“Put not your faith in princes.”
Baron Demidroff, chief of the third section of the Russian police, the
dreaded secret police, pondered this sentiment as he sat in the office
of his immediate superior, the Minister of the Interior. The Baron had
been thirty years in the police service, and for fifteen years he had
been its chief. In those years he had weathered many a storm that had
bade fair to sweep him from place and power, but never a one of them
had seemed so menacing as that which he was confronting.
“‘Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king,’” he
quoted, “‘he would not leave me naked to my enemies.’ You think the
case is desperate, then?”
The Minister flung out his hands. “Judge for yourself, Baron,” he said.
“Count Strogoff demanded your immediate dismissal. He was striking at
me over your shoulders, of course. Your retirement meant mine, for I
cannot afford to have one of Strogoff’s men in your place. The Emperor
knew it, and that is the only reason you still hold your post. I did
what I could, and will do what I can. But the most I could win was
three months’ delay, and to get that I had to talk vaguely of great
discoveries you had in train. You will have to make them, my friend, or
it is good-by to power for both of us.”
The Baron considered. He was a vigorous young-old man, with a hawk-like
face, crowned by beautiful white hair. His mustache and imperial were
the pink of military exquisiteness. In his eyes slumbered a consuming
fire.
“Humph!” he said slowly. “What discoveries would your excellency
suggest?”
The other laughed shortly, but with no merriment in his tones. “First
and best,” he answered, “find the _Orkney_ and recover her gold. Its
loss is Strogoff’s strongest card against you and me. I wish I had
never recommended borrowing that money on the Princess Napraxine’s
estates. To take it out of Strogoff’s control was like snatching a bone
from a hungry dog.”
“Russia needed it,” hazarded the other.
“Of course Russia needed it. There was neither justice nor expediency
in longer holding an estate for the benefit of a girl who had been
missing twenty years, and who is certainly dead. The Emperor only
anticipated when he decided to escheat part of it. But Strogoff had
controlled it as trustee for ten years. It was madness to suppose that
he would not seek revenge when forced to give it up.”
“You counted on his enmity when you recommended the escheatal.”
“Of course”--impatiently. “But I did not count on the money being
lost. That was your fault, Baron. You were much to blame.”
The Baron’s face showed that he did not agree with his superior’s
assertion, but he offered nothing in rebuttal. The Minister knew all
the circumstances, and if he chose to blame his subordinate, that
subordinate could gain nothing by demonstrating the unjustness of the
accusation.
“If I recover the gold even at this late day, how then?” he questioned.
“It would help! It would help! It would gain us time, and time fights
for us. Find the gold, and we can baffle Strogoff for a year or two
longer; but as long as he controls the vast remaining estates of the
Princess Napraxine, he will be dangerous.”
“Ah!” Baron Demidroff tugged at his mustache thoughtfully. “Failing
recovery of gold,” he suggested, “is there anything else your
excellency can recommend as likely to rehabilitate my position?”
“Nothing! Except, of course, the impossible. Find the Princess
Napraxine, and let her take the control of her property out of
Strogoff’s hands, and he will be crippled permanently. But that is
moonshine.”
“Perhaps not!” The Baron smiled cheerfully at the Minister. “Stranger
things have happened. As a matter of fact, I came here to-day to inform
your excellency that I have good hopes of recovering the _Orkney’s_
gold, and that I believe I have found the Princess Napraxine.”
The Minister did not start. Instead he sat and stared at the Baron as
if he would read the other’s very soul. “Humph!” he grunted. “Humph!
Humph! Humph!” Then after a moment: “The proofs will have to be very
strong, Baron!”
“They will be indisputable.”
The other mused a moment. “The girl will have to be carefully coached,”
he suggested, “and she will have to be a strong character to carry the
thing through. Strogoff is a hard man to deceive. And detection would
be serious!”
The Baron did not resent the clear imputation that the other’s words
conveyed. He seemed to take distrust as a matter of course. “Your
excellency is mistaken,” he replied suavely. “This is no case of
imposition. I have really found the Princess.”
“After twenty years?”
“After twenty years! The proofs are not completed, but the evidence is
already morally conclusive. If I can recover the gold, as I believe
I can, I should be ready even now to submit them to the Emperor,
confident that he would consider them satisfactory.”
The Minister settled back in his chair with a long breath. The thing
was too good, and came too pat to the moment, to be true. It seemed
incredible that the Princess Napraxine, stolen at the age of three,
should be found twenty years later and restored to her rightful
position. Still, Demidroff was a wonderful man, and could be relied on
not to undertake anything unless he had good prospects of carrying it
through. If he brought forward a claimant, that claimant would be well
fortified with proofs. And if she won the estates, the victory would be
so overwhelming that it was worth taking some risks to win it.
“Tell me as much of the story as you think best, Baron,” he ordered.
The Baron obeyed. “As your excellency knows,” he began, “I have agents
in terrorist circles--practically as many as they have in ours. Most
things that they do reach me in the course of time, though usually too
late to be of much value. Some months ago I began to realize Strogoff’s
power, and it seemed to me that it might be well to find the Princess.
It occurred to me to make investigations through one of my agents
into the records of the Brotherhood dating back to the time of the
abduction. In consequence I learned that the Princess had been stolen
by Count Lladislas, a Pole, who had been committed to the fortress of
St. Peter and St. Paul three years before, at the behest of the Grand
Duke Ivan, who admired the Countess Lladislas. After Lladislas was
reported dead, the Countess married the Grand Duke morganatically.
“Lladislas escaped and stole the child. Possibly he had been
misinformed and thought he was stealing his own child; I am not certain
as to this. At all events, he passed her off as such. He took her to
America, changed his name to Shishkin, and became professor in one of
the small colleges. He still lives, and I think can be made to testify.
I learned this only yesterday, and am still considering how to go about
the matter.
“So much for the Princess. Now for the gold. I learned recently,
through the same agent who gave me the first information in the matter
of the Princess, that the Brotherhood had obtained a clue to the
_Orkney’s_ gold. My information was fragmentary, but I learned that
it had dispatched an agent to New York to see a Mr. Ashton Caruth, to
whom had been sent a letter which was supposed to tell something about
the gold. I cabled Struve, our consul-general at New York, to get that
letter at all hazards. He tried, but he bungled somewhere. His men
killed a valet of Caruth’s, but did not get the letter. He does not
know who did, but he believes it is now in the hands of a woman calling
herself Marie Fitzhugh, who was in Caruth’s apartments that night,
and who is probably the agent of the Brotherhood. She has not been
identified yet, but she will be soon. Struve is keeping a close watch
on her, and thinks that sooner or later she will lead us to the gold.
“So the case stands. I am awaiting developments. Any day--any
hour--news may come. Did I speak too strongly when I said I had hopes?”
The Minister sprang to his feet and thrust out his hand
enthusiastically. Naturally optimistic, he was already certain of
triumph. “Hopes!” he cried. “Hopes! They are more than hopes, my dear
Baron; they spell triumph.”
“I think so.” The Baron rose. “I have three months’ time,” he added.
“Much may be done in three months.”
“Much indeed! Keep me advised.”
The Baron went out, but in ten minutes he was back with a paper in his
hand.
“I found this on my desk,” he cried. “It came in half an hour ago. Read
it.”
The message ran as follows:
NEW YORK.--Shishkin announces departure to dredge in Baltic for
scientific purposes. Goes on yacht of Ashton Caruth. Takes daughter
with him.