A SECRET EXECUTION
I now come to a part of my chronicle which I plainly foresee must
expose me to grave criticism.
To that criticism it is no part of my purpose to attempt any reply.
In the long run, I have found, men's minds are not much affected by
argument and advocacy. Facts tell their own story, and men's
judgments are usually the result of their personal prejudices.
For that reason I shall confine myself to relating facts. I have
already told the story of my murder--for such it was in the
intent--by Petrovitch. I shall now tell the story of the justice
meted out by me on the assassin.
As soon as I was safely lodged in my house on the Alexander Quay, I
despatched my assistant, a clever young Frenchman named Breuil, with
a message to the promoter of the Manchurian Syndicate--the real
moving spirit of that War clique in which even the bellicose grand
dukes had only secondary parts.
The wording of the message had been carefully calculated to arouse
curiosity, but not apprehension.
"The agent of a foreign Power," Breuil was instructed to say to this
self-styled patriot, "with very large funds at his disposal, desires
to see you in strict secrecy."
The bait took. Petrovitch, naturally concluding that he was to be
offered a heavy bribe for some act of treachery to Russia, greedily
accepted the invitation.
The infatuated man did not take even the ordinary precaution of
asking for guarantees. He consented to accompany Breuil at once,
merely asking how far he had to go. This recklessness was the result
of his supposed triumphant crime. Believing that I was safely
interred in the English cemetery, he thought there was no one left
for him to fear.
On the way he did his best to extract some information out of my
assistant. But Breuil returned the same answer to all his questions
and hints:
"I am under orders not to converse with you, monsieur."
The doomed man was in good spirits as the droshky put him down at the
door of my house.
"Decidedly an out-of-the-way retreat!" he commented gaily. "I should
hardly be able to find my way here again without your assistance!"
The silent Breuil merely bowed, as he proceeded to open the street
door with a latch key.
Perhaps Petrovitch had been a little more nervous than he allowed to
appear. When he noticed that his escort simply closed the door on the
latch, without locking or bolting it further, he said in a tone of
relief:
"You are not much afraid of being visited by the police, I see."
Breuil, as silent as ever, led the way into a back parlor,
overlooking the Neva, where I was waiting to receive my visitor.
The room was plainly furnished as a study, and I had placed myself in
an arm-chair facing the window, so that my back was turned to the
door as Petrovitch entered.
I pretended to be writing furiously, as a pretext for not turning my
head till the visitor had seated himself.
Breuil said quietly, "M. Petrovitch is here," and went out of the
room.
As the door closed I tossed away my pen and turned around, facing my
assassin.
"I am pleased to see you, M. Petrovitch."
"Monsieur V----!"
I thought he would have lost his senses. His whole countenance
changed. He clung to his chair, and his eyes were fixed on me with an
expression of panic.
So complete was his collapse that he did not attempt to speak or
excuse himself. I saw that he was hardly in a condition to listen to
anything I had to say.
"I fear you are unwell, M. Petrovitch. Allow me to offer you a little
brandy."
The wretched man watched me with bewildered looks, as I took a bottle
and glasses from a cupboard and helped first him and then myself.
"It is quite wholesome, I assure you."
As I said the words I raised my own glass to my lips and sipped.
A choking cry escaped from the author of the war. He seized the glass
I had set before him and feverishly drained it.
I saw that he was burning to know by what means I had escaped the
fate prepared for me. But I had no object in gratifying his
curiosity, and mere boasting is not a weakness of mine.
Steadfastly preserving the tone of a business interview between men
who understand each other, I went on to say:
"I am here, as you know, in the joint interests of England and
Japan."
My murderer nodded faintly. I could see him making a tremendous
effort to control his nerves, and enter into conversation with me on
my own terms.
"I think I should be glad of a little more brandy. Thank you!--I am
not at all myself."
I shook my head compassionately.
"You should be careful to avoid too much excitement," I said. "Any
sudden shock is bad for a man with your nerves."
The promoter gasped. The situation was clearly beyond him.
"You," I went on in my most matter-of-fact tone, "on the contrary,
are acting on behalf of Germany."
"Who says so!" He was beginning to speak fiercely; but his eye met
mine, and the words died on his lips.
"We will say I dreamed it, if you like," I responded drily. "I have
very remarkable dreams sometimes, and learn a great deal from them.
"To confine ourselves to business. I have caused the sailing of this
Baltic Fleet to be put off, because----"
"You--have caused it!"
The interruption burst from him in spite of himself.
I affected to shrug my shoulders with a certain annoyance.
"Your opinion of my powers does not seem to be a very high one,
unfortunately," I remarked with irony. "It would be better if you
accepted me as a serious antagonist, believe me."
Petrovitch lowered his eyes in confusion, as he muttered,
"I apologize, Monsieur V----. I have blundered, as I now perceive."
"Let us resume. I was about to say that I had prevented the sailing
of this fleet, because I feared that its voyage might be marked by
some incident likely to bring Great Britain and Russia into
collision."
The financier raised his head and watched me keenly.
"You, yourself, M. Petrovitch, have been active, I believe, in
preparing the mind of the Czar and the Russian public for something
of the sort. Doubtless you have not done so without very good
grounds."
"My information leads me to think that a flotilla of torpedo boats is
being kept ready in the English ports for a night attack on our fleet
during its progress through the North Sea."
I smiled disdainfully.
"That is a false report. I have asked you to call here in the hope
that I might find you ready to assist me in discrediting it."
The Russian continued to watch me out of his narrow eyes.
"And, also," I added, "to assist me in preventing any attempt to give
color to it."
"I am not sure that I understand you, Monsieur V----."
"That is quite possible. I will speak more plainly. There are some
prophets who take a little trouble to make their prophesies come
true. I wish to know whether you and your friends have determined
that this particular prophesy shall come true--perhaps to fulfill it
yourselves?"
Petrovitch frowned and compressed his lips.
"So that is why you got me here?"
"I wished to see," I said blandly, "if it was possible for me to
offer you terms which might induce you to alter your views
altogether--in short, to stop the war."
The financier looked thunderstruck.
"Monsieur V----, you don't know what you ask! But you--would a
million rubles tempt you to come over, to be neutral, even?"
"I am a member, by adoption, of the imperial family of Japan," I
replied laconically.
Petrovitch was past surprise. If I had informed him that I was the
Mikado in disguise, I think he would have taken it as a matter of
course.
"This war is worth ten millions to me," he confessed hoarsely.
I shook my head with resignation.
"The price is too high. We must be enemies, not friends, I perceive."
The author of the war, who had regained his self-possession, did not
blanch at these words.
"I regret it," he said with a courteous inclination.
"You have reason to."
He gave me a questioning glance.
"Up to the present I have been on the defensive," I explained. "I
dislike violent measures. But from this moment I shall hold myself at
liberty to use them."
"I am afraid I have gone rather too far," the promoter hesitated.
"You have drugged me. You have robbed me. You have murdered me."
"You are alive, however," he ventured to retort with an impudent
smile.
"Unfortunately," I went on sternly, "in murdering me you exceeded
your instructions."
"How----"
"I dreamed that I heard you tell your accomplice so," I put in,
without giving him a chance to speak.
He ceased to meet my gaze.
"You are therefore not even a political criminal. You are a common
felon. As such I warn you that I shall execute you without notice,
and without reprieve."
The Russian scowled fiercely.
"We will see about that," he blustered. "I have a loaded revolver in
my pocket."
I waved my hand scornfully.
"Undeceive yourself, George Petrovitch. I am not proposing a duel. I
cannot be expected to fight with a condemned murderer. I sentence you
to death--and may the Lord have mercy on your soul."
"By what right?" he demanded furiously.
"I am accredited by the Emperor of Japan to the Emperor of Russia.
This house is Japanese soil. Farewell!"
Petrovitch rose from his chair, wavering between indignation and
alarm.
"I shall defend myself!" he exclaimed, edging slowly toward the door.
"You will do better to confess yourself. Is there no prayer that you
wish to say?"
The Russian smiled incredulously.
"You seem very confident," he sneered.
I saw that it was useless to try to rouse him to a sense of his
peril. I pointed to the door, and pressed a knob on the wall.
The murderer made two steps from me, laid his fingers on the
door-handle--and dropped dead instantly.