THE CZAR'S MESSENGER
I drew out my watch and glanced at it by the light of the flaring
stoke-hole. It was just half-past eight.
The time taken up on the journey between Petersburg and Moscow varies
greatly according to the state of the weather and the amount of snow
on the line. But even in the summer the best trains are allowed
twelve hours, while the slow ones take nearly twenty-four. The
special Siberian express was timed to reach the ancient capital of
the czars at ten o'clock in the morning, and we had overtaken it with
rather more than an hour to spare.
I ordered the driver to creep up gradually, but not to approach too
near the hindmost coach of the train in front until Moscow was in
sight.
Obedient to my instructions, he slackened speed by degrees, till we
were rolling along at the same rate as the express, with a space of
three or four hundred yards between us.
Presently a red flag was thrust out from a side window at the rear
of the last coach and waved furiously. The driver of my engine
responded with first a green and then a white signal, indication that
there was no danger though caution was desirable.
The express perceptibly quickened its speed, but of course without
our allowing it to get farther ahead. At last the spires of the
Kremlin, and the green copper domes gleamed out across the waste, and
I nodded to the driver to close up.
He managed the maneuver with the skill of an artist. Inch by inch we
neared the guard's van in front, and our buffers were actually
touching as the engine in front blew off steam and we slowed
alongside the Moscow station.
Before the wheels of the express had ceased to move I was out on the
platform, and running up to the guard of the express.
"I have come on the pilot engine from Petersburg," I told him
hurriedly. "Tell no one of my arrival. Do not report the chase. If
you are questioned, say that you have orders to say nothing. And now
tell me which is the train for Dalny and Port Arthur, and when does
it leave?"
The guard, thoroughly cowed, promised implicit obedience. He showed
me a long corridor train with handsome sleeping cars and dining
saloons, which was drawn up ready at another platform.
"That is the train which goes to Baikal," he told me. "If the ice on
the lake will bear, rails may be laid right across it; if not, there
will be sleighs to transport the passengers to a train on the other
side. The train leaves at noon."
I thanked him and strolled off down the platform, glancing into the
carriages of the newly-arrived train as I passed in search of the
Czar's messenger.
I did not anticipate that any harm could have happened to him so soon
after leaving Petersburg. The object of the conspirators would be
defeated if Nicholas II. learned of any accident to his messenger in
time to send another despatch. It was more likely, at least so I
argued, that the Princess Y---- would accompany her victim across
Siberia, gradually worming her way into his confidence, and that only
at the last moment would she show her hand.
It was with a slight start that I encountered the face of the fair
emissary of M. Petrovitch, as she came to the door of her sleeping
compartment and looked out.
I was delighted to observe that this time she did not suspect me. In
fact, she evidently mistook me for one of the ordinary station
officials, for she gave me a haughty command:
"Go and see if there is a telegram for the Princess Y----."
Making a respectful salute I hastened off in the direction of the
telegraph office. On the way I interrupted a man in uniform carrying
an envelope in his hand.
"For the Princess Y----?" I demanded.
The man scowled at me and made as if to conceal the telegram. I saw
that it was a case for a tip and handed him a ruble note, on which he
promptly parted with his trust.
I turned around, and as soon as the messenger had moved off, I tore
open the envelope and read the message. Fortunately, it was not in
cipher, the rules against any such use of the wires, except by the
Government, being too strict.
This is what I read:
"Our friend, who is now an inspector, will join you at
Moscow. Look out for him. He has left his luggage with us,
but does not know it."
Accident, which had hitherto opposed my designs, was favoring them at
last. It was clear that Rostoy had betrayed me, and that Petrovitch
had sent this wire to the Princess to put her on her guard. But what
was the "luggage" which I was described as having left in the hands
of M. Petrovitch?
I thought I knew.
Crumpling up the tell-tale message in my pocket, I darted into the
telegraph office, and beckoned to the clerk in charge.
"On his majesty's secret service," I breathed in his ear, drawing him
on one side. I showed him my police badge, and added, "An envelope
and telegram form, quick!"
Overwhelmed by my imperative manner, he handed me the required
articles. I hastily scribbled:
"Our friend has parted with his luggage, though he does not
know it. He has been unwell, but may follow you next week.
To save trouble do not wire to us till you return."
Slipping this into the envelope, I addressed it to the Princess, and
hastened back to the carriage where I had left her.
I found her fuming with impatience and scolding her maid, who looked
on half awake. I handed her the bogus telegram with a cringing
gesture. She snatched at it, tore off the cover and read, while I
watched her furtively from under my lowered eyelashes.
The first part of the message evidently gave her the greatest
pleasure. The second part, it was equally evident, puzzled and
annoyed her.
"Fool! What is he afraid of now?" she muttered beneath her breath.
She stood gnawing her rose-red lips for a moment--even a night passed
in the train could not make her look less charming--and then turned
to me.
"That will do. No answer. Here, Marie, give this man a couple of
rubles."
I received the gratuity with a look of satisfaction which must have
surprised the tired waiting maid. In reality I had scored a most
important point. Thanks to my suppression of the first message and my
addition to the second, I had completely cut off communication
between the agent of the Syndicate and its head in Petersburg, for a
time; while I had lulled the beautiful plotter into a false security,
by which I was likely to benefit.
My anxieties considerably lightened for the time being, I now renewed
my search for Colonel Menken.
The train from Petersburg had emptied by this time, so I moved across
the station to where the luxurious Manchurian express was being
boarded by its passengers.
I got in at one end, and made my way slowly along the corridors,
stepping over innumerable bags and other light articles. In a corner
of the smoking car I came at last upon the man I sought.
Colonel Menken was a young man for his rank, not over thirty, with a
fine, soldierly figure, handsome face and rather dandified air. He
wore a brilliant uniform, which looked like that of some crack
regiment of Guards. A cigar was in his mouth, and he was making a
little nest for himself with rugs and books and papers, and a box of
choice Havanas. A superb despatch box, with silver mounts, was
plainly marked with his initials, also in silver.
I did not dare to choose a seat for myself in the same part of the
train as the man whom I was anxious to guard. The oppressive powers
wielded by the police of Russia are tolerated only on one condition,
namely, that they are never abused to the disparagement of the social
importance of the aristocracy.
Bearing this in mind, I proceeded to the coach set aside for the
servants of the rich passengers, and contrived to secure a place
close to that occupied in the day-time by the maid of the Princess.
Having more than an hour to spare, I now laid in a large stock of
Turkish tobacco and cigarette papers, so as to have some means of
beguiling the time on the long, wearisome run across Asia. I also
bought a second-hand valise, and stocked it modestly with clothes.
Finally I made a hearty breakfast in the station restaurant, and
boarded the train a few minutes before it rolled out of Moscow.
Needless to say, I had introduced myself to the superintendent of the
train, an official of great dignity and importance. As a police
agent, of course I traveled free on the Government lines. The
superintendent was good enough to offer me a spare bed in his private
cabin at the end of the train, and during the run we became the best
of friends.
But I must be excused from dwelling on the details of the journey,
not the first I had taken on the great transasiatic line. My whole
energies were absorbed in two tasks. In the first place, I had to
gain the confidence of the maid, Marie, and in the second to prevent
her mistress gaining the confidence of the messenger of the Czar.
"I hope that message I brought to the Princess did not contain any
bad news?" I said to Marie as soon as I got a chance of addressing
her.
This was when we were fairly on the way.
After first attending to her mistress, and seeing that she was
comfortably settled, the maid was at liberty to look after herself,
and I had seized the opportunity to render her a few trifling
services with her luggage.
"I don't know, I'm sure," was the answer to my question. "The
Princess tells me nothing of her secrets."
"Perhaps the Princess Y----"
"Oh, let's call her Sophy," the maid interrupted crossly.
Needless to say I welcomed these symptoms that Marie was no great
friend of her employer.
"Perhaps she has no secrets," I continued. "Have you been with her
long?"
"Only six months," was the answer. "And I don't think I shall stay
much longer. But you're quite mistaken if you think Sophy is one of
the innocent ones. She's always up to some mischief or other, though
what it is, I don't know."
"If you stay with her a little longer, you may find out. And then,
if it is anything political, you may make a good deal of money out of
her."
The girl's eyes brightened.
"Keep your eyes open," I said. "Look out for any scraps of paper you
see lying about. Keep a diary of the places Sophy goes to, and the
people she sees. And when you have anything to tell, let me know. I
will give you my address in Petersburg. And you may trust me to see
that you come off well."
Marie readily agreed to all I asked of her. The understanding thus
arrived at was destined to be of the greatest assistance to me.
Indeed, it is not too much to say that to this young Russian girl it
is due that the two greatest Powers in the Old World are not at this
moment battling on the Afghan frontier.
We had hardly been an hour under way before I saw the two objects of
my watchfulness seated side by side in the drawing-room car,
apparently on the friendliest terms.
Dismayed by this rapid progress, as it seemed, on the part of the
Princess, I reproached myself for not having warned Colonel Menken
before we started.
I resolved to put him on his guard at the earliest possible moment,
and with that view I hung about the smoking-car, waiting till I saw
him return to his corner.
This was not for some hours. Fortunately, owing to the universal
expectation of war, there were not many passengers proceeding to the
Far East. The train was practically empty, and so when Colonel Menken
had seated himself once more in the snug corner he had prepared for
himself, I was able to approach him without fear of being overheard.
He was just lighting a cigar as I came up, and took no notice of my
respectful salute till he had inhaled the tobacco smoke two or three
times and expelled it through his nostrils to test the flavor.
At last he turned to me.
"Well?" he said with some sharpness. "What is the matter?"
"I have seen in the passenger list that you are traveling on the
service of the Czar," I answered, "and I venture to place myself at
your orders."
Colonel Menken scowled at me haughtily.
"Does that mean that you want a tip?" he sneered. "Or has some fool
ordered you to shadow me?"
"Neither, Colonel," I replied. "I am a servant of the Czar, like
yourself, as you may see from my uniform, and as I have reason to
fear that there is an enemy of his majesty on the train, I wish to
put you on your guard."
Menken gave a self-confident smile.
"I am pretty well able to take care of myself, I believe," he said
boastfully. "As for the Nihilists, I no longer believe in their
existence. You may point out the man you suspect, if you like, of
course."
"It is not a man, Colonel, it is a woman."
"In that case the adventure promises to be interesting. I do not know
any of the women on board except the Princess Y----."
"You know her!" I allowed a note of surprise to appear in my voice.
"The Princess is related to me," the Czar's messenger declared, with
a rebuking frown. "I presume she is not the object of your
suspicions?"
"And if she were?"
"If she were, I should tell you that you had made a very absurd
mistake, my good fellow. The Princess is in the confidence of the
Dowager Empress; she is perfectly aware of the object of my mission,
and she has just promised me that if I carry it out successfully she
will become my wife."