I was very preoccupied with my plans as I left the Foreign Embassy,
and, crossing the side path quickly, ran against a man, who turned,
stared, started, and muttering some words I did not catch, passed on.
Something about him struck me as familiar, and I glanced after him
with half a mind to follow and speak to him. But time was pressing. It
was already mid-day, and I had yet to devise a means of getting at the
Emperor; so I entered my carriage and drove back to the hotel.
The incident had served to revive my caution, however, and when I
alighted I had a good look about me. There were but few people about,
and none to take any notice of me; but while I still stood in the
lobby, a drosky drove rapidly past, and in it was the man whom I had
jostled some minutes before.
Obviously I had been followed; and having ordered my lunch to be sent
to my rooms, I went up feeling vaguely uneasy and worried.
The man’s face would obtrude itself into my thoughts, and my vain
efforts to place him in my memory troubled me. In the last few crowded
days I had seen such a number of different faces that my recollection
of this one was lost in the crowd.
That any one should have recognized me at such a moment was annoying;
and whoever the man might be, and whatever his object in following me,
I foresaw the possibility of embarrassing complications, and even of
dangerous ones.
Without interference from any one, the difficulties in the path of
getting to the Czar’s presence were of themselves likely to tax my
ingenuity to the utmost. Even when I had been his guest in the Palace
they had proved insuperable, and now they threatened to be no less
troublesome. A hundred different suggestions occurred to me, only to be
put on one side.
You cannot walk up to an Emperor’s door, send in your card, and see him
without any fuss; and if I was to succeed now, it would only be as a
result of some ruse.
For this there was only one thing which might tell in my favour. I knew
my way about the Palace, and on the night of my arrival I had been seen
by, and my name was known to, one or two of the gentlemen-in-waiting.
If I could get inside the building, therefore, I might by the use of a
little impudence and ingenuity gain my end.
In this connection I had a stroke of luck. I learned from the papers
that the Czar had returned late on the previous evening with his guest,
the Crown Prince of Denmark; and I saw how to make use of this visit
for my purpose.
The Crown Prince and his staff were staying in the Palace, and the
fact of there being so many new faces to puzzle the officials would
help me. I resolved to go to the Palace quite openly, ask for one of
the Prince’s staff, and while he was being sought, I proposed to lose
myself somewhere in the building, and trust to my wits for the rest.
To ask openly for an audience of the Emperor would, of course, be
useless, because, as Marvyn himself had admitted, all such requests
were referred straight to Prince Kalkov.
I found a list of the members of the staff in a morning paper and
picked out a name at random: that of a Colonel von Kramen: and over
my lunch arranged the details of my venture. If I came actually face
to face with him, I could easily use Siegel’s connection with the
Screecher to carry me through.
I fixed the time for my visit for about five in the afternoon. I knew
the Czar’s habit was to devote himself to matters of business for an
hour or two from five o’clock; and if I could get my name before him
then with a pressing request for an audience, I reckoned all the rest
would be plain sailing.
I ordered a carriage to be ready by half-past four, and sat down to
wait for the time to pass with such patience as I could command; and
I was just finishing my cigar when the waiter interrupted me with an
announcement that brought me to my feet in a moment.
“Your brother to see you, monsieur.”
“My brother!” I exclaimed, and got no farther before the man who had
followed me to the hotel rushed in with both hands extended and face
beaming with smiles.
“Ah, Frank, my brother, my brother,” he cried in broken English, and
with a very effusive foreign manner.
I drew back and stared at him.
“I don’t know you,” I said.
The waiter stood staring at us in amused astonishment. The ways of
these Americans were always droll, of course, to him.
“Oh, Frank, brother, why receive me thus coldly? Why this cruel
estrangement? This freezing stare?” exclaimed my visitor as the waiter,
after lounging a moment, went out and closed the door. Then the
newcomer’s manner changed. “Or am I mistaken, and is it--the Emperor?”
the last sentence in a low, sly tone with a look of intense cunning.
“I don’t know who the devil you are, but you’ve no business here
anyway, so get out, right now,” I said angrily.
He took no notice and stood staring at me with the same smile of
cunning. Then shaking his head as if in reproach, he sat down.
“This is my room. Get out of it,” I cried.
He did not move, so I crossed to the bell.
“Shall I call some one to pitch you out?”
He spread his hands and wagged his head.
“They will not do that.”
“We’ll see;” and I touched it.
“They will not do that,” he declared, unmoved. “You will not tell them
to. I should only say I am looking for an American gentleman I had the
good fortune to meet at--Brabinsk, and think I have found him.”
He smiled with the same serene cunning.
“What do you want?” I asked angrily.
The waiter opened the door then.
“Ah, that is more like my brother. I will have cognac and cigars and
coffee. The sight of your dear face, brother, is a delight.”
“Bring cigars, coffee, and brandy,” I told the waiter.
“Was I not right? You no longer order me out. On the contrary, we drink
together, and smoke and--and talk.”
I waited until the drinks came.
“Help yourself,” I told him; and he did, generously. Russians can all
drink like fish, and this one took half a tumbler of brandy and very
nearly forgot all about the water. Then leisurely he lit a cigar, and
having got rid of the waiter’s curious eyes, rose and locked the door,
and tossed the key on the table.
“You may have another brother, monsieur, and he would not be so
welcome;” and with a fresh smile he sat down again and puffed away in
silence.
“A good cigar,” he said appreciatively.
His coolness was amazing.
“You said you were going to talk--well, talk, and say what you want.”
“I want to do you a good service, monsieur; I am your friend.”
“Never mind that, what do you want?”
He took up his glass and looked at the liquor in it deliberately.
“A toast, monsieur. To the memory of--M. Vastic,” and he tossed off
half the liquor at a gulp. “You do not drink?”
“No; I’m waiting for you to speak.”
“He was a great man--Vastic. But you were too quick for him.”
“Were you--?” I began.
He nodded his head quickly.
“I missed you. It is not often I miss. I am counted a dead shot;” and
with a glance the mingled threat and cunning of which no words of mine
can convey, he took out a revolver and laid it on the table in his hand.
The interest of the situation heightened considerably.
“Have you come for a second shot?”
“I hope not; I hope it will not come to that. I should not miss a
second time. Perhaps you have arms here?”
“Perhaps I have,” I answered coolly, meeting his eyes.
“It would help to give them me.”
We stared steadily at one another, and then I noticed that the door key
was within my reach. I leaned forward slightly, as if to be nearer
him, and then picked up the key with my left hand, and thrust back my
chair so that my right hand rested on the bell push. As I moved, he
watched me like a cat, and partly raised the revolver.
“This will do for me,” I answered, slipping the key into an inner
pocket and putting my finger on the bell. “You can shoot me if you
wish, but at the slightest movement from you I shall ring this bell,
and you will find it difficult to get out of the room before the people
come--and equally difficult to explain your presence. Now we can talk.”
A dead tense silence followed my words. I sat staring at him, with my
finger on the push. His fingers left the revolver and he smiled.
“You are clever, monsieur. But it would not have saved you. You are
right, however. We will talk.”
“Say what you have to say,” I answered, keeping my hand on the bell.
“If I spare you, you can save me. And we shall be quits.”
“Go on.”
He took his hand from his revolver and used it to lift the glass which
he drained and immediately replenished.
“You remember me then, monsieur?” he asked.
“Yes, perfectly, now. You were with M. Vastic at Brabinsk.”
“When you shot him,” he added significantly.
“At the moment he was attempting to shoot me. Yes, go on.”
“For that you were condemned by the brotherhood, and I was one of those
chosen to--to find you.”
“And murder me, you mean--after having been a witness that I acted only
in self-defence. Go on.”
“We know what occurred,” he answered with a wave of the hand, as if
putting my words aside. Then his look sharpened. “I am now the only
one at large of all who were at Brabinsk that night.”
“Which means--what?”
“That I am your only source of danger--from us, monsieur. It is
fortunate that I chanced to see you to-day.”
“There may be two opinions about that,” I said drily. “I have mine.”
“It is fortunate--for both.”
“That gun of yours is scarcely a promising circumstance, is it?”
“You can make me your friend, if you will.”
“How?”
“I am in danger, almost at my last turn. I am being hunted down--and
you can save me. Every refuge is closed by these dogs of police.”
“Do you think I can call them off? I’m no longer even playing at being
Emperor.”
“I have no money, monsieur--and dare not go where I could get it.”
So the cat was belled at last. To my profound relief, the desperate
Nihilist and picked assassin was just a common beggar, and his six
shooter and threats mere picturesque bits of stage colour, and no more.
An almost ludicrous bathos, but yet unutterably welcome to me.
A moment’s reflection convinced me that he was in earnest. I knew of
the raid on the Nihilists and that there had been a great number of
arrests. Panic had no doubt seized the bulk of them, as it will do at
such moments, and this man had caught the infection: oaths, pledges,
revenge, the brotherhood, friends, everything had been blown to the
winds by the passion of the panic and fear for his skin.
I took my hand from the bell and rose.
“Come,” I said quietly, in a tone of reassurance. “Put that gun away
and don’t monkey with it any longer. I’ll help you if only to show I’ve
no cause of enmity with you. You shall get out of the country if you
wish. How much do you want?” and without more ado I pulled out a roll
of notes.
This readiness completed his conquest. He tried to maintain some show
of stolid indifference, but the sight of the money and the knowledge
of all it meant was too much for him; and for the moment he could not
speak.
“How much?” I asked again. “Five hundred roubles?” and I laid notes for
that amount on the table.
“I don’t need so much as that,” he said.
“If you’ll comply with one condition, I’ll double the amount.”
His quick glance asked my meaning.
“You are the one man whose evidence can prove what took place when
Vastic was killed. Leave Russia and go to any place you please, but let
me know where to find you; you can write to Mr. Harold Marvyn, of the
American Embassy here. And if I need your evidence, be ready to swear
to what occurred at Brabinsk. Do this, and I’ll see that you have a
fair start in a new country. You’re not of the stuff that makes good
conspirators. Come; your gun, right now, as a pledge you trust me and
will do what I say.” And I held out my hand for it.
He hesitated, looking at me nervously.
“I’m a prisoner, monsieur,” he murmured.
“Rubbish! Here,” and I tossed the key of the room over to him.
“By God, you’re a man!” he cried. “You make me feel like a vile wretch
of a coward;” and he pushed the revolver toward me. “I was drawn into
this thing, like so many others, and the net was too strong to break.
But I could get away now, and if you’ll give me a chance----”
“All right. Here’s the money. I’ll have your story when we meet outside
your infernal country. Now go, I’m busy. By the way, what’s your name?”
He picked up the notes almost like a man in a dream and as if he could
not believe in his good fortune, and put them away.
“I am Anton Presvitch. What can I say to you, monsieur? I----”
“Say _au revoir_ or any other old tag you please, and keep clear of
this sort of business for the future. I wish you good luck in getting
away;” and I opened the door, gave him back his revolver and bundled
him out.
The time was now close at hand for me to start, and I hurried my final
preparations.
My chief concern as I drove to the Palace was lest any of the men who
had stopped me on the previous morning should be on duty and recognize
me; but the luck continued to be on my side.
No difficulty was raised about taking Siegel’s card to Colonel von
Kramen, and I was shown into an ante-room to wait. But I was not
left alone, and could not therefore find means to get further into
the Palace. But I was in luck again. Instead of the colonel, a young
officer came to me, who said he was his secretary, and politely asked
my business.
I invented a reply to the effect that the paper I represented wished
me to get the career of so distinguished an officer as the colonel,
and that I was very anxious to have a personal interview. I would not
detain him more than a few minutes.
“I’m afraid it’s out of the question just now. The colonel is with his
Royal Highness, and can scarcely be interrupted,” he said, as if with
regret. “Cannot I tell you what you wish to know?”
“I’m also going to ask the colonel to endeavour to get me a word with
his Royal Highness,” I answered glibly.
“Really!” He smiled. “I have heard of the enterprise of American
newspapers, but I scarcely expected this.”
“It’s a usual thing,” I replied, as if it were. “In fact I am known to
the Czar himself, and have had the honour of a long conversation with
him.”
This impressed him, as I intended it should.
“I’ll go and see what I can do,” he answered.
He was a very pleasant young fellow, so I ventured a step further.
“Is there not some place where we could be more private than here? In a
confidential matter of this sort----”
I left the rest to his imagination.
“Will you come to my apartments? I shall be delighted.”
Of course I agreed, but felt rather like a shame-faced impostor at
having to trick so frank and good-natured a fellow. There was too much
at stake, however, for me to hesitate, and we went away together,
talking gaily, up the stairs and along the corridors to his room.
I was going to win after all, in spite of old Kalkov and his Argus
eyes, and my spirits rose as success came nearer and nearer within my
grasp.
We sat chatting for a few minutes, the young officer exhibiting
a strong curiosity on the subject of American newspapers, what
information I wished to obtain, the use I should make of it, and so on;
and I did my best to satisfy him.
He was satisfied at length apparently, for he went off on his search
for the colonel and left me alone.
I gave him just time to get well away, and then hurried off in the
direction of the rooms where I knew the Czar would be at that hour.
What happened when the young secretary returned to find I had hoaxed
him, I do not know, and never had an opportunity of ascertaining. He
went out of my thoughts there and then, and the occurrences of the next
few hours were too vital for me to think of him again.
I had to get to the Czar, and assuming an air of as much importance
as I could, and feeling, it must be confessed, not a little nervous, I
strode into the ante-room, my pulse beating with the fear that Prince
Kalkov might be there, and said to one of the aides-de-camp, as I
handed him my card--my own card this time--
“Kindly let his Majesty know that I have obeyed his summons and am
here.”
The aide looked up and frowned.
“I have no note of your name, monsieur. What is your business, if you
please?”
“I am here by his Majesty’s request. I was staying in the Palace as his
Majesty’s guest until the last two days. I am going to Khiva, and his
Majesty wished to see me first.”
“Oh yes, I heard of that. Pray pardon me; you are the American, M.
Denver, yes. His Majesty is engaged at present, but the audience will
be over directly, and if he sent for you, of course he will see you.”
“I was to see him before I left. But my name will be enough.”
“Will you wait, monsieur?” And he waved me to an adjoining room.
Good old bluff! The finest of all tactics, I thought as I sat, very
anxious and impatient I admit, but very confident now. Once get the
Czar’s ear, and then--
The door was pushed partly open, and there came a dramatic pause. I got
up, eager and expectant; and the luck turned with a rush.
It was Prince Kalkov, pale, urbane, cool and dangerous.
“I am afraid, M. Denver, his Majesty is too much engaged to grant you
an audience to-day.”
This in the suavest of tones, for those outside to hear. Then he closed
the door and smiled.