Rescued
"There's someone coming, sir!" whispered Chalmers, raising his
revolver. "Stand by, sir!"
Both men waited in eager silence as the sound of bolts being
withdrawn was borne to their ears.
A voice hailed in Russian. Fordyce lowered his pistol.
"It's all right, Chalmers," he said quietly, as Captain-Lieutenant
Orloff entered the cellar.
"We have made a clean sweep of this little nest, Monsieur Fordyce!"
declared the Russian. "Klostivitch will not trouble you or anyone
else in the future, as far as this world is concerned. The other man
you mentioned is a prisoner. We also found a third--Platoff by name.
Do you know anything of him?"
No, Fordyce did not. He would have been considerably surprised if he
had known that Platoff was in Mindiggle's house at Otherport on that
momentous day when the Sub strove to placate the irate victim of
Flirt's attack.
"It does not matter overmuch," continued Orloff. "The fellow asked
for trouble--and received it. He had to be knocked over the head,
otherwise he would have strangled one of my men. Sovensky struck a
little too hard, and----"
The big Russian shrugged his shoulders. Fordyce understood.
"You are hungry?" asked Orloff. "Fortunately Comrade Klostivitch was
well provided against possible famine. One of my men will get you
both a meal, for it is a long, cold journey to Cronstadt. Meanwhile,
if you will excuse me, I will make a search for incriminating
documents."
Fordyce and the petty officer made their way to the room in which
Mindiggle had been arrested. The spy was no longer there, having been
removed to another part of the house for safe custody. The Sub was
glad of that. Much as he had cause to detest the villain, he was not
at all anxious to crow over his discomfiture.
Presently Orloff hurried into the room with a bundle of papers in his
hands.
"Will you kindly read these, Monsieur Fordyce?" he asked. "They are
in English, and, as you know, I am ignorant of the language of our
brave allies. Glance through them hurriedly, please, for time is a
consideration."
The Sub took the documents. The first was seemingly of no importance,
but the second gave a formula for the manufacture of nitro-talcite, a
recipe for which the leading scientists of Great Britain had sought
in vain.
Other papers gave details of the extremist movement in London and
elsewhere, including the names of several Russian residents within
the limits of the British Isles.
"Take charge of these documents," continued Orloff. "They will be
safer on a British submarine than in my possession, or even if they
were left at your embassy. Now, are you ready, Monsieur? It is time
to evacuate our position."
Through the still-silent streets the rescuing-party made their way,
two of the seamen labouring under the weight of what appeared to be a
well-filled sack carried between two poles. At the quay the tolerant
sentry was rewarded according to previous agreement, and, shouting a
tipsy farewell, he permitted his "comrades of the navy" to embark
with their burden of "fresh beef".
It was now beginning to snow heavily. The bizarre towers of the Kazan
Cathedral and the battlements of the fortress of Peter and Paul were
invisible in the drifting flakes. Even the opposite bank of the Neva
was fast being blotted into a state of unrecognizability.
"Do you think that we can manage it, my children?" asked Orloof, as
the men took to their oars.
"Certainly, Excellency," was the chorused reply that evidenced no
doubt as to the ability of the hardy Russian seamen to find their way
across the bleak expanse of water.
Steering the boat on a compass course, Orloff devoted his whole
attention to his task. The men relapsed into silence, pulling with
steady strokes. Fordyce, glad of the comfort of a boat-cloak, was too
elated at his release and the prospect of finding himself once more
on board R19 to feel the biting cold. Occasionally the sack-enclosed
bundle lying in the stern-sheet grating writhed and kicked, but
little attention was paid to the unhappy captive.
Suddenly the falling snow was tinted a vivid orange hue, while the
sky in the direction of the city was rent with lurid light. Then came
an ear-splitting roar, while the ice-encumbered waters rose and fell
under the influence of a powerful displacement of air. Green seas
poured over both gunwales of the boat, and only the resourcefulness
of the helmsman kept the frail craft from foundering.
"We are indeed fortunate," exclaimed Orloff, when the angry tumult of
water had subsided and the men set to work to bale out the cutter.
"All is not well with Petrograd, I fear."
The seamen hazarded various opinions as to the locality of the
explosion, but it was not until the following day that they heard the
facts of the case.
When Orloff pursued the luckless Klostivitch it must be remembered
that he left the attic window open. In the room was stored a small
quantity of the powerful nitro-talcite, the temperature of the house
being kept up by means of the central heating-stove. Upon the house
being abandoned the neglected fires soon dwindled, while the
temperature of the attic fell so steadily that within half an hour of
the time of leaving the house the nitro-talcite automatically
exploded. Most of the buildings in the Bobbinsky Prospekt were blown
to atoms and considerable damage done to the adjoining property; but,
as "it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good", the Extremist
leaders came to the conclusion that their energetic assistant,
Vladimir Klostivitch, had perished by means of the explosive he had
meant to employ against others.
For two more hours the cutter's crew pulled steadily. At intervals
the braying of fog-horns and the shrill blast of sirens told them
that other water-borne traffic was under way; yet, without sighting
any other craft, they held steadily on, following the edge of the ice
in the still-free Morskoi Canal.
Presently Captain-Lieutenant Orloff jerked the port-hand yoke-line.
His keen eyes had discerned the outlines of the lighthouse on the
eastern extremity of the island fortress.
It was now an easy matter for the cutter to pick her way past the
line of anchored destroyers. Hailed she was repeatedly; but there was
no cause for alarm, since boats of the flotilla were constantly
passing.
Almost before Fordyce was aware of the fact the cutter was rubbing
sides with R19, while leaning over the guard-rail of the submarine
were the Hon. Derek and Mr. Macquare.
"No, I will not stay, Monsieur le Capitan," replied Orloff in reply
to Stockdale's invitation. "Later on, perhaps--who knows? Meanwhile,
pray accept this gift. It is not the same as I intended to hand you,
nevertheless it may be acceptable."
And he indicated the enshrouded figure of the spy, Mindiggle.
"Come aboard, sir," reported Fordyce as he made his way up the side.
"Quite about time, Mr. Fordyce," replied the Hon. Derek, grasping his
subordinate's hand. "Another hour and we should have left you behind.
Confound it, what's that?"
"That" was Flirt. The delighted animal, hearing her master's voice,
had escaped from below, and, nearly capsizing the astonished
Lieutenant-Commander, had literally bounded into the Sub's arms.