thus drew the coil

close round his own body; and as soon as the Emperor knew that, my men

made a search. That did the rest effectually."

"And what has happened to him?"

"What should happen to such a man?" answered the Prince, sternly.

"Death."

"Right. But the Emperor would not. He's as soft as a pudding. The

man is imprisoned, that's all. For life, of course. But rats have an

ugly trick of slipping out as well as into a dungeon. And if he ever

does get out, boy, you will have one enemy powerful enough to make even

you cautious."

"Keep him safe, then," I laughed. "For when I leave Russia, I want to

leave all this behind me."

"You may look for trouble of some kind from the Nihilists, however."

"They are not taken very seriously by us English, Prince," I replied.

"Maybe; but remember you have been a Russian for a couple of months,

and have dealt them a stroke that they will never forget."

He left me soon after that, but I did not pay any serious heed to his

warning. I pondered his news, however. I was glad that Alexis

Petrovitch had ceased to masquerade in my name; but I could not

understand how it was that if the Russian agents could so easily find

the brother, they should be baffled in their search for Olga. But it

spurred my anxiety to go a-hunting on my own account; and I was

heartily glad therefore, when the doctors agreed to release me, and my

marching orders for St. Petersburg came.

By the Emperor's commands I was taken straight to his Palace; and his

Majesty's reception could not have been more gracious than it was.

He loaded me with signs of his favour; with his own hands pinned to my

breast the highest Order he could confer on a foreigner; and did

everything except press me to enter his service.

"Your sojourn in Russia is associated in my mind with so painful and

terrible an event, and you are personally connected with it so closely,

that in my service you would always serve to keep open a wound that

bleeds at the mere reference. I am like a man who has given

unrestrainedly the kisses of love and received in return the poison of

the asp. Moreover, Prince Bilbassoff tells me that you have made up

your mind to go to your own country; and while you will, I hope, always

be my friend, and I, with God's help, will always be yours, I shall not

seek to detain you."

"I am even now impatient to be away, your Majesty," I replied, "and

crave your leave to go at once. I hope to leave St Petersburg

immediately." I spoke with the eagerness of a lover; and his reply

surprised, and indeed, dismayed me.

"No, Mr. Tregethner, that I cannot suffer. I should feel an ingrate if

I permitted you to leave without accepting my hospitality. I do not

like an unwilling guest; but for a fortnight more at least you must

remain here."

I looked at him quickly in my amazement, and then with a bow said:--

"Your Majesty has promised me the gracious distinction of your

friendship; and as a friend I appeal to you to permit me to be your

guest at another time. The matter I have in hand is very urgent."

"I am not accustomed to have my wishes in these matters questioned,"

returned the Emperor; and at that moment I wished the Imperial

friendship at the bottom of the Baltic.

It meant that just when I was well and strong, and in every way able to

start on the task that was more to me than anything else on earth, I

had to cool my heels dangling attendance on this well meaning Imperial

Marplot in this prison-palace of his. But I smothered my feelings like

a courtier and murmured an assent--that compliance with his wishes

would be a pleasure.

He laughed, and then in a most un-Emperor-like manner clapped me on the

shoulder and said:--

"You'd soon learn the humbug of the courtier, friend. But you must not

put all this down to me. You stay by the special desire of the Prince

Bilbassoff's beautiful but rather imperious sister, in whose favour you

stand high--though you have not always treated her very well, it seems.

She has now a great desire for some more of your company, and has set

her heart on your remaining to be present at a Court marriage which she

has planned."

"I shall know how to thank the Princess when I see her," I answered,

drily enough to make my meaning clear; for the Emperor laughed and said

that might be true and that the Princess was even now anxious to see me

to thank me for past services.

My gratitude to the latter may be imagined; and when the Emperor

dismissed me, I thought of the pleasure it would afford me to express

it to her.

The opportunity came at once, for I was shewn straight to a saloon

where she appeared to have been awaiting me.

"We meet, under changed circumstances, Mr. Tregethner--my inclination

to call you Lieutenant is almost irresistible."

"His Majesty has told me, Princess, that it is to you I owe the

pleasure of being compelled to stay here at the present time."

"I am glad to have been able to secure you so high a mark of the

Imperial favour," she answered, her eyes laughing at me, but the rest

of her features serious. "I am always glad to help those who are

candid and frank with me."

"As glad as you are to be candid and frank with those you help,

Princess? Is there another duel in prospect? Or more wrongs to be

avenged? In connection with this marriage I hear of, for instance?"

"A fair question," she answered, smiling. She was certainly a very

beautiful woman when she smiled. "There is--but only very indirectly.

By the way, do you not wonder that I content myself with giving you no

more than a fortnight's imprisonment?"

"If you knew the punishment it is likely to be to me you would not wish

to inflict a heavier."

"You mean, you are so eager to be searching for this girl who

masqueraded as your sister, that you cannot spare a fortnight for the

Russian Court. Excuse me; I cannot think that even Englishmen can be

so impolite and phlegmatic."

"My 'sister' is very dear to me, Princess," I said, emphasizing the

word.

"Oh, yes, we know the value of a lover's sighs and a lover's vows and a

lover's impatience and a lover's constancy and a lover's everything

else. And you Englishmen are but like other men in these things."

I didn't understand her, so I held my tongue.

"I dare believe that though you are now so eager to be away on this

romantic search of yours, and are fretting and fuming at the delay

which I have caused, so that you may have the opportunity of witnessing

the grandeur of the Court marriage I have arranged, you will cool in

your ardour long before the fortnight is out. There are women about

the Russian Court, Sir, to the full as fair and witching and sweet as

Olga Petrovitch."

"I have the evidence of that before my eyes, Princess," I said, looking

at her and bowing to hide my chagrin at her words.

"You are angry that I hold you fickle. You should not be," she said,

with a swift glance reading my mood.

"I have confidence in my faith."

"And I confidence in your lack of it," she retorted, with a touch of

irritation in her tone. "I dare wager heavily that we have here many a

young girl in whose smiles the fire of your eagerness to leave Russia

in this search would be quickly quenched. Nay, I will do more, for I

love a challenge, and love especially to see a man who vaunts himself

on his strength of purpose and strong will and fidelity overthrown and

proved a braggart--but perhaps you dare not be put to a test?" She

asked this in a tone that made every fibre of purpose in my body thrill

with loyalty to Olga in reply to the taunt.

"Name your test," I answered, shortly.

"I wager you that I will find one among my maidens here who will turn

you from your purpose of leaving us; lure you into more than content to

abandon your search; and make you pour into her own pretty ears a

confession that you are glad I caused you to dally here--and all this

within three days."

"It is not possible, Princess. I take up your challenge readily, if

only to while away the hanging time."

She looked at me as if triumphantly.

"You dare say that? Then you are half conquered already. Now I know

you will----What is it?" she broke off to a servant who came in.

Then after hearing the servant's message, she made an excuse and left

me.

I was more than angry with her. The jest which had for its foundation

the possibility that I should change in half a week and, instead of

fretting and fuming to begin my search, be reconciled to this mummery

of a flirtation with some Court hack or other, annoyed and disturbed

me; and I turned away and gazed out of one of the tall bayed windows

into the wide courtyard below, and felt ready to consign the whole

world to destruction, with the exception of that part where Olga might

be and such a strip as might be necessary for me to get to her.

Against the Princess I was particularly enraged. To hold me for an

empty whirligig fool to turn like a magnetised needle in any direction

that any chance magnet might choose to draw me! Stop contentedly?

Bosh! Give up the search? Rot! I was so angry when I heard her come

back into the room, that I affected not to know that she was present.

And I stared resolutely out of the window pretending to be vastly

interested in the antics of a couple of big young hounds that were

gambolling together. I laughed hugely, and uttered a few exclamations

to myself but loud enough for the Princess to hear.

The Princess took it very coolly, however. She said nothing, and for a

couple of minutes the farce went on.

I expected a tirade at my rudeness; but instead I heard the frou-frou

of her dress as she crossed the room toward me.

I increased my affected gestures and muttered exclamations, and had a

mind to let fly an oath, just a little one, to shock her, when she put

her face so close to mine that I could feel its warmth, and she

whispered right into my ear:--

"Bad acting. Too self-conscious, Alexis!"

The Princess had won easily. I surrendered without an effort; gave up

all thought of the search and was suddenly filled with a glad content

to stop. For the voice was Olga's, and the merry laugh was hers, and

the blush was hers, and the love light was hers too; and the next

moment I held her in my arms close pressed to my heart.

The Princess had indeed won anyhow, and in much less than three days;

and I stopped for that wedding with all the delight in the world--in

fact nothing could have induced me to miss it.

For the bride was Olga, and the bridegroom myself, once--"that devil

Alexis!"

THE END.

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Or, Weird Tales. By J. SHERIDAN LE FANU, author of "Uncle Silas,"

"House by the Churchyard," etc.; SIR CHARLES YOUNG, Bart., and others.

Bound in brimstone yellow cloth, and appropriately illustrated, 75

cents.

The Commercial Advertiser, New York, under the title of "A Revel in

Spookdom," writes in part as follows: "What is there better for a real,

clammy, irresponsible thrill than a volume of ghost stories? You open

the book anywhere and the breath of chilly, graveyard air that comes

from the pages prepares you at once for the refreshing horrors you are

about to enjoy. At least that was my experience when I opened 'A

Stable for Nightmares,' by J. Sheridan Le Fanu. The cover is of the

hue of cold 'Welsh rabbit,' suggestive of awful indigestion and gaunt

nightmares that serve to make any ghost stories probable. The tales

are of various complexions, but all imbued with the 'pobbiness' of

new-made corpses that it so useful an element in making effective

preternatural narratives... Everyone of the eleven stories is a

splendid example of weirdness... If you want ghost stories fresh from

the charnel house, buy this book for 75 cents and you will find it a

profitable investment."

The XIth Commandment

By HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE. Handsomely bound in cloth, gilt top, $1.25.

Full of deep thought, tempered with a bright appreciation of the

ridiculous and invested with delicate sarcasm, is the new novel of

Halliwell Sutcliffe, called "The XIth Commandment." Mr. Sutcliffe's

theme is the diplomatic attitude of a north-country vicar in the Church

of England, who seeks to maintain an equilibrium in his ministrations

to the rich and poor in his parish, while favoring the rich. In

striking contrast to this attitude, the work of a young curate,

sincere, broadminded and convincing, is refreshingly shown.--Buffalo

Express.

It is full of stress and emphasis, vibrant and thrilling in places,

and, for a novel of its character, it holds the interest of the reader

to a surprising degree.--Commercial Advertiser (New York).

As the story progresses one's interest grows continually and the book

may be called not merely readable, but genuinely interesting.--Hartford

Post.

Seven Frozen Sailors

By GEORGE MANVILLE FENN, assisted by COMPTON READE, F. ARCHER, and

others. Illustrated by A. BURNHAM SHUTE. Square i6mo, cloth. 75

cents.

"Seven Frozen Sailors" is certainly a title possessing enough

originality to arouse one's curiosity. The idea is unique, and the

seven stories, each by a different author, form an interesting mosaic

of imaginative literature... The reading public seems to crave

something new, and here is a volume, not cumbersome, but of modest

size, that will, no doubt, prove attractive.--Every Saturday (Elgin,

Ill.).

The old saying, "too many cooks spoil the broth," does not hold true in

this instance, for the little book is really enjoyable.--Boston

Transcript.

The Copsford Mystery

(_Eighth edition, completing seventeenth thousand_). By W. CLARK

RUSSELL, author of "An Ocean Free Lance," "The Wreck of the Grosvenor,"

etc. Handsomely illustrated by A. BURNHAM SHUTE, and others. Cloth,

$1.25; paper, 50 cents.

"The Copsford Mystery; or, Is He the Man?" is by W. Clark Russell,

whose name at once suggests rolling billows and dashing spray. But

this is not a sea tale and is the only story not of the sea that he has

written. Save in the first chapter, when we are introduced to a girl

who is in the habit of rowing, off Broadstairs, and who gets carried

out to sea by the tide, and is rescued by a dark-browed, sunburnt, but

handsome man, there is nothing of the sea in it. The construction of

the story is more like Doyle than Russell, but it resembles the

latter's sea stories in its careful attention to detail. There is also

careful delineation of character. In an introduction is an interesting

sketch of Russell and his writings, and the book has full page

illustrations by A. Burnham Shute and others.

An Ocean Free Lance

(_Fifth edition, completing thirteenth thousand_). By W. CLARK

RUSSELL. New edition, illustrated by HARRY L. V. PARKHURST. Cloth,

superbly bound, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.

This dashing romance of the sea is held by some readers to contain Mr.

Russell's best work. In it will be found the oft-quoted description of

a naval engagement.

A Noble Haul

By W. CLARK RUSSELL, author of "The Wreck of the Grosvenor," "The

Copsford Mystery," "An Ocean Free Lance," etc. _5th thousand_. Cloth,

50 cents.

Of this work, we need only say that it is an old-fashioned "Clark

Russell story."

A Sailor's Sweetheart

By W. CLARK RUSSELL, author of "An Ocean Free Lance," etc. Illustrated

by J. STEEPLE DAVIS. 12mo, cloth, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.

We have given this superb sea classic a handsome dress, in keeping with

its character, and recommend it to the public as an unusually

interesting story.

Basile the Jester

(_Second Edition_). A Romance of the Days of Mary Queen of Scots.

12mo, Netherland Library, paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.25. By J. E.

MUDDOCK, author of "The Dead Man's Secret," "Maid Marian and Robin

Hood," "For God and The Czar," "Lochinvar," etc. Illustrations by

STANLEY WOOD and others.

The author has taken pains to represent truthfully and effectively the

life and times of Mary, Queen of Scots, the Court intrigues of the

period, the plots and counterplots of the nobles. The book is not a

prosy history with a little conversation added, but a stirring novel

full of action, and will undoubtedly rank as one of Mr. Muddock's most

popular works.

A Bride's Experiment

(Second edition). By CHAS. J. MANSFORD, author of "Shafts from an

Eastern Quiver," "Bully, Fag and Hero," etc. Holland Library, paper,

50 cents; cloth, $1.00.

This strong story will prove to be a welcome addition to our dainty

Holland Library. Mr. Mansford is one of the best known contributors to

the Strand Magazine.

End of Project Gutenberg's By Right of Sword, by Arthur W. Marchmont

By Right of Sword · 第 30 / 30 章