As soon as Helga was gone I sent for Ivan, and told him to have
everything in readiness for the start in three hours’ time; and that of
course he would go with us.
“Where are we going, monsieur?” he asked.
“I don’t know. You spoke of some places where mademoiselle could
safely lie hid for a while. Which is the safest and nearest to
Petersburg?”
“There is a house in the city itself, in the Square of San Sophia,
monsieur; quite safe, if the mademoiselle will adopt her old disguise.”
“What disguise is that?”
“A Sister of Charity, monsieur.”
“Is it safe from both the police and the brotherhood?”
“Quite, monsieur.”
“Then we could go there. Is it ready for her?”
“I can send on a carriage with a couple of the women.”
“Good; then see to it at once.”
“But if we leave here, there is one thing, monsieur. Have you
forgotten--the body of Vastic?”
“Yes, indeed, I had forgotten. Go and see to the other things, and I’ll
think what to do.”
It was a prickly problem in truth. To leave it at Brabinsk appeared
out of the question; to bury it and try to hush the thing up equally
impossible; and to take it with us to the city more hazardous than
either. He threatened to be as much trouble to us dead as alive, and I
smoked a cigar and tried to think the thing out.
My intention was to make a clean breast of the matter to Kalkov,
leaving him and his police to do what they liked; and I did not doubt
they would find little difficulty in arranging matters.
But where should I tell them to look for the body? To bring them after
it to Brabinsk would only put them on the scent after Helga, a result
full of dangerous possibilities.
Yet how to get it away? It occurred to me that Ivan and I might carry
it off some miles from the house and hide it in a wood or pond or
somewhere; but the personal risks attending such a venture were too
considerable, and in a way unnecessary.
Thus in the end I was driven back upon the decision to leave it at
Brabinsk; and Ivan and I had to undertake the exceedingly gruesome and
revolting task of burying it under the floor of a distant out-house.
I shall not readily forget that experience. Ivan was cool enough; but
for my part I felt nearly as bad as any murderer could have felt when
seeking to hide the body of his victim; and when I got back to the
house, a stiff glass of brandy was necessary to enable me to shake off
the feeling of chilly horror.
Then I had to plan my further movements. Roughly, my intention was to
get back to the Palace and obtain an audience of the Emperor at the
earliest possible moment, and beg him to see Helga.
Prince Kalkov I did not wish to see until after that. I took Helga’s
view of matters, and believed that if she could get the story of her
father’s ruin straight to the Emperor, before the Duchess Stephanie
could influence him, she would succeed in working upon his old
friendship for her father sufficiently at least to cause some kind of
investigation into the affair.
But in that we should have to reckon with Prince Kalkov, of course;
and he would be an ugly enemy. Fight he would, naturally, to the last
gasp; and his influence, position, and parts would ensure that such a
struggle would be a desperate one. It was like challenging the whole
force of the Government; and however good our case might be, there were
a hundred things likely to arise to defeat us.
When I am trying to think out a course coolly, I have an unfortunate
knack of seeing all the dangers and obstacles through a kind of mental
magnifying glass; and I saw so many now, and they all appeared so great
that I could only regard our chances as little short of hopeless.
Then added to everything was this infernal Nihilist complication. Not
only would it afford Kalkov a lever of tremendous power against Helga,
but it threatened to dog our every movement with perilous personal risk.
It was in this respect that Vastic’s death was so threatening. The
instant I told Kalkov of it he would be in possession of the fact that
Helga was implicated with the brotherhood. He would recognize in a
moment the importance to him of denouncing his accuser as a Nihilist of
the Nihilists, and would find or invent a thousand proofs in support of
the charge; and her whole case would be instantly tainted and ruined.
The one thin slender chance of averting this catastrophe was to hide
the fact that Helga Boreski the Nihilist and Helga the daughter of
Prince Lavalski, the Emperor’s former friend, were identical; but even
this forlorn hope would be cut off when the Duchess Stephanie got to
the Emperor and told her story. Boreski himself knew all about it, and
in all probability had told his wife.
Still, whatever we might attempt, there were big risks, and we must
be content to take them and deal with them as they threatened us. The
first consideration was to get at the Emperor before the Duchess and
strike the first blow.
A glance at Helga’s face when she came down told me she had not slept.
She was very pale. I told her where we were going, and added--
“You have not taken my advice and got some sleep.”
“I wish to speak to you earnestly a moment. I have been thinking. You
must not do this thing for me.”
“I will give it up on one condition--only one.”
“What is that?”
“That you give it up also, and, instead of going back to Petersburg,
you cross the frontier with me!”
“That you know is impossible;” and her face clouded.
“Come, then; and don’t keep the carriage waiting.”
“But if you are to run this risk, it will be so much harder for me. I
cannot bear it.”
“So long as you remain on this side of the frontier I remain too; so
that you’ll have to bear it, I’m afraid;” and I took her out to the
carriage in which Madame Korvata was already shivering in the nipping
morning air. That good lady was not in a pleasant temper, moreover, at
having been dragged from her bed at such an early hour; and as she did
not know all that had occurred, and was not fully in our confidence,
Helga and I could not speak much during the long drive.
Helga lay back in her seat most of the time wrapped in thought, and
I on my side was equally absorbed; but once, when Madame Korvata had
fallen asleep, we exchanged a few words.
“I am going straight to the Palace,” I told her; “and shall do my
utmost to get to the Emperor at once. If I am successful I shall send
immediately for you.”
“You will not succeed. Prince Kalkov will not let you,” she replied.
“I hope to evade him altogether.”
“He is a vigilant watchdog, and all those about the Palace are at his
beck and in his service.”
“Then I shall try to hoodwink him. I know I can get to His Majesty.
What you have to do is to be prepared with all the proof of Kalkov’s
infamy--all particulars, so as to hit right home at once, and as hard
as possible.”
“Do not be afraid that I shall fail at such a moment--if it ever comes.”
“It will come. It shall,” I said firmly. “But there is another thing.
If we get our chance and yet fail--what then?”
She looked at me and paused before replying.
“If I could answer your question as you wish, I would. But I shall
never give in. Nothing will ever satisfy me but victory.”
“All the greater reason, then, for me to do my utmost now,” I answered;
but she saw I was disappointed at her reply.
“No. It is the greater reason for you to abandon the attempt and leave
me to fight on in my own way.”
“That is not how we Americans fight.”
“But in America you know nothing of the conditions of such a trouble as
this. You do not yet know the risks you run. If we attack Prince Kalkov
and fail, do you think he will not know how to wreak his revenge upon
us--upon all concerned? Ah, monsieur, what can a Republican know of the
ways of Russia?”
“I’m beginning to get an insight, at least,” I said lightly.
“You fight with your votes over there, and risk perhaps some of your
money; but here the stakes are human life and liberty. God help us.”
She spoke so vehemently that Madame Korvata awoke, and our
conversation ended.
When we neared the city I told Helga I should not drive with her to her
destination, and asked her to tell me exactly the location of the house.
“Every one knows the Square of San Sophia--close to the cathedral. The
house is called the Retreat, and was formerly a mission house. A small
red-brick building in the north-east corner.”
I took out a scrap of paper and scribbled the words “Retreat, Square of
San Sophia, N.E. corner.”
“You are not writing it down. It is dangerous to write addresses, my
friend,” said Helga cautiously as I put it in my pocket.
It was a very small thing, but it startled me. I seemed to feel, as it
were, the first chill of the atmosphere of intrigue which the simple
caution suggested.
“It is in English, and no eyes but my own will ever see it,” I said.
“Yet it is dangerous,” she repeated. “You are not in America.”
“Perhaps you are right. I’ll tear it up;” and I took out what I thought
was the paper, tore it up, and was flinging the pieces out of the
carriage when Helga again stopped me, and smiled.
“Not all in one place. You have not been reared in this school, my
friend. It is safer to burn papers which tell tales.”
“The pieces with the writing on are gone already,” I said, glancing at
those still in my fingers. “See, these are blanks.”
“It may not matter, but caution can never be exaggerated.”
I tossed the remaining fragments away, and tried to regard the incident
as neither important in itself nor significant of anything serious. But
Helga’s evidently sincere earnestness affected me; and the bothersome
trifle was in my thoughts when I left the carriage soon afterwards, and
she renewed her injunctions to me to be cautious.
“Do not deceive yourself,” she said very earnestly as we parted. “I
know you will do your best for me; I believe it with all my heart. But
you do not understand these things--and we may never meet again.”
“If I get into a mess I will contrive to let you hear of it.”
“Not in Russia, M. Denver. I shall wait, how anxiously I cannot tell
you, for news of you. And if I get none, I shall not misunderstand. I
repeat--we may never meet again.”
“If you do not hear from me to-day, or at latest to-morrow, you will
know there is a check somewhere, and you must fly.”
“I shall be quite safe in the Retreat.”
“You can safely communicate with me at the American Embassy. Remember
that.”
“I shall not forget, and need not write it down,” she answered with one
of her smiles. “And do you yourself remember--caution, such as you have
never had to use. Good-bye. May God prosper us and our cause.”
“And our love, Helga,” I added in the lowest of whispers. A pressure of
her fingers and a glance from her eyes answered me.
The carriage drove off rapidly, and left me to set about a task, which
in its way was perhaps as difficult as any that ever plagued the wits
of a sorely perplexed man.
It was still early in the morning, and I had to walk some distance
before I could secure a drosky. The driver, when I told him to take me
to the Palace, appeared to think I was either some overnight reveller
who had not shaken off the effects of the drink, or else a lunatic; for
he laughed and swore good-humouredly, and then flatly refused to do as
I bade him.
While we were wrangling, I saw some police approaching, and, having
no mind to be interviewed by them, I ended the dispute by giving him a
double fare and telling him to drive to a point near the Palace.
As we rumbled along innumerable difficulties suggested themselves as
obstacles to my gaining admission to the Palace at all at such an hour;
and the all but hopelessness of doing so without Prince Kalkov getting
to hear of it was too patent to be denied.
The attempt had to be made, however; and as impudence and a show of
authority go for much in Russia as elsewhere, I put as bold a face on
things as possible. When I left the carriage I wrapped my military
cloak about me, and strutting with as much of an officer’s swagger as I
could assume, I marched past the first sentry without a question.
I returned his salute in an off-hand way and walked on to the great
building. Just as I thought my bluff would succeed, however, I was
stopped by an official.
“Your pardon, monsieur,” he said, “but no one is permitted to enter.”
“I suppose I may go to my own rooms,” I replied in French, with a smile.
“Of course, but this is the Palace, monsieur.”
“And my rooms are in it. I am a guest of His Majesty.”
“A thousand pardons for this interruption, but we have very strict
orders, and have had no notification of your visit. Will you be so good
as to come to my bureau?”
“I’d rather go to my rooms; but if this is the way that His Majesty’s
guests are usually treated, by all means lead the way.”
He bowed very ceremoniously and took me to his office. Here he repeated
his apologies and asked me my name.
“There will doubtless be some directions here,” he added, taking a book
from his desk.
I didn’t want to give my name if it could be helped; and I hesitated.
He noticed the hesitation and frowned.
“My name is Harper C. Denver. I am an American. I arrived here three
days ago. You will probably recognize this ring of His Majesty’s as a
guarantee of my position.”
But there are always two views as to the possession of a Royal jewel;
and this blockhead took the wrong one. I might have known he would; and
I could almost read in his eyes that he suspected me of having obtained
it by some wrongful means.
He pretended to search in his book for some mention of my name, while
all the time he was asking himself how I could have got hold of one of
His Imperial Master’s rings.
“I regret exceedingly that I find no reference here to you,” he
said, his manner still excessively polite. “It is very awkward and
very unfortunate. But I am afraid I cannot permit you to enter the
Palace--without further instructions, that is. No doubt, however, you
can suggest some one to whom I can send?”
He said this with the air of a man who feels he has got you.
“You can send to His Majesty,” said I quietly. “That will be the
simplest way.”
He looked at me steadily, and his manner changed.
“You wish to see His Majesty, then, at once?” he asked.
“What I wish is to go to my rooms first, and see His Majesty
afterwards. Nothing unreasonable in that, is there?”
“Unreasonable, no, monsieur, and yet, perhaps, unusual. But I will see
what I can do. I will send and make inquiries.”
He had returned to his former polite deferential air.
“So long as you are quick, I don’t care what you do,” said I.
“This is very trying to me. I am deeply sorry. But perhaps you are used
to these needs for caution in other countries;” and he went on in this
style until a servant entered.
“Send Gravok to me,” he said, and accompanied the order with a
significant nod.
I wondered what was coming; but was not long left in doubt, for half a
minute later a sergeant and three soldiers entered, two of whom placed
themselves instantly one on each side of me.
“This is a mere formality, of course; but you will understand.”
I laughed then.
“You mean I am under arrest, I suppose.”
“Yes, of course; what else?” he answered in curt quick tones. “Are you
armed?”
“I have a revolver; here it is,” and I put my hand to take it out.
“Stop him,” said the official sharply; and a soldier caught my arm,
while the sergeant plunged his hand into the pocket I had indicated and
drew out the pistol.
The official smiled with dry significance as he examined it and said--
“Ah, and loaded, I see. I expected it. Take him to the guard-house.”