From Czar to street smouch was a big change of parts, and had I had
time to think and opportunity to choose, I would have selected a
different character.
But I had little conscious thought beyond a burning impatience to get
to Helga in the shortest possible time. I was jostled and pushed as
I hurried on; now hustled off the side walk, now grazing the house
fronts, and at times dodging through the traffic: but all the while
pressing on with feverish haste through the people, followed constantly
by curses and angry threats from those who shrank from my dirty
presence or shouldered me roughly to one side.
There is no lack of disreputable-looking beggars in the streets of
Russia’s capital at any time, and at night one drunken man more or less
attracts little attention, provided he keeps quiet. I was taken for a
drunkard; and my dirt-begrimed face and clothes, my coat slung over my
shoulder, my half-bared arms and muddied shirt-sleeves lent colour to
the part, as I scrambled and scurried along with a wary eye for the
police, whom I avoided with scrupulous care.
I had not much difficulty in finding the square of San Sophia, which
had once been a fashionable quarter. It was a dismal-looking _cul
de sac_, with a winding entrance at the southern end, in shape like
nothing so much as a tennis racket with a bent handle.
At the entrance stood a woman, who came toward me, half paused, stared
sharply at me, and passed on. I guessed she was a spy of some kind,
posted there to mark all who entered and left the square.
I lurched past her, keeping up my part of a drunken man, and reeled on
into the square--a small open space, unrailed and unprotected, with two
or three forlorn-looking stunted trees in a clump in the centre.
From the shelter of these I was able to make out Helga’s
house--standing well back in the shadow--a wider, shorter building than
the rest, with a deep porch. Not a light showed in any of the windows,
a fact that gave me a momentary qualm.
Having assured myself that no one was watching me, I stole out from the
trees and made for the porch, knocked gently at the door, and waited.
No one came, and fearing to give any noisy summons, I was feeling and
peering about for a bell--for inside the porch was very dark--when
I heard footsteps in the square. By the flickering lamplight at the
entrance I saw the woman who had met me returning in company with a
man, and, to my dismay, they came with rapid steps toward the spot
where I stood.
I lay down and squeezed myself as close to the side of the porch as
possible, trusting that the gloom of the place would prevent them
seeing me.
The footsteps came right to the house and then stopped.
In a fever of impatience I dragged myself cautiously to the entrance
and peering out, watched them.
They stood a moment talking together in whispers at the other end of
the house. The woman seemed to be giving the man some information and
instructions, for I saw her point several times toward that end of the
building.
After perhaps a couple of minutes she left, and the man shrank back
into the deep shadows, until the sound of her footsteps had ceased.
Then I heard the scrape of his feet against brickwork, and could just
make out that he had climbed on to a low wall which ran by the side of
the house.
At the risk of discovery I felt that I must know where he had gone, so
I drew off my boots and stole after him. By the side of the house ran
a very narrow passage guarded by a heavy iron gate, and crawling on to
the wall I followed the man with as much haste as the need for extreme
caution permitted.
The house was as still as a charnel vault; but I was no longer dismayed
by this. It was evident that such a visitor must have very strong
motives for this kind of secrecy; and as I judged that the woman had
pointed out the means by which an entrance to the house could be
gained, it was easy to understand that this was all connected with the
threatened attack upon Helga. This meant therefore that she was still
safe, and that I had arrived in time to take a hand in matters.
When I had gone far enough along the wall to get a view of the rear of
the house, I lay down and looked about for the man, and soon discovered
his plan. There were no underground rooms to the house, but there were
cellars, and the way to these was protected by a heavy grating. He had
removed this, and when I caught sight of him he was standing below in
the act of replacing this grating above his head.
As soon as it was in its place, I slipped off the wall and listened.
He entered the cellar, and when once inside struck a match, the feeble
flickering light from which enabled me to watch him.
He looked round for a moment as if in doubt, and then went to a door in
the far right-hand corner and knocked: three double knocks, repeated
at short intervals. After a while I heard the door open; the sound of
muffled gruff voices came to me; the door was closed, and then all was
silent as the grave once more.
For a moment I hesitated whether to follow him or to go back to the
front and try again to get into the house that way. But my former
failure to attract attention there decided me against that course.
It was just possible that Helga had arranged these precautions in the
critical need to conceal her presence in the house, and in that case,
if I once gained admittance, I could easily explain my presence. But it
seemed far more probable that a very ugly purpose lay under it all, and
this I resolved to ascertain, even at the risk of finding myself face
to face with one or two members of the brotherhood.
I slipped on my boots and coat, therefore, and following the man’s
example, I got through the grating, and finding the inner door, gave
the signal I had heard. It was an anxious moment as I huddled up
against the door awaiting the result. It was a long wait, until I heard
a stealthy movement; the door was opened slowly and cautiously, and a
man, holding a light, looked out.
Not caring for any scrutiny of my face, I put my foot in the crack and
my shoulder to the door, and shoved my way in.
“Why keep me waiting?” I asked in a whisper. “I am followed.”
“Who are you?” asked the voice.
“One who should be here,” I answered at random, as I closed the door
and shot home the bolt. “Lead the way,” I said, in a tone of authority.
He was for thrusting the light in my face, but I brushed his hand away
and growled out an oath.
“Who is here?” I asked then, under my breath.
He made no reply, and seemed quite undecided what to do; so I decided
for him, and pushed him very unceremoniously before me into the
darkness beyond.
He led me into an inner cellar, unlighted, save for the candle he
carried. I followed, prepared for almost anything except that which I
saw; and seeing it, I could scarce restrain from laughter, so complete
was the relief from the tension of the previous few minutes.
There was only one man there--obviously the same I had followed--and
he was staring hard at us with an expression of mingled fear and
expectation. It was Paul Drexel. He was shaved, and disguised in the
shabby clothes of a beggar; but I knew his flabby coward’s face in
a moment, although he did not recognize me. And I took care that he
should see my face as little as possible. For an instant the question
flashed upon me: What Drexel was doing in the affair? But I had to act,
not think, because if my supposition was correct, we should soon have
more of the men upon us.
There was no longer any reason for fear. With no one but a fat coward
like Drexel and the man with the light to oppose me, I should soon find
a way out of things.
“Who are you?” asked Drexel, as I entered.
“I am here to take command,” I replied, muffling my voice. I turned to
the other man and asked: “What part of the house are we in? How do we
get where we have to go?”
“These are the cellars. They didn’t think of them,” he replied, with a
grin of cunning.
“Show me,” and I made him light the way for me.
My examination of the place revealed nothing but bare cellars.
My guide pointed out a flight of stairs, and explained that there was
only a door at the top, which would not be difficult to force.
My first step was to get rid of him; and as he was now quite
unsuspicious of me, this was easy.
I found that one of the cellars had a door with bolts on the outside,
and as we stood in it, I made an excuse to take the light from him, and
catching him unawares, I gave him a blow on the side of the head which
sent him staggering over the floor, and before he could recover himself
I had shut the door and bolted it upon him.
He began a clatter at the door, and I called to Drexel sharply--
“Come and help here, quickly.”
He came hurrying out, but before he could ask a question I caught him
by the throat and shook out of him all his little courage and most of
his breath.
“Up these steps, quick,” I said, dragging him up, and reaching the top
I hammered and kicked at the door until some one came.
“In the devil’s name what’s this?” cried a voice threateningly, as the
door was opened.
“Thank God it’s you, Ivan,” I said, more glad than I can tell to see
him. “The mademoiselle; is she safe?”
“M. Denver!” he exclaimed, in profound astonishment.
“Mademoiselle Helga, man, tell me, is all well?”
“Yes, monsieur, but what----”
“Thank God for that,” I interrupted, the sense of relief filling me
with indescribable delight.
“How do you come here, monsieur?” he asked. “And who----” he paused to
peer into Drexel’s white face. “M. Drexel, Great Lord of the Skies,
what has happened?”
Helga was safe, and for me at that moment the whole world held no other
matter of concern. But there was much to do, for which even the ecstasy
of that knowledge could not wait.
“Take this treacherous snake, and have him kept safe somewhere until we
can question him. And now----”
“What has happened, Ivan?” It was Helga’s voice from above stairs, and
hearing it, I smiled and caught my breath.
“M. Denver is here, mademoiselle,” said Ivan.
“M. Denver?” in a tone of intense surprise. “Where?” The voice was
nearer. She was coming to me.
“Yes, I am here, mademoiselle;” and I went to meet her.
On catching sight of me she stopped as if aghast.
[Illustration: “I CAUGHT HIM BY THE THROAT AND SHOOK OUT OF HIM ALL HIS
LITTLE COURAGE AND MOST OF HIS BREATH.”--_Page 208._]
“I don’t look pretty, I’m afraid,” I said, with a laugh. “But it’s
about the best show I can make for the moment.”
Her eyes were now full of sweet concern.
“You have been in great trouble?” she said.
“Nothing’s the matter that a bath and a clothes brush won’t cure. But
it’s been a near thing.”
“Tell me.”
“I will, everything; but not now. Let me see you presently; there is
some work to be done first. You will have to leave here; go and get
ready.”
“Leave here? I cannot. I must not.”
“The place is known to Kalkov’s police and to Vastic’s friends. There
has been hell’s work; but you will be safe now.”
I drew Ivan aside then and told him what I knew and surmised, and how I
proposed to act. My idea was that he should take some of the servants
down into the cellars with him; let the men who were expected enter one
by one, seize them and make them prisoners.
Ivan was the man of all men I would have chosen for such a task. He
possessed enormous strength and a courage equal to any demands that
could be made upon it; I knew I could leave the affair safely in his
hands.
When I had explained my wishes and seen him start, I went to question
Drexel. He was in a condition of abject terror, and was to me such a
repulsive creature that I hurried my examination of him.
“If you know how to speak the truth, I advise you to do it now. I know
much about you and your doings, and if I find you lying to me I shall
denounce you as a traitor to the men you were to have met here. And you
know what to expect at their hands.” I gave him a second to chew this,
and then asked: “Now, whose spy are you, police or these men?”
“Neither. I have not come to help in this thing; I have not on my soul:
I know nothing of them.”
“Why are you here?”
“I came to get the papers from Mademoiselle Helga for Prince Kalkov.”
“Oh, you are his agent, eh? How did you get in?”
“I was told to meet a woman in the square who would tell me what to do
to get in.” This might be true, for I had seen the two together. “I
expected to find the house deserted.”
“Who gave you your instructions?”
“Prince Kalkov himself. If I refused, he threatened me with the mines,
monsieur.”
“For what?”
“As a Nihilist.”
“How did you get to the Prince?”
No answer.
I repeated the question.
“I went to clear myself,” he said slowly and with hesitation.
“To offer yourself as a spy, you mean?” I replied sternly.
“I was a suspect, and I wanted to clear myself.”
“And he told you you could clear yourself by getting these papers. I
think I understand you. He told you also that mademoiselle would be
assassinated, and that you could do your present work safely.”
“On my soul, no. I had no thought of that. I had not. I was told she
would be arrested.”
“Who gave the information to these men?”
“I don’t know, monsieur; indeed, I don’t. I don’t know who they are. I
was told only police would be here. You can kill me if you will, but
that is true.”
I was disposed to believe him, and to regard him as a mere tool of
Kalkov, sent to the house as being likely to know where to look for the
papers; and in this case he knew too little to be of much help to me.
It was quite consistent with Kalkov’s methods that he should use Drexel
for the purpose he had described; and although there were discrepancies
in the statement, I did not think it worth while to waste valuable
time in interrogating him any further.
What we had now to think about was the vital question of Helga’s
escape, and I left the miserable wretch, glad to be out of his
presence, and went to urge upon Helga the necessity of immediate flight.