TRUE TO HIS TRUST.
That night, after all had retired, William Barnwell, in the privacy of
his own chamber, untied one of the bags, and emptied its contents upon
his bed, so that the noise of the jingle might be smothered.
He was a good judge of Russian gold, and this he found to be genuine,
coined in double roubles, with dates mostly before and during the reign
of Czar Nicholas, the tyrant par excellence of Russia, which is saying
much.
He was a ruler who knew nothing of humanity or justice, who was quite as
bad, save in form and outward show, as Catherine or her barbarian
predecessors, always excepting Peter the Great.
It took England, France and Sardinia to teach him the rudiments of
civilization, and even then he died a barbarian at heart, as he had
always lived, leaving a conquered monarchy to his son, who tried to
appease the world by abolishing serfdom, although he probably never
would have done so had not the teachings of Batavsky and others taken
root in the hearts of the Russian people, creating a diversion in favor
of political liberty, which he thought to smother while freeing the
serfs.
So much for history, but it had to come in, this being in nearly all
respects a historical story.
"Slightly mildewed, but every one of them genuine," said Barnwell, after
he had tested several thousand dollars' worth of them. "And if poor old
Batavsky's spirit is hovering near to me, and to the yellow coin he
devoted to the advancement of human liberty and equality, it shall see
that I shall prove true to my trust. To-morrow I will away to Berlin, to
place this to my credit, after which--well, after which, we shall see!"
Then he fell into a reverie. He dreamed a thousand things and considered
a thousand possibilities, but as he pushed them away for future
consideration, the form of the beautiful Laura Clark filled his mental
vision.
What had become of her, and what did she think of his conduct?
Beautiful and rich, it would be strange, indeed, if she had not long ago
found a mate, but he resolved to write to her father in New York,
explaining the whole business, if only to clear himself of any blame
that his mysterious disappearance had produced.
Yes; but not until after he had deposited this gold in the Royal Bank at
Berlin.
The next morning he rode away with his golden freight, and at the first
regular railroad station that he came upon he placed his wagon and
horses in the hands of the Royal Express, engaging that the whole
equipment should be delivered safely at the Royal Bank of Berlin, it
being understood that his servant, Ulrich, should sleep in the car
containing the horses and carriage until their safe delivery as agreed
upon.
The journey occupied two days, but at the end of it Barnwell had the
satisfaction of landing his gold in the vaults of the Royal Bank, and
having his credit established there for an almost unlimited amount,
although the old Russian coin, coming in such a strange way, excited
much comment with the bank officials who counted and weighed it.
There was a mystery surrounding so much money, deposited all at once and
in such a way, but the depositor proved himself all right so far as his
papers and nationality were concerned; and in a very short time young
Barnwell came to be known as the Fairies' Son, a man to whom they had
given unlimited wealth, every rouble of which would double itself at
their bidding.
This, of course, did not obtain with the officers of the bank. They
simply looked at the gold, counted and weighed.
But Barnwell was pleased to be regarded as a Fairies' Son, for it would
enable him to work more effectually.
And it was not long before he became known to the Nihilists residing in
Berlin, and, naturally enough, he soon became a leading man among them.
He took modest lodgings, supporting only his servant, but in spite of
all precautions, he was shadowed by Russian police agents, who seem to
be everywhere.
It is one of the most perfect and far-reaching police systems in the
world, and before Barnwell had been there a month they learned all about
him.
And this, of course, showed them all he had so unjustly suffered, and
they could well understand then why he associated with well-known
Nihilists, having undoubtedly become one himself for revenge.
But they could not penetrate the mystery of his enormous wealth, unless,
indeed, he were one of those famous American bonanza kings, or at least
the son of one, and obtained his wealth directly from America.
Try their best, however, they could not entrap him so that the German
authorities would molest him, for in a very short time he was surrounded
by as faithful a set of detectives as those employed by the Russian
police, and the game soon became diamond cut diamond.
But while all these moves were being made--one to find out what the
other was doing--other and unsuspected moves were being made which were
to astound the world.
Suddenly, and without any visible or traceable reason, the spirit of
Russian Nihilism began to flame again, and with greater fierceness than
ever before.
Nihilist papers and documents, printed both in the Russian and Polish
languages, were scattered broadcast, and in such a secret manner that
the police were wholly at fault, and the despots of Russia began to
tremble as they had never done before.
Money seemed to be plentiful, and a more perfect organization effected
than were the Russian police.
Day by day it grew, and a dread uncertainty pervaded the society of the
aristocrats, and the utmost precautions were taken to protect the life
of the Czar Alexander and the royal family.
Now and then the police would discover Nihilists at work; but all the
branches worked independently, and the detection of one could not lead
to what the others were doing.
But what astonished and bothered the Russian police was the simple
perfection to which the Nihilists had been reduced in their way of
working, showing unmistakably that a skillful organizer was at their
head.
The great mystery surrounding everything completely baffled the Russian
police, and though they half suspected Barnwell, they were not able to
bring anything home to him, and he all the while maintained the
appearance of a rich cosmopolitan, and if they followed him in his many
journeyings they were unable to see that he was doing more than
traveling for pleasure.
One day, while riding in "Unter Linden," who should he meet but Mr.
Clark and his beautiful daughter riding in the opposite direction, but
he was so changed that neither of them recognized him, although looking
directly at him.
Laura Clark was also somewhat changed, but by her being in her father's
company, Barnwell came to the conclusion that she was yet unmarried, and
had most likely proved true to their betrothal, nearly three years
before.
He was determined to present himself, and so ordered his coachman to
turn about and follow their carriage.
In a few moments it stopped in front of a fashionable hotel, which they
entered, and were soon lost to sight.
Calling a servant, he told him to take his card to Mr. Clark, and
quietly waited in the parlor for a reply.
Presently that gentleman came down with the card in his hand, and a look
of inquiry on his face.
"Mr. Clark, you do not recognize me," said he, rising.
"No, not as a young American gentleman, bearing the name of William
Barnwell, whom I met some three or four years ago," said the old man.
"Well, sir, I am the same individual."
"Indeed, but you have greatly changed."
There was an unmistakable coolness visible in Mr. Clark's conduct
towards him, but he readily understood why it was so, for after
betrothing himself to his daughter he had disappeared mysteriously, and
given no sign.
"Well, sir, when you learn what I have been through since last we met,
you will not wonder at the change in me. Is Laura well?"
Mr. Clark looked at him a moment without making any reply, then
beckoning him to follow, led the way to their parlors.
"Are you sure she will welcome me, sir?"
"That will depend; Laura, please come this way a moment," he called.
"Yes, papa, dear, what is it?" she asked, as she came from her chamber,
and her sweet voice thrilled him just as it used to.
"Do you know this gentleman?"
She gazed at Barnwell a moment, and then sat down in a chair without
speaking.
"Do you not recognize me, Miss Clark?"
"It is barely possible that you are Mr. Barnwell, but if so, you are
greatly changed," she said, calmly.
"Yes, I am William Barnwell; there is good cause for the change you see
in me. I saw you driving out, but now, and resolved to see you both, if
for no other reason than to explain my conduct to you."
Then he proceeded to relate the story of his life since parting with
them, the story that the reader knows so well, holding them spellbound
for an hour or more with it, after which he was forgiven, and their old
relations resumed, greatly to the delight of all three, and especially
of Mr. Clark, who had noticed that his daughter was becoming more and
more low-spirited as the time grew longer, and Barnwell not heard from.