My feelings as Prince Kalkov and I stood thus face to face for
some half minute or so without speaking were not wholly those of
disappointment and chagrin. Disappointed I was, of course, and
chagrined; but I had throughout had the secret expectation that he
would succeed in blocking my way to the Czar; and it was in view of
this that I had taken the elaborate precautions in regard to the
compromising papers.
My surprise passed very quickly therefore, and I was conscious of a
feeling of amusement mingled with conjecture as to the course which
the interview would take. I had no fear of him whatever, for I was
absolutely confident.
He might do what he pleased, but I had the stock of the whip in my
hand, and there were two long biting thongs on it.
I sat down on the edge of an office table, and swinging my leg
carelessly, smiled and opened the business.
“I am not so entirely surprised to see you as you may think--nor so
sorry. I would rather see his Majesty, but that will come presently.”
“You play very adroitly and very confidently, M. Denver. Who is in your
place yonder--your cell?”
I affected not to understand him.
“My cell?”
“Need we pretend? What American has personated you?”
“No one, Prince; I am not an Emperor.” Then in an indifferent tone
I added: “Have you got an American? I heard as I came back through
Kovna that your people had blundered and had made an arrest. I think
something was said about a murder, but, of course, we know that’s all
mere wishwash and wind baggery.”
“You will find it serious enough, monsieur. Who is he?” he asked
sharply.
I pretended to think a moment, then slapped my knee and laughed.
“By Jove, I believe I can guess it. Splendid. There _was_ an American,
a newspaper man, on the train, represents the most sensational papers
in the States; he was dying to get the secrets of your prisons at first
hand, and it’s just like him to have played for this arrest. You’ll
have a flaring description of the one he’s in sent across the Atlantic.
Lovely!” and I laughed with unnecessary heartiness. “You’d better get
him out as soon as you can.”
His eye kindled with anger.
“If there has been a conspiracy, monsieur, it will not help you now,
and he will pay the penalty. We are not to be fooled with.”
“That’s just the point. The worse you treat him, the better he’ll like
it, and the more his papers will make of it,” I replied, taking out my
cigar case.
“Where are his papers, monsieur?” he retorted pointedly.
I grew serious and looked up at him out of the corner of my eyes.
“Are we to talk about--papers yet, Prince?”
His momentary discomfiture was a thing of joy to me.
“You do not realize the fix you have got him into.”
“No indeed, for I don’t believe he’s in any fix at all. By the way,
shall I have time to smoke a cigar before I see his Majesty?”
“Yes, many,” he rapped out drily.
“Well, here goes for one, then,” and I lit mine deliberately. “Now I
suppose we are going to have a little chat together. I think you’ll be
interested in an account of my adventures since--yes, since the night
before last at--seven o’clock. You know them up to then.”
“It is unusual for me to grant an interview to a man charged with
murder.”
“Then I’d better go straight to his Majesty.”
“You will not see his Majesty.”
“I think I can persuade you that I shall, Prince. As you said just now,
I am very confident.”
“If you desire to lay any mitigating facts before me, I will listen to
you in my apartments. I am wishful to deal with you leniently.”
“Mitigating facts, that’s a pretty phrase. I like it. I am also ready
to go anywhere you please--gaol if you like; and I can understand that
you would prefer me to be a little farther removed from the Czar than
we are at the present moment.”
“I shall send you there under guard, monsieur.”
“No, decidedly no,” I said firmly. “If you send me anywhere under
guard, it will be to a prison, and then--well, things will happen, and
you’ll be sorry. I am enjoying this interview, and am quite willing
to continue it where and when you please; but you are vastly mistaken
if you think that I am only bluffing you now. I am really dangerous,
Prince. You know the jargon of poker--well, it’s up to you to see
me--if you think it safe.”
Apparently he did not, for after a second’s pause he said--
“We’ll go together, monsieur.”
And together we went accordingly.
I was well satisfied with the progress of things so far. I had told
him nothing yet; had merely hinted at the power I held; and the hint
had forced him to yield. Nothing more was said until we reached his
apartment, and once there, he sat down to his desk, while I threw
myself into an easy lounge chair. It was my cue to appear absolutely
unconcerned, and I played up to it.
“Now, monsieur, for the reasons why I am not to hand you over to the
police at once.”
He spoke sternly and curtly.
“The main reason is the blunder of your men at Kovna. They first let me
through with things that were of great importance, and then let me back
again to take ample measures for the safety of myself--and others. I
owe them an infinite obligation.”
“You will find it better to drop this jesting tone and speak plainly.”
“Why should I adapt my tone to suit your convenience? You are presuming
to address me as if I were a prisoner.”
“You are a prisoner.”
“Why persist in this ridiculous delusion? I am not anything like so
near a gaol as--well, say as you are.”
“This is insolence, monsieur,” he cried angrily.
“Yes, calculated insolence, your Highness. I resent your attitude.
You have behaved infamously to me--infamously. And you would carry
your infamy to the last extreme now, and send me to rot in one of your
gaols, were you not restrained by your fear of the consequences.”
“You shall not speak thus to me,” he cried passionately, striking the
desk with his fist.
“I shall speak as I please to the man who laid a treacherous trap to
lure me to my death.”
“This is not the way to obtain my leniency.”
“Damn your leniency! Do what you dare--right now. I am as safe from
your threats as I am indifferent to your anger. I am a free-speaking
American citizen, monsieur, not a Russian serf; and I can prove my
innocence as clearly as I can prove your guilt.”
“You tempt me to end the interview by your arrest. Had you not been a
friend of his Majesty----”
A laugh from me cut him short.
“Exactly. I understand. You mean it’s safer to hear me out, no matter
what tone I adopt. And so it is.”
He knew well enough I was dangerous to him; and filling up a pause by
drawing some large sheets of official paper before him and selecting a
pen, he said--
“Your statement, monsieur.”
“You won’t find it advisable to put it all down there; but you can
please yourself. First, we’ll clear up the mystery of your prisoner.
His name is--but wait, here are some of his papers, including his
passport. I used that with his consent to pass your men at Kovna;” and
I handed over such of Siegel’s cards and papers as I had with me.
“You admit this?” he asked.
My action surprised him.
“Oh yes. Fortunately I met him on the train, and we arranged that I
should use his passport.”
“You conspired together?”
“Put it how you like. It doesn’t matter five cents. If I didn’t know
that, I shouldn’t have told you. Shall I wait while you write that
down?” I asked, for his paper was as blank as my hand.
“I can trust my memory for his crime,” he replied when I waited for an
answer.
“Then you can have my first condition. M. Siegel must be liberated
the moment he expresses the wish to leave. I don’t want him to lose
material for his article. He was so useful to me, you see.”
The Prince bit his lips savagely and sneered.
“It is good of you to name your conditions.”
“If I didn’t, how could you comply with them?”
“Perhaps you have some others?”
“Certainly I have. The next is the immediate release of Mademoiselle
Helga Boreski--or Lavalski, whichever name you prefer. When that trap
of yours for me failed--and only an accident caused the failure, for
it took me in completely; you may like to know that--I went to the
Mademoiselle and told her your intentions in regard to her, warned her
and assisted her in attempting to fly. Your quick swoop on the place
afterwards--a fact we had not counted on--broke up our plans, and she
was arrested. I tell you of the mistakes we made in regard to you, so
that you may feel perfectly sure I have not made any miscalculations
now.”
“By your own admission, you aided the escape of this Nihilist leader.
You are frank, monsieur.”
“Except that she is not a Nihilist leader, but your personal enemy, you
are quite right. I admit I helped her to get away. I went with her, of
course, as you now know.”
My frankness was having precisely the effect upon him which I
calculated. He felt I should not make a number of hazardous admissions
if I had not some strong cause.
“You must, of course, be held answerable for this; even my desire to
save you would be useless in the face of this,” he said, for all the
world as though he were my best friend and protector.
“I am ready right here and now. But about Mademoiselle’s release?” I
asked when he paused.
“It is preposterous--monstrous--out of the question.”
“Still, it’s got to be done; how, I leave to you;” and I leant back and
smoked placidly.
He sat thinking, and then shot the question at me for which I had been
waiting, and with it a sharp lightning glance.
“Why?”
“I have those papers.”
I enjoyed the start and frown which the words fetched, and his evident
discomfiture and perplexity.
“Your men were very good to me; I should like to recommend one of them
in particular for promotion.” I couldn’t resist the chance for this
little gird at him. “I had them on me when I passed the barrier and
again when I came back. And now they’re in good safe keeping.”
He bore the gibe without retort, without a sign of any kind, although I
knew how deep I had thrust the blade in.
“A queer turn of the wheels, isn’t it? The very papers you sent me out
to recover, when I do recover them, become my weapon against you. And,
by the way, they are not the only ones I have.”
“Well?”
“There’s the full case--with dates, details, names of witnesses,
proofs, everything--in the charge against you in that Lavalski matter.”
I saw his hand tighten on the arm of his chair, and a muttered oath
slipped out from the pressed lips in a whisper. Save for that one
truant whisper, his face was as pale and immobile as death itself.
The sight of his tense emotion satisfied even my bitterness against
him, and I held my tongue, speculating what he would do.
He found the problem beyond even his ingenuity for a time at least,
and sat thinking, trying to see a course that was not fraught with
real danger. He had guarded this secret jealously; fought for it with
desperate vigilance; flourished on it prosperously for years until
he had reached so high; and now exposure menaced him with all its
consequences of overthrow, ruin and disgrace.
I knew he would fight on doggedly, if only he could find the means of
fighting. But where he would look for them I could not see.
The silence lasted for minutes, and then he moved. He had apparently
thought the thing out and made his choice. At length he spoke.
“This Lavalski charge is false, monsieur,” he said.
“Intentionally false, no,” I answered. “Mademoiselle Helga is incapable
of deliberate falsehood. Mistaken, possibly. The inquiry which his
Majesty will order on hearing the charge will no doubt settle its truth
or mistake. That is all that is needed.”
“His Majesty will order no inquiry, monsieur.”
“We shall see.”
“The Duchess Stephanie has seen his Majesty.”
“When?”
“This morning, in a long and painful interview. I was present. What
passed has convinced his Majesty of the character of this mademoiselle.”
This was the one thing I had feared.
“I do not believe that of the Emperor,” I said firmly. Our eyes met and
I tried in vain to read the expression in his.
“From that quarter the mademoiselle can look for no countenance--now,”
he returned, with slow incisive significance.
I began to understand.
“I have yet to see him and tell my story,” I answered.
“I repeat, there can be no inquiry, monsieur.”
“It will arise out of any trial of the mademoiselle,” I said
significantly.
“There need be no trial.” He accompanied the ambiguous sentence with a
look which further enlightened me. Helga must look to him and not to
the Czar for help.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It rests with you,” he answered, slowly, as if the words were wrung
from him by torture. As indeed they had been.
I drew a long breath of relief. I had won, and the intense significance
of my victory rushed upon me, filling me with a gladness that deprived
me for the moment of the power to speak.
I got up and walked two or three times across the room. Helga was
free, and I had freed her. The luck was indeed with us. Looking at the
Prince I found his eyes riveted upon me.
“You are satisfied, M. Denver?”
“Yes. What remains to be done can be arranged easily. When can
Mademoiselle Helga be set at liberty?”
“As soon as she agrees to abandon this ridiculous charge against me,
and arranges for the surrender of the papers.”
My face clouded. I had not thought of that. Helga had to abandon
everything--the very purpose of her life. Would she?
“They cannot be surrendered until she is beyond your reach.”
“You do not credit me with much good faith,” he said bitterly.
“If you held my life in your hands would you put the weapon into mine
and expect me to kill myself?”
“Yet you expect me to credit you.”
“You cannot help yourself. Besides, I have gone straight. I am not a
Russian diplomatist.”
“Will you tell me where those papers are?”
“Will I put my head in a noose and hand you the loose end?”
“How do I know that you have them?”
“I tell you so. My word is enough; but you know pretty well I shouldn’t
have ventured here if I had not had them?”
“You came expecting to see the Emperor?”
“And should have forced my way to him just now--if I hadn’t known that,
having them, it was safe to trust myself with you.”
“Who else knows where they are?”
I started and looked at him. I began to see his drift, and led him on.
“No one,” I answered, and I saw by the way his eyes fell that my new
suspicions were correct.
“Will you give me a pledge on your honour that if I do what you ask you
will hand them to me?”
Again he would not trust me to see his eyes.
“Yes. Any pledge you like, written or verbal,” I answered, helping him
out. “But write me first that you grant my conditions.”
“Yes. I agree to that. It is fair.” And he began to use for the first
time the paper with which at the start he had made so much show. “Will
that suffice?” he asked, handing me the writing.
I appeared to read it carefully, but I was watching, and noticed that
iron-nerved as he was, his hands were trembling.
“Yes, that will do,” I said, and put it away in my pocket.
“Now write, then,” and we exchanged places, he standing up by me, I
sitting at his desk.
“Let me see, how shall I word it?”
“I will tell you,” he said, his voice trembling. “Write where those
papers are, or by God it will be your last moment alive.”
I was turning to look at him when I felt the cold circle or pistol
barrel pressed to my head.
Move, I dared not, for I knew that at the least sign of resistance from
me he would fire. I saw how he had reasoned. He believed that I alone
knew where the papers were, and that if he shot me the secret would die
with me. If I refused to write what he demanded, he would kill me and
take the risk of their never being found; while if I did tell him, he
would kill me just the same and get the papers afterwards.
But my precautions spelt checkmate to his ingenious scheme. Bitterly as
he hated me, I knew he would not indulge his hatred at the expense of
his own inevitable ruin.
“I will write something you had better read,” I said steadily, and
wrote: “I have placed the papers where, if anything happens to me, the
one set will pass at once into the hands of the Embassy”--I named the
Power concerned--“and the other set straight to the Czar.”
I ceased writing and felt the pressure of the barrel increase as he
bent forward to read the words. He gave such a start that I wondered
his fingers did not pull the trigger.
“I was only testing you,” he said, then, and he tossed the revolver
back in the drawer from which he had secretly taken it.
“Testing my folly, you mean, Prince Kalkov,” I said as I rose. “Seeing
whether I was fool enough to put my finger in the cobra’s mouth without
making sure that the fangs were drawn.”
“I am sorry. I was not myself,” he said, his voice strangely weak; and
he fell into the lounge chair where I had been sitting, and lay there
ashen white and trembling, so that I thought he would faint.
I could guess from that what he had undergone.
He was so long in this condition that I began to think he was seriously
ill, and would collapse altogether.
“Shall I summon assistance for you, monsieur?” I asked.
“No,” he murmured faintly, with a feeble wave of his white hand.
It was several minutes before he could rally sufficiently to resume.
Then he got up and changed to his own chair by the desk. He was like a
man more than half dead, and when he tried to write, his hand shook so
violently that he could not form the letters.
I waited in silence and watched him. Unscrupulous, treacherous, subtle,
and vile as I believed him, he was so broken and beaten that I could
almost have found it in me to pity him.
He succeeded after a strenuous effort in mastering his feebleness
sufficiently to be able to write.
“I shall trust your honour, M. Denver. Here is an order to admit you to
Mademoiselle Boreski, and to see her in private. Go to her at once.
Bring me word that she abandons this wrongful charge against me, and
you can both leave the country to-night. You can then surrender the
documents. You will understand my wish for haste.”
“I must see M. Siegel also,” I said; “and have an order for his
release.”
With another effort he wrote me the necessary authority.
“Now, excuse me, I am not well;” he sighed heavily, and his head fell
forward on his hands. “Please ring that bell for me,” he murmured.
I touched it and went out, leaving him still in that pose of abject
broken weakness.