THE DEED OF MICHAEL THE GUARDSMAN
Accompanied by Zabern, Paul returned to the palace, where he was met
by the court chamberlain, who conducted him to a fine suite of
apartments, which by the special command of the princess were assigned
to the new secretary.
Supplied by Zabern with the cipher despatch, and by the court
librarian with a copy of the "Eumenides," Paul, having first requested
to be left to himself, sat down to work out the cryptographic problem.
The paper given to him by the marshal was covered with rows of
numerals, separated from each other by dots.
The first eight numbers were as follows,--
6 . 42 . 50 . 37 . 97 . 39 . 65 . 21
What did these figures represent? Certain words in the Greek play? If
the sixth word of the "Eumenides," the forty-second, the fiftieth and
so forth, were picked out and placed in immediate sequence, would they
yield an intelligible sentence?
He tried this method with the above numbers, but the result did not
encourage him to proceed.
It was not likely that the writer of the despatch intended to forward
such intelligence as: "Of gods and a name a daughter of an art was
seated into an oracle."
On reflection Paul perceived the improbability that the numbers stood
for words, inasmuch as the vocabulary of an ancient Greek poet would
be insufficient to supply all the terms required by the usages of
modern civilization, such, for example, as passport, banknote, or
rifle. And to clench the matter, Paul observed that towards the end of
the despatch there was the number, .8537. Now the total of words in
the "Eumenides" falls considerably short of that sum.
But if all the letters that composed the words of the play were
numbered in consecutive order from Π the first to ς
the last, then, indeed, the sum total would far exceed 8537.
Paul resolved to test this theory, namely, that 6 was intended to mean
the sixth letter in the "Eumenides," 42 the forty-second letter, etc.
Great was his delight when he produced the following result,--
. 6 . 42 . 50. 37 . 97 . 39 . 65 . 21 .
ν ι κ ο λ α ο ς
Nicholas, the name of the reigning Czar!
Proceeding in the same fashion, Paul found that the numbers following
those which stood for Nicholas yielded the intelligible word ουναινεται,
"assents."
"To what does Nicholas assent?" murmured Paul.
"Let me endeavor to ascertain, since it is quite clear that the key to
the cipher is now in my hands."
Obviously his best course would be to go through the "Eumenides"
first, marking, say, every tenth letter with its proper consecutive
number. This done, the work of decipherment would take but a few
minutes.
Paul started on this most monotonous task,--a task that occupied him
more than four hours, from the necessity imposed upon him of verifying
his enumeration from time to time, for a single error in his
calculation would have confused the whole issue. And when at last his
copy of the "Eumenides" lay ready figured for use, the misgiving
seized him that perhaps, after all, his labor had been in vain.
"Various readings occur in the manuscripts of the 'Eumenides,'" he
muttered. "If the writer of this despatch has used a different edition
from mine,--_Dindorf, Lips._ 1827,--well, then, lack-a-day!"
Fortunately, however, the result falsified his misgiving.
Once during his calculations the eager Zabern had entered the
apartment with the question, "What progress?"
"Return in two hours, and you shall have the solution."
And the marshal had withdrawn, somewhat doubtful of Paul's ability to
make good his promise.
However, before the expiration of the two hours Paul had mastered the
contents of the document. It was written in Greek, and, as the
marshal's knowledge of that language was extremely limited, Paul spent
some time in endeavoring to produce a faithful translation. And his
rendering was as follows,--
_Nicholas assents. So proceed quickly. Risk of discovery in
transmitting document. Therefore burn as soon as seized.
When done, report matter. Envoy will follow to demand
production._
_Lipski's measure approved. Money shall be forwarded by
usual route. Let him bribe freely. The success of his bill
Russia's justification. Impossible, then, for Europe to
oppose annexation.--ORLOFF._
The signature seemed to show that the letter came from the
governor-general of Warsaw, the knouter of Katina, but there was
nothing to indicate the person for whom it was intended. Paul had
little doubt as to the correctness of his decipherment, though the
meaning was far from clear to him.
Zabern would doubtless be able to understand the allusions, and if the
marshal should not soon make his appearance Paul was resolved to go in
quest of him.
The night was now far advanced, and, having been at work several hours
in a close chamber, Paul was beginning to feel somewhat languid. He
therefore walked forward and opened a casement to gain a breath of the
fresher air without.
It was dark and cloudy, and as he stood looking forth a mournful wind
dashed rain-drops into his face.
The part of the palace in which this apartment was situated formed the
extremity of an architectural wing, which was fronted at the distance
of about a hundred feet by a second wing equal in length to the first
and parallel with it. These two wings formed with the main structure
the three sides of a court.
As he casually turned his eyes upon the opposite wing, at the point
where it formed an angle with the main building, Paul thought he
detected a movement on the part of somebody or something about
half-way between the roof and the ground. Straining his eyes to the
utmost, he became convinced that what he saw dimly outlined against
the gray wall was the figure of a man poised in mid-air; for as Paul
could detect no ladder beneath him, he could only come to the
conclusion that the fellow was suspended by a rope.
The man made no attempt to ascend or descend, but continued in the one
position; and as far as Paul could discern in the darkness his arm was
moving to and fro with horizontal motion.
Now just at the place where this man hung there was, as Paul had
observed earlier in the evening, a small window, a window crossed by
iron bars.
A grated window in a palace suggests the idea that the room thus
secured is used for the preservation of things valuable; at any rate
this was Paul's idea. He believed that the fellow was quietly
removing the iron bars with the view of procuring whatever it was that
lay behind them.
It was an extremely hazardous enterprise. True, the man was favored by
the darkness, and by the noise of wind and rain, but at any moment he
was liable to be surprised by the night-watch going its rounds, either
in the courtyard below or on the roof above.
Two sentinels paced the very battlements overlooking this court.
Earlier in the evening Paul had heard their footsteps overhead and
their challenges. Were they asleep? If not, they must be keeping a
very lax watch to permit this man to perform such work under their
very eyes.
Then the truth flashed upon Paul. The man himself was a soldier, one
of the two appointed to patrol this particular part of the roof. The
other was his confederate. Both were engaged in some nefarious work.
Treason was afoot in the palace!
Rejecting his first impulse, which was to steal quietly downstairs and
summon the guard, Paul resolved to tackle the two single-handed. As
there was no staircase from his room to the roof, he determined to
mount to the battlements by means of a water-pipe adjacent to his
window.
Thrusting a loaded pistol within his breast, he stepped out upon the
window-sill, and pulling himself up by the water-pipe silently and
quickly, he clambered over the battlements without detection. Keeping
within an embrasure, he peered out along the roof. There, a few yards
distant, outlined against the sky, was the tall, cloaked figure of a
sentinel leaning upon his rifle and with his eyes turned towards the
grated window.
Paul, glancing in the same direction, could no longer see the man
hanging in mid-air. A faint glow of light stole through the mysterious
window. Hence Paul concluded that the fellow was now within the
chamber occupied upon the matter that had brought him there.
Stealing noiselessly forward, Paul suddenly clapped his hand upon the
sentinel's shoulder, and, pointing to the grated window he cried,--
"Do you intend to arrest that villain, or are you his confederate?"
The sentinel instantly turned, with confusion and guilt written upon
his face. Misled by the uniform, he took Paul for a Czernovese
officer, and as such he was one that must be silenced at all costs,
for it was death to be caught thus in the act of treason.
Lowering his bayonetted rifle to the charge, he made a thrust at
Paul's body. But Paul, on the watch for this movement, sprang aside,
wrested the rifle away, and clubbing it, dealt the fellow a fearful
blow on the head. The sentinel staggered back and dropped to the
pavement, where he lay senseless and still.
Peering over the battlements to learn whether this action on his part
had been observed, Paul was surprised to see a blue light at the
chamber-window. The man was flashing a lantern to and fro, an action
that lasted for a few seconds.
Recovering from his surprise, Paul sped onward, and reached the
battlement to which the rope was attached.
Kneeling within an embrasure and glancing downwards, he perceived a
faint cloud of smoke proceeding from the window.
What was taking place within? Was the fellow setting fire to this part
of the palace?
It was not in Paul's nature to remain inactive while evil was in
progress. He instantly resolved to descend to the chamber for the
purpose of putting a stop to what he could not doubt was nefarious
work. Grasping the rope with both hands, he swung himself downwards,
not neglecting, however, at the same time to keep an eye upon the
window. As soon as his feet touched the sill he drew forth his pistol,
and without pausing to notice what was happening within the room,
without a glance, even, he sent his feet through the space between the
bars, a space barely sufficient to admit the passage of his body.
The room was in darkness,--this much he was conscious of as he shot
forward, and a smell as of smoke hung in the air. Paul fell supine
upon the stone flooring, but he was up again in an instant,
endeavoring to ascertain through the gloom what strange thing had
happened or was happening.
His attention was immediately arrested by a strange voice,--a voice
lowered to a whisper that was full of guilty terror.
"Is that you, Peter? What has brought you down? In God's name make no
noise. Gabor is on guard in the corridor outside."
"Then let Gabor enter," shouted Paul in a voice of thunder. "Ho!
without there! Gabor, Gabor, whoever you may be, here is a prisoner
for you."
Directed by the voice, Paul rushed forward through the darkness, and
with his left hand he clutched the fellow by the throat, intending to
reduce him to submission by pressing the barrel of the pistol to his
forehead. The uplifting of the fellow's arm sent the weapon flying
from Paul's hand, and next moment the two men were grappling savagely
together.
The soldier, for Paul could tell that he was such by the feel of his
uniform, was a powerful fellow, and desperation had now doubled his
strength. He knew that the chamber-door was strong, and that the key
was not in the hands of the sentinels outside; if he could overcome
this present antagonist in the interval that must elapse before the
key could be procured, there was a possibility of his escaping. He
wrestled, therefore, with all the fury of a wild beast.
Locked in each other's arms, the two men swayed backwards and
forwards, and then fell, rolling over and over.
Paul's cry, together with the noise of the scuffle, had attracted the
notice of the guard posted at the end of the corridor leading to this
chamber. The shouting of voices and the running of feet were heard on
the other side of the door.
"Ho! Lasco, off to the captain for the key. The devil's work is going
on within. How have they managed to get inside? Ah, by the window!
Melchior, up to the battlement, and cover the window with your rifle.
See they escape not! Now, Lasco, dolt! dullard! slowbody! don't stand
gaping there. Run for the key. The key, man, the key!"
"The key _is_ here!" cried a deep, powerful voice. And above the oaths
and gasps of his struggling opponent, Paul could hear Zabern's Hessian
boots clattering along the corridor.
"Lasco, quick! Yon lamp! hold it up!" cried the marshal. "Gabor and
Melchior, as I open the door, rush in and cover them with your rifles.
Now!"
The key rattled in the lock; the massive door swung back upon its
hinges, and the two sentinels, eager to learn what was taking place,
rushed in with rifles levelled, ready to fire at any one who should
offer resistance.
They paused in blank amazement at beholding by the light of the lamp
one of their own corps stretched supine and panting, with Paul
Woodville above pinning him to the floor by the throat.
"Why, it's Michael!" cried Gabor.
Even in the midst of his excitement Paul observed that Zabern was
carrying in his hand a sheet of paper which he recognized as his
translation of the cipher despatch.
"In time, thank heaven!" murmured the marshal, from which remark Paul
concluded that the mission of the traitor-sentinel was connected in
some way with Orloff's letter.
"Gabor, Lasco, Melchior, leave us. Close the door; retire to the far
end of the corridor, and on your lives stir not from that spot till I
call."
The three sentinels retired.
"Good-night to Michael!" whispered Gabor to his two comrades. "We
shall never see him again. I know that look in the marshal's eye."
Paul, little the worse for the struggle, released his hold of the
soldier and rose to his feet. But it was beyond the power of the other
to rise. Fear, inspired by the presence of the dark-frowning Zabern,
kept him motionless and mute. He sat the picture of abject terror.
Now that Paul was free to look around, he observed that he was within
a vaulted stone chamber, about twenty feet square, and but scantily
supplied with furniture. In one part there was a small iron chest
fixed to the wall with staples. Paul, by some intuition, divined that
Michael's nefarious attempt was directed against the contents of this
chest.
Zabern made one swift stride towards the coffer, and seemed relieved
at finding it locked.
Turning again, he folded his arms and faced the man with a terrible
frown.
"I shall not ask your object in coming here. You and I both know that.
So you haven't got it?"
Michael made no reply.
"It is still safe?"
Michael remained mute. He seemed literally frozen with terror.
"Why so silent, fellow? Your tongue wagged ever loudest in the
guard-house."
"When I first entered," observed Paul, "smoke hung about the place."
An enthusiastic orator in the Diet had once described Zabern as "the
man who had never known fear." The statement, if true at the time of
the utterance, was certainly not true now. Fear in all its power fell
upon the heart of the marshal as his eye caught sight of a passage in
the paper which he held: "Risk of discovery in transmitting document.
Therefore burn as soon as seized."
"Hell shall seize you, fellow, if you have done so!" he cried. "Did
you come provided with a key, then? Where is it?"
Still Michael made no reply. Zabern, following the direction of his
eyes, perceived a key lying upon the floor. The marshal placed it
within the lock of the chest, turned it, raised the lid, and saw that
the coffer contained nothing but a heap of charred parchment. Zabern,
his mouth drawn in an agony that showed all his white teeth, rose, and
with a dreadful look in his eyes turned slowly round upon the guilty
man.
A cry for mercy rang through the chamber as the marshal sprang forward
with drawn sabre. His was not a 'prentice hand; he knew exactly where
to find the fifth rib. A swift stab,--the fall of a body, and then all
was silent, save for the mournful plash of the rain outside.
Paul was shocked by the ferocity of Zabern's action, which had been
performed with a quickness that left no time for intervention.
"Without a court-martial!" he said, severely. "We act not so in
England."
"I dare not let him live to see those fellows outside again, lest they
should learn from him what he has done. Not a hint as to his deed must
ever get abroad; for he who knows it holds the destiny of Czernova in
the hollow of his hand. Not even to a secret tribunal must the truth
be whispered. And, Captain Woodville," continued Zabern, raising his
dripping sabre with so menacing an air that Paul immediately stepped
backward, and set hand to his own sword-hilt, "if I thought that you
could not hold your peace I would slay you, too."
"What has he done?" asked Paul, impressed by the marshal's strange
manner.
"The blackest deed that could be done against the princess, and one
that has destroyed the liberties of a whole people. Your decipherment
of the secret despatch has come too late to do us good,--too late. Oh!
the bitterness of it, by a few moments only."
"I am still in the dark, marshal."
"On what is the liberty of Czernova based? On the Charter granted to
us by Catherine of Russia. And that Charter is now burnt paper. This
is the first act in the drama. The next will be, as this despatch
shows, the appearance of an envoy from the Czar to demand on what
grounds Czernova, formerly a part of Russian Poland, claims to be
independent. What answer can we give? What title can we show? Without
our Charter we are completely at the mercy of the Czar. His ministers
will loudly affirm that such Charter was never granted, that we have
obtained autonomy by a lying statement, that all extant copies of the
Charter are based upon a mythical document, that its mention in
history is no proof of its past existence. 'Let us see the original,'
will be their cry. 'Produce the autograph signature of the Empress
Catherine.' Now do you understand the crime that this miscreant has
wrought?"
The diabolical nature of the plot struck Paul with a feeling akin to
horror. His thoughts immediately flew to Barbara, sleeping peacefully
at that moment in her distant quarter of the palace, all unconscious
of this new peril that threatened her throne. He felt little pity now
for the slain wretch lying at his feet.
"Why did he not carry off the document to Russia?"
"The secret despatch assigns the reason. It was more expedient to
destroy it as soon as it fell into his hands. The sequel proves the
serpentine wisdom of Orloff. Had this fellow concealed the Charter
upon his own person it would now be in our keeping again. Oh! I could
tear out my eyes for having kept such sorry watch! 'Warden of the
Charter' is one of my titles. A pretty warden, truly! Fortunately you
and I alone know that Russia's plot has succeeded, for those sentries
at the end of the corridor are ignorant of it; in fact they do not
even know that the Charter was kept here, in this, the Eagle Tower."
"I fear, marshal, that there are others who know," said Paul, picking
up a lantern with a blue glass slide. "This was flashed to and fro at
the window,--what else but as a signal to some distant watcher that
the Charter is no more?"
The marshal ground his teeth as he recognized the force of Paul's
inference.
"Then we may expect the Czar's envoy at an early date," he replied.
"This villain," he continued, examining the window, "gained ingress by
removing the concrete in which the bars were embedded,--a task which
must have occupied two or three nights. What were the patrol on the
roof doing to allow of this?"
"He himself was one of the patrol," said Paul, quickly adding, "Ah!
that reminds me. There is a second fellow on the battlements whom I
knocked senseless with his own rifle."
"Another? By heaven, Captain Woodville, you have done wrong in
forgetting him. If he should have escaped with the tidings of what has
been done!"
Zabern darted from the chamber, and, rushing past the three sentinels
standing at the end of the corridor, he ran up a winding staircase
that led to the roof. He was closely followed by Paul. The
traitor-sentry was still lying in the place where Paul had left him.
Zabern's examination did not last a moment.
"He will never play the traitor again," remarked the marshal. "You
have shattered his skull for him. And without a court-martial, too!"
he added, dryly.
Having called up Gabor and his two companions, Zabern directed them to
inter the two bodies, at the same time enjoining the trio to observe
strict secrecy upon the events of that night; after which orders he
proceeded to pace moodily to and fro upon the battlements in company
with Paul, who, puzzled by one circumstance in the affair, sought
enlightenment of the marshal.
"Since Orloff's letter authorizing the plot was not delivered to its
intended recipient but fell into your hands, how comes it that the
plot has nevertheless been carried out?"
"Two messengers may have been sent, each carrying a similar
communication; or it may be that when Russakoff did not return within
an assigned time, Orloff, growing alarmed, despatched a second letter,
which, alas! has produced the desired result."
"Do you believe that the Czar is really accessory to this plot?"
"Accessory? Why not its author?" queried Zabern, ever ready to see in
the Czar the incarnation of wickedness. "There is a Byzantine finesse
about this plot which accords very well with the character of
Nicholas, who has been styled a 'Greek of the Lower Empire.' But
whether accessory or not, be sure that he will avail himself of the
weapon with which the action of his subordinates has supplied him. You
know who works the plot on this side of the Czernovese border."
"The Duke of Bora?"
"Who but he? And yet I still lack decisive proof of his treason. I
fear I acted somewhat too hastily in slaying Michael the guardsman. I
should have endeavored first to extract the names of his principals. I
am without hold upon the duke."
Paul here ventured to remind the marshal of Bora's suspicious conduct
in burning his copy of the poet Æschylus.
"True," replied Zabern, "that the cipher despatch depends for its
solution upon 'The Eumenides,' and equally true that the duke burns a
book containing this same play. But what of that? 'Mere coincidence,'
his defenders would reply. Besides, I dare not bring the duke to
trial, either secretly or openly, upon this charge."
"'I dare not' from the marshal!"
"Why, consider. I should have to proclaim to his judges the startling
fact that Czernova is now without her Charter, a secret that must be
kept concealed from all men; nay, even from the princess herself.
Captain Woodville, let not her Highness know of this loss. She has
political embarrassments enough already. Why should we spring a new
trouble upon her?"
"Count me tongue-tied, marshal, where the princess's peace of mind is
concerned."
Zabern continued to pace backwards and forwards, glancing from time to
time at the translation of the cipher letter which he still held in
his hand, and muttering language, the drift of which was not
altogether clear to Paul.
"What is this? Lipski's measure approved because its success would
justify Russia in annexing Czernova. Ha! so that's the motive that
prompts Lipski's action. His bill is aimed not so much at the Catholic
Church of Czernova as at the Convent of the Transfiguration. Some
inkling of the interior workings of that monastery has reached him,
and he would fain turn the light of publicity upon them. No wonder
that Orloff desires this bill to pass, and that he is sending Lipski
rouble-notes with which to corrupt the Polish members of the Diet.
'Money shall be forwarded by usual route.' Ha! I'll set a watch on
Lipski, and on those who visit him. 'T were no great shame if some of
those rouble-notes should find their way to our own Exchequer. Humph!
Czernova at present is in a truly critical state. But, no matter," he
added, with his face grimly set, "let perils come! They shall find me
equal to them. What said Peter the Great: 'It takes three Jews to
outwit a Russian'? It will take a good many Russians to outwit a
Zabern."