“YOUR OPPONENT IS AN EMPEROR”
The unmasking of the guests was followed by a simultaneous movement
toward the supper-tables, set forth in an adjoining room, a room scarcely
inferior in size and grandeur to the Hall of Mirrors.
Tormented by the thought of the Princess, Wilfrid was in no trim
for eating, even when the far-famed Sumaroff _cuisine_ offered its
temptations.
Having satisfied himself that neither Marie nor the Crusading knight
was among the guests, he withdrew from the palace, having first sent to
Pauline a servant with a brief note, in which, without stating the cause,
he expressed regret at finding it impossible to escort her home.
It was now past two o’clock. He had by eight of the clock to be at a
spot distant six miles from the city, and in the interval he must find a
second, and try to snatch a short repose. He had no time to waste.
Making his way to the entrance of the Sumaroff Palace he procured a car
and drove to his hotel, where he changed his antique garb for one more
modern, and this done, he went off at once to the British Embassy, with a
view of getting one of his uncle’s secretaries to act as his second.
“Unless indeed the old boy himself will volunteer, which isn’t very
likely,” thought Wilfrid. “He’d be compromising his diplomatic office.”
On reaching the Embassy Wilfrid learned that, late as the hour was, the
“old boy” had not yet gone to bed, but was sitting alone in his study.
Making his way thither Wilfrid found the Ambassador seated at a table,
upon which, in addition to cigars and wine, was a very large parchment
with seals attached thereto, and bearing every appearance of being an
important State document.
“Pouf! windows closed and curtains drawn this hot July night?” said
Wilfrid, glancing at the heavily-draped casements.
“Put your head out of the window, and you’ll soon scent the reason.
Fontanka Canal below. What do the Russian Government mean by putting me
in this malodorous hole? Damme! they’ll have to find me fresh quarters.
See my new Diana over there? Winkelman! Bought it yesterday. Cost seven
hundred roubles—think it’s worth it?” And then, seeing Wilfrid’s eyes
attracted by the document upon the table, he continued, “Ah! the editor
of the _Journal de St. Petersbourg_ would give much for a copy of this.”
“It is, I presume——?”
“A duplicate of the secret Anglo-Russian Treaty of Peace. I am studying
it for the twentieth time. Must leave no loophole for the enemy to creep
through.”
“The Czar hasn’t signed it yet?”
“He signs to-morrow night, or rather, as it’s long past midnight, to-day.
And yet,” continued the Ambassador, a queer look coming over his face,
“and yet—who knows?—he may never sign it.”
“His autocratic Majesty is so changeable?”
“No, but life is. The Czar may be dead by to-morrow.”
“For the matter of that so may I,” remarked Wilfrid, thinking of the
coming duel. “So may you; so may all of us.”
“Ah! but in the Czar’s case there is special cause for fear. But there!
I’m talking too fast. I mustn’t betray State secrets.”
This assumption of reticence was a mere preliminary to disclosure, as
Wilfrid very well knew. The Ambassador had a tale to unfold, and was
burning to unfold it, and, anxious as Wilfrid was to get to the subject
of the coming duel, he was not unwilling to be a listener, impressed by
his uncle’s air of subdued excitement.
“It was told to me in confidence,” continued Lord St. Helens, “but I
see no reason why I should not tell you. The story is certain to be made
public property within four and twenty hours. Well, here it is then.
Like the rest of the diplomatic body, I received an invitation to this
Sumaroff fête, and looked in for a short time just before supper; and am
not sorry at having gone, for there, in spite of his mask, I recognised
my old friend Panine. He was in a state of great agitation, caused by
something he had just heard from Alexander.”
“Alexander was at the fête, then?”
“Of course he was.”
“Prince Sumaroff publicly announced that he wasn’t.”
“Never believe public announcements—in Russia. He _was_ there, but
retired before supper-time. As you will see he had very good reason for
wishing to be alone with his thoughts. Talking of Alexander, I suppose
you know that he was married when only sixteen years old—that is, at an
age scarcely capable of forming a just judgment. As a matter of fact he
had no voice in the choosing of his wife; she was chosen for him by his
grandmother Catharine, and our poor Alexander had no alternative but to
obey.
“It is obvious that a marriage of this sort, contracted for political
reasons merely, cannot yield that happiness arising from a union based
on mutual affection. Far be it from me to speak one word adverse to the
young Czarina Elizavetta; she is beautiful, she is charming, she is good;
but still, you know the remark of the old Roman to the persons who were
praising his wife: ‘This to you may seem an excellent sandal,’ he said,
taking it off. ‘I alone know where it pinches.’ So of the Czarina. To us
she may seem an ideal consort; Alexander alone knows where the sandal
pinches.”
“It is easy to see to what all this is preliminary.”
“Just so. The usual result when kings are forced to mate from policy. Our
Alexander looks round to find a companion more to his taste.”
“And the lady’s name?”
“Is a secret unknown to Panine, and therefore to me.”
“Has the intrigue reached a guilty stage?—but no, it cannot have.”
Lord St. Helens wondered at the husky voice and at the strange look with
which his nephew put this question.
“Panine thinks not. In fact, judging from what happened to-night at the
masquerade, it must be inferred that the love is on the Czar’s side only.”
“Why, what _did_ happen?”
“A masquerade, as you know, affords excellent facilities for an intrigue.
The Czar, aware that his inamorata would be at this fête, determined
himself to be present He came without state, masked, and costumed, and
sought eagerly, as we may suppose, for his lady-love, and at last found
her.”
“Alone?”
“Hardly. She was with another man, and—one can scarcely refrain from
smiling—the pair were in the act of kissing each other as the Czar came
upon them.”
“How did you learn this?”
“It was witnessed by Panine.”
“By Panine!” repeated Wilfrid.
“He was meditatively walking amid a grove of trees when he happened to
see the lady bestow a kiss upon a gentleman, no unusual occurrence at a
masquerade, but this affair began to assume a serious aspect when there
stepped forth into the moonlight a figure whom Panine recognised to be
that of the Emperor. At sight of him the lady instantly fled as if in
fear, leaving the Emperor and the man together.
“An animated conversation followed, inaudible to Panine, who, out of
respect, kept his distance, nor did he venture forward till the man had
left the Czar’s presence.
“‘Count,’ began Alexander—I repeat Panine’s words to me as nearly as I
can remember them—‘Count, you know that in the abstract I am opposed to
duelling; but occasionally it may happen that a gentleman has no other
way of defending his honour. Now there is a certain man who wishes to
fight a duel to-morrow. As his cause is just, will you do him the favour
of acting as his second?’
“Panine, naturally concluding that the Czar’s recent interlocutor was the
man referred to, made reply:—
“‘Your Majesty’s command is my pleasure.’
“‘You promise to be this man’s second?’
“‘Most certainly, Sire.’
“‘Look to it, then, that you keep your word,’ said Alexander with a face
sterner than Panine had ever before seen it, ‘for _I_ am the duellist.
Honour leaves me no alternative but to fight. Stop! no words, I pray
you. I know beforehand what you would say; that, if any one offends me,
it is within my power to banish, to imprison, to execute the offender.
Granted: but that were an ignoble vengeance. None hereafter shall say
that Alexander took advantage of his position in order to slay a rival.
The man must die, and his death shall come by my hand in fair and open
fight. I waive my imperial prerogative, and meet him as one gentleman,
when affronted, should meet another. My opponent’s name?—let it remain a
secret. The rendezvous? Well, that you’ll learn when we set out. Be at
the palace at seven this morning ready to attend me. And, as you value
your life, not a word of this to any one.’ And with that the Emperor
strode away.”
“Did Panine tell his tale to any besides you?”
“When I left him he was in doubt whether or not to communicate it to his
fellow ministers.”
“And he doesn’t know who the Czar’s opponent is?”
“Hasn’t the least notion. The man was masked, you see.”
“But his costume should serve to identify him.”
“It would, if Panine could remember what the fellow wore. I should very
much like to know the name of the man. To cut the Czar out in love, and
then to stand up to him in a duel! Gad! the fellow must have the audacity
of the devil!”
“Audacity, my dear uncle, was always the mark of a Courtenay.”
For a moment the Ambassador stared blankly at Wilfrid; then the truth
burst upon him.
“Good God!” he gasped! “You don’t mean that—that——!”
“The Czar’s opponent is distant from you by no more than the length of a
table.”
It would not be true to say that Lord St. Helens’s hair rose on end, but
it very nearly accomplished that feat.
“I accepted the challenge to-night,” continued Wilfrid, “from a masked
stranger, whose anger apparently had been kindled at seeing me receive a
kiss from a certain lady. The fellow refused his name, but from his voice
I took him to be Prince Ouvaroff. It seems now that I was wrong, and that
my opponent is a much more august character.”
Overwhelmed by the startling news the Ambassador could do nothing for
a few moments but gaze in a sort of speechless terror at his nephew.
Finding his voice at last he said: “This is a devilishly awkward affair.
Let me know how it all happened?”
Wilfrid related the whole story from his first meeting with Baranoff in
Berlin down to that night’s scene at the masquerade, adding:—
“How was I to know it was the Czar? He talked exactly like an ordinary
mortal. You told me yesterday that it was Ouvaroff’s intention to pick a
quarrel with me, and as the stranger had a voice very like Ouvaroff’s I
naturally concluded——”
“Alexander and Ouvaroff are half-brothers, as you know. Their voices
_are_ very similar. Now, what’s to be done in this matter?” continued the
Ambassador with a thoughtful regard for his nephew’s safety.
“My first care must be to communicate with Panine. It will relieve him to
know that the duel will not come off.”
“But why shouldn’t it come off?”
“Your opponent is an emperor.”
“And are not we Courtenays the descendants of emperors? ‘Equal to
Cæsars,’ is not that our motto?”
“Come! this is mere bravado. You cannot really be serious in saying you
will fight the Czar.”
“The Archangel Gabriel himself, if he came between me and the woman
I love. It is easy to see how matters stand with the Princess. She
hates the Czar’s addresses, but does not know how to repel them. And
diplomatists like you would bid me stand aside and let him work his
libertine will with the sweet lady who loves me, because, forsooth, he
is a Czar, between whom and me an awful gulf is fixed! Czar me no Czar!
On this condition only will I withdraw, that he hands the Princess over
to me; if not, he fights.”
Lord St. Helens became full of dismay, as he realised that Wilfrid was
perfectly serious in his utterance. If Alexander were equally determined
there was no power on earth to stay the duel; and since Wilfrid had no
peer in swordsmanship, what but ill would befall the Czar in a mortal
combat? In cooler moments Wilfrid might not wish to kill the Emperor, but
in the hot excitement of the duel, when he saw before him the man who was
persecuting the Princess with unwelcome attentions, there was no knowing
what might happen, especially if Wilfrid’s anger should be aggravated by
the smarting of a wound.
“And pray, sir,” said the Ambassador after vainly expostulating with his
nephew, “pray, sir, who is to be your second in this infamous business?”
“I am going to ask _you_ to officiate in that capacity.”
The Ambassador felt as if he were choking.
“Go to Gehenna!” he yelled.
“You won’t? What will the family think when they hear that you have
refused to stand by me in an affair of honour. Who’s to conduct my
funeral if I fall?”
“I’d be most infernally happy to conduct your funeral at this present
moment. Cease this foolery, and talk sense—if you can. Should this freak
end in the wounding or it may be, the killing of the Czar—which heaven
forbid!—to whom do you intend to look for safety?”
“To you, of course.”
“To me?”
“Most certainly. Doesn’t the nation pay you £10,000 a year to look after
British subjects in Russia, of whom I am one?”
“_I_ to protect you?”
“If you don’t the British public will want to know the reason! Remember
that the duel is not of _my_ seeking; he challenged me, not I him. In an
autocratic realm what can a man do when its ruler insists on fighting
him? It’s useless to go against the will of a fellow who can send you to
Siberia for disobedience. And if he fall, whose is the blame?” “Well, I
must be off,” continued Wilfrid, glancing at his watch; “but before going
I should like—of course, with your permission—to see young Mulgrave,”
naming his uncle’s chief secretary. “He is a man of spirit, and will
stand by me in this affair.”
“Do you think——?” began the Ambassador angrily, and then broke off as if
hit by some sudden thought. “Well, I’ll send for him, and you’ll hear
what he thinks. Perhaps you’ll listen to him, if not to me.”
He pencilled a few words upon a card and touched a hand-bell, whose chime
immediately brought in a servitor in livery. Handing him the card, and
pointing to the name upon it, the Ambassador said with a meaning look,
“Tell him to come at once.”
The man had no sooner set eyes upon the card than he gave a slight start,
glanced oddly at Wilfrid, and withdrew without a word.
“Oho, my uncle,” thought Wilfrid, who had observed this little by-play,
“why did you give a written message, when an oral one would have
sufficed? There is something on that card you do not wish me to see. Very
good! Forewarned is forearmed.”
After a brief interval there came a tapping at the door.
“Wait a moment, Williams,” cried Lord St. Helens. “Stay outside till I
call.”
“Williams? Why, I thought it was Mulgrave you sent for?” said Wilfrid in
mock surprise.
Ignoring this question, the Ambassador said with a stern air:—
“I am to take it, then, that you have quite made up your mind to fight
this duel?”
“Certainly.”
“Well, I have made up my mind that you shall not.”
“And how do you propose to stop me?”
“You are not in Russia now, remember. This Embassy is Great Britain,
or rather, a part of Great Britain in Russia. As the representative
of His Majesty King George, I am, so long as you are in this house,
your sovereign, and you are my subject. In the exercise of my lawful
authority——”
“You’ll put me under arrest,” said Wilfrid, smiling amiably. “Yes, I
thought that was the idea when you sent out that little note.”
Somewhat disconcerted at Wilfrid’s guessing his intention, and uneasy,
too, at his air of unconcern, the Ambassador called out: “Come in.”
At the summons there trooped in five athletic men, lackeys apparently.
Their attire, consisting of shirt and breeches only, showed that they had
been hastily roused from sleep. They advanced a little way into the room,
and then stood still, awaiting orders. Wondering what the trouble was
about, they glanced alternately from the flushed uncle to the cool nephew.
“This madman,” said Lord St. Helens, indicating Wilfrid, who bowed
sarcastically, “my nephew, I regret to say, is an enemy to Great Britain.
In the name of the King, I call upon you to arrest him and to take
him to the Green Chamber, where he must remain till he has renounced
his treasonable designs. Sorry, Wilfrid, my boy,” he added, in a side
whisper; “but I’ve no other course. Go quietly, like a sensible fellow,”
he added, as he saw the fighting spirit gleam from Wilfrid’s eye. “You
can’t contend against five men.”
But Wilfrid, having formed his plan, proceeded to act. The only light in
the room came from the six tapers in the chandelier above his head. As
the five men moved slowly forward, Wilfrid, with one swift bound, sprang
aloft and hung his whole weight upon the chandelier. Down it came in an
instant, and almost before it reached the floor he had extinguished the
six lights by the easy process of flinging the table-cloth over them.
By this action, the work of not more than four seconds, the room was
plunged into sudden darkness.
“Look to the door,” screamed the Ambassador.
Tumbling over each other in their haste the five raced back, and ranged
themselves in fighting order before the door, the only exit from the room.
In the dead silence that followed, the Ambassador and his satellites
strained eye and ear, endeavouring to discover by sight or sound what
Wilfrid’s next movement would be.
They had not long to wait.
From the far end of the apartment there suddenly darted intermittent
rays of light, apparently caused by the wavering of a heavy curtain that
draped one of the windows overlooking the canal. Simultaneously all were
seized with the same idea. Wilfrid was going to—
Crash!
The sound was like that of a sheet of glass shivered to atoms by the
impact of a heavy body, and was instantly followed by the splash of water.
“Good God! He’s leaped into the Fontanka, through glass and all,” cried
the Ambassador.
Men falling into that shallow canal have been known never to rise again
from its deep deposit of mud!
The Ambassador ran to the window, thrusting the heavy curtain on one
side. Moved by a common impulse, the five men ran too.
The Ambassador unfastened the catch, flung open the window, and, with
his body half out, looked down upon the water, whose surface had upon it
a rippling ring that grew wider and wider each moment, a ring obviously
caused by the fall of a body.
The watchers kept their eyes fixed upon the centre of this ring, waiting
for Wilfrid’s head to appear. The circle spread outward farther and
farther, till it became imperceptible to the sense of sight. The surface
of the water grew smooth again; one minute passed, two, three, and still
Wilfrid was not to be seen, nor any trace of him.
“By God! he’s gone! Caught in the mud at the bottom,” said the Ambassador
in awe-struck tones.
“Still alive, dear uncle!” said a voice, coming from the direction of the
door.
So deep was the amazement of the Ambassador and his lackeys at hearing
the voice of one whom they had just taken for dead that for the moment
they were powerless to do anything except to stare, vacant-eyed and
open-mouthed, at Wilfrid’s smiling face, which in the dim light could be
seen peeping in at them from the other side of the half-open door.
“I knew that crash would fetch ’em from the door. Your attempt to
imprison me, dear uncle, has cost you seven hundred roubles, for your
marble Diana is lying at the bottom of the Fontanka. Well, good-bye! I’m
off to that meeting!”
Recovering from their stupor, the five men, mortified at being thus
fooled, rushed forward, too late, however, to repair their blunder.
During their three minutes’ watch at the window, Wilfrid had quietly
removed the key from the inner side of the room to the outer, and before
his foes had time to reach him, he shut the door, locked it, put the key
in his pocket, walked downstairs, and escaped safely to the street.