It was dusk when our interview ended, and lighting a cigar I stepped
out through the window into the gardens to think.
The tragic and unutterably sorrowful story which Helga had told me had
filled the cup of my sympathy with her to overflowing, and help her I
vowed I would in some way. But she herself made that help extremely
difficult to plan. If I left the place without giving her some pledge
in my false character as Emperor, she would instantly make use of
those papers, and thus shut the last door upon the chance of his doing
anything.
There was the possibility that if I were to give her some such pledge
I might afterwards be able to get her the interview with the real
Emperor that she desired. But so much further deceit and lying would
be involved that I ruled out the idea at once.
There was also one other feeble way--to get some communication to the
Emperor, telling him the whole thing, and leaving him to act. But while
such a plan might possibly do good, it was much more likely to do harm.
Prince Kalkov would be immediately consulted--and then the deluge. It
was more than probable, indeed, that any message or communication from
me would be intercepted by him. So that notion had to go after the
other.
Helga’s stubborn refusal to believe that I was no more than just a
private individual was of course the bed rock of the mess, and nothing
that I had said or done had shaken her belief in the least. Nothing
seemed likely to do it, moreover, short of getting the Emperor to stand
shoulder to shoulder with me so that she might see us together.
There was, further, the to me unendurable risk of leaving her alone at
Brabinsk to face the danger from these wretched Nihilist fanatics. Had
the other parts of the problem been capable of solution, that alone
would have kept me by her side.
Of all the tests to which a man’s nerve may be subjected, few can be
more terrible than the fear of secret assassination. But there is one,
and I ran up against it there. To know that there are a number of
human wild beasts planning to put a bullet in your head or a knife in
your heart is bad enough, but it is infinitely worse when you feel,
as I did, that if they failed to do that for me they would probably
endeavour to do it for the woman I loved.
And thus I paced the lawn in a mood of intense embarrassment,
complicated with a double fear for my own life and for Helga’s.
With that thought in my mind I had a good look round the house. It was,
as Boreski had said in his letter, a good place for taking precautions.
A square solid stone building, with all the lower windows protected by
bars or heavy shutters, and it would be as difficult to break into it
as to get out of it.
In my mood then I had a keen appreciation of its strength, and I came
back to the front again feeling very thankful to the man who had
planned and built it.
It was a dead still evening. The twilight had faded very quickly, and
when I had been smoking and worrying myself for about an hour, without
getting an inch nearer to any solution of the problem Helga had set me,
my ears, which are very keen, caught a sound in the distance.
It was very faint, but before it ceased I recognized the beat of a
horse’s hoofs.
I was in a nervously high strung condition, and as I knew that there
was no house near enough for me to be able to hear any one who might be
driving or riding up to it, I tossed my cigar away and drew back into
some bushes to wait for what might be to come.
It might be just a messenger from Boreski, or even Boreski himself;
or, on the other hand, I persuaded myself very easily, it might spell
danger. In either case I could do no harm by keeping a watch.
Clearly it was not Boreski, or any one from him, as in that case he
would have ridden right up to the house. My ears might have deceived
me, of course; but I was conscious of what some people term a creepy
sensation as I accepted the other conclusion--that the matter did bode
danger of some kind.
I was right too. I stood as still as a statue on my sentry go, and
after some minutes I heard a light crunch of gravel under stealthily
treading feet and saw a man creeping warily toward the house.
At the same moment I caught a glimpse of Helga. I could see from my
place through the open window of the room where we had sat. I saw her
enter the room, glance about her in surprise at not finding me there,
and then cross to the window and peer into the dark garden.
The man at the gate saw her too, and drew back quickly. A very
significant indication.
Helga stood a moment at the window, and then stepped out on to the
verandah that ran along the house and looked about her as if seeking
me. But I gave no sign of my presence, of course; and after a while she
went back through the window, leaving it open, crossed the room with a
quick step, and passed out of my line of sight.
Soon afterwards the man crept very cautiously and almost silently a
short distance up the gravel walk, pausing at every step and looking
about him as if to make certain he was unobserved.
When he was quite close to me he stopped, and I recognized him. It was
Paul Drexel. For a moment a hundred possibilities connected with his
visit at such a time and in such fashion rushed into my mind, and I was
on the point of darting from my hiding-place and seizing him, when he
turned and made a signal.
Following his gaze, I saw that two other men had entered the grounds
and stood mute and motionless until he waved to them, when they crept
up to his side. Then all three got on to the grass, well in the shadow
of the trees, and held a whispered consultation.
I could not, of course, catch a word they said, but I saw them point to
the open window; and when the consultation ended two of them stole like
shadows round the skirt of the lawn under cover of the trees to the
window, in front of which both lay flat on the ground.
Then Drexel crept back a short distance, paused, turned and walked up
the gravel, with intentionally noisy and heavy steps, to the house door.
It did not require the instincts of a Vidocq to know that some very
ugly business was on foot; and while Drexel was getting admitted to the
house, I was trying to consider what the thing boded and what I had
best do.
In point of fact I did nothing--about the wisest course, as it turned
out. To have moved from my hiding-place would only have scared away the
two men lying prone by the verandah, and so long as I knew of their
presence and they were ignorant of mine, I had the best end of the
stick.
I made a pretty cute guess at the meaning of the visit. Drexel had no
doubt gone to the villa with the men in the hope of finding me still
there, and had learnt by some means of my coming to Brabinsk.
The stroke was aimed at me I felt, and there was less alarm for me
in that thought than if it had been directed against Helga. For the
time, at any rate, there would be no danger to her, and as I was thus
forewarned I could take my own measures.
It is a somewhat skeary thing to have to think out plans to circumvent
men who mean to assassinate you, and to realize, as I did, very
clearly, how much must hang upon your not making a false step.
As I stood like a statue in the shadows of the trees, I had time to
think things out a bit. I had my revolver in my pocket, and I came to
the conclusion quite deliberately that if there was any shooting to be
done I would let no one get the drop on me, and I would certainly shoot
to kill. I had twice in my life had very narrow escapes from death
through hesitating in the face of a crisis, and this was not going to
be a third time. Some minutes--ten perhaps--lapsed after Drexel was
admitted to the house before anything happened, and all the while the
men by the house lay as still as death. Although I knew just about
where they were, I could not see their dark forms on the ground.
Then Helga entered the room into which I could see, and Drexel followed
her. The instant he was inside he shut the door and put his back
against it.
Helga seemed perfectly calm and self-possessed, and when he spoke with
much gesture, as if excusing himself, she replied with contemptuous
indifference, mingled with little shafts of indignation.
The conversation lasted some time, until one of the two men outside
lifted his head, so that it came between me and the light from the
window, and listened. Then he and his companion, still lying prone,
drew themselves cautiously up on to the verandah and lay close to the
open window.
Themselves unseen, they were watching intently what passed within the
room, and listening to every syllable that was spoken by Helga and
Drexel.
So absorbed were the two spies, and so utterly unsuspicious of my
presence, that I might have risked closing in upon them, had it not
been that the broad drive lay between me and them and the slightest
sound of the gravel under my footsteps would have spoilt everything.
I chafed at the enforced inaction, but the issues were those of life
and death, and I dared not take such a risk. Helga’s life, as well as
mine, was in the balance.
At last the minutes of inaction were at an end.
Both men, as if at some signal from Drexel, sprang to their feet and
stepped into the room, and I saw the flashing look of anger from Helga
at their entrance.
The noise they made in entering gave me the chance I wanted. Two or
three light springing tiptoe leaps put me across the drive, and I
hurried over the smooth lawn with eager feet, drawing out my revolver
as I ran, until, imitating their tactics, I lay full length on the
ground in full sight and within earshot of all that went on in the room.
I soon had evidence then of the deadly business on which the men had
come.
“I tell you he is not in the house.”
It was Helga’s voice, of course, and she was facing the three men with
dauntless courage in voice, look, and manner.
“It is useless to say that, mademoiselle. We know he is here, and call
upon you in the name of the brotherhood to give him up to us. It is
more than your life is worth to refuse.”
The speaker was seemingly the leader, and his deep vibrating bass voice
rolled through the room in tones of intense earnestness.
“Have you ever known me tell you a lie, M. Vastic?” This, then, was the
reckless Nihilist himself.
“Do you deny he has been here?”
“An American, M. Denver, has been here; but left this house more than
an hour since.”
“To go where?” The question came like a sharp stern command.
“I do not know.”
“He is the man we seek. You know that. Do you dare to trifle with us?”
“I allow no one to address me in that tone,” said Helga proudly. “I
have told you the truth.”
The man turned to Drexel, who I saw was very pale.
“You are sure this man who calls himself Denver is the Emperor. If you
have lied, you will answer to me.”
“Ask mademoiselle,” said the cowardly cur.
“Mademoiselle, what say you?”
“That the man this--this carrion spy speaks of”--and she turned such a
look on Drexel that he winced--“is Mr. Denver, an American. And if he
were the Emperor, M. Vastic, and I knew where he was at this moment,
you are the last man on earth I would tell.”
“I need no other evidence,” was the threatening reply. “I give you two
minutes in which to tell me where to find him. If you refuse, you will
suffer the consequences. You know the penalty of shielding one whom the
brotherhood has sentenced. Say when the time is passed,” he ordered his
comrade, and to enforce his threat he drew a revolver.
Helga gave no sign of flinching, but met his stern gaze with one to the
full, as steady and resolute.
“You can murder me if you will. I do not know,” she said firmly. Not a
change of colour, no quiver of the lip, nor tremor of a finger showed
her courage to be shaken, or her purpose weakened by the ordeal.
But it was different with me and I made ready to take up my part in
the scene. I calculated precisely what to do. The second man was near
enough to the window for me to strike him down as I entered, and I drew
myself to my feet in readiness.
But at that moment he moved to speak to Vastic. He spoke in a whisper
and seemed to expostulate. But the leader remained unmoved by what he
said, and the second man with a shrug of the shoulders stepped back to
his former place.
Helga watched the short whispered conference closely, but gave no sign
of any feeling, momentous as the import was to her.
Drexel was, however, growing deeply agitated. His face was as white as
salt, great beads of perspiration were on his forehead, his lips were
quivering, and he clenched and unclenched his hands with quick nervous
movements.
The turn of affairs had appalled him.
“M. Vastic,” he began in low hoarse trembling voice.
“Silence, M. Drexel,” thundered the leader. “This is now my affair. It
is your part to obey. Now, mademoiselle, the time is run out. I give
you a last chance to be----”
The sentence was never finished, for as he spoke Helga gave a great
cry, and I dashed through the window, dealt the man near me a blow on
the head with my revolver which felled him, and the next moment I had
Vastic covered.
“Hands up, you. I’ve heard what you said,” I cried.
“M. Denver,” exclaimed Drexel.
Vastic turned on me instantly, full of fight, and with the quickness of
light raised his revolver to take aim.
It was his life or mine, and without a second’s hesitation I fired and
shot him.
The fraction of a second decided it. His pistol went off almost
simultaneously. But the bullet went wide, for mine was in his brain,
and he was already staggering.
There was a scuffle behind me, and another shot was fired by the man I
had knocked down. I turned on him, but he was too quick for me and with
a cry sprang out into the darkness.
Drexel meanwhile had opened the room door to fly.
“Come back, you, Drexel, or I’ll fire,” I cried, covering him. He came
back trembling like the cur he was. “Close the window, Helga, and have
some help here.”
She was shutting the window when the servants, with Ivan at their head,
came in, having heard the pistol shots.
“Have that man held, Ivan,” I said, pointing to Drexel, who indeed was
in a state bordering on collapse, “and go instantly in search of a man
who has just fled. Quick, as you care for your mistress’s life.”
I bent over Vastic and laid my hand on his heart.
When I looked up Helga was standing by me.
“He is dead,” I said in reply to her glance.
“My God!” The cry forced itself between her pressed lips.
“Have the body taken somewhere for the present,” I ordered one of the
servants, “and then see that every door and window in the house is
safely bolted. I will speak to you presently,” I added to Helga, who
was now trembling. “I must question this man,” and laying a heavy hand
on Drexel’s shoulder, I led him into another room.