Jennie went early to the station on the night of the 21st and entered
the sleeping car as soon as she was allowed to do so. The conductor
seemed unaccountably flustered at her anxiety to get to her room, and he
examined her ticket with great care; then, telling her to follow him,
brought her to Room B, in which were situated berths 5 and 6, upper and
lower. The berths were not made up, and the room showed one seat, made
to accommodate two persons. The conductor went out on the platform
again, and Jennie, finding herself alone in the carriage, walked up and
down the narrow passage-way at the side, to get a better idea of her
surroundings.
[Illustration: PLAN OF SLEEPING CAR.]
Room C, next to her own, was the one taken by the British Embassy. Room
D, still further on, was the one that appeared to have been retained by
the police. She stood for a few moments by the broad plate-glass window
that lined the passage and looked out at the crowded platform. For a
time she watched the conductor, who appeared to be gazing anxiously
towards the direction from which passengers streamed, as if looking for
someone in particular. Presently a big man, a huge overcoat belted round
him, with a stern bearded face--looking, the girl thought, typically
Russian--strode up to the conductor and spoke earnestly with him. Then
the two turned to the steps of the car, and Jennie fled to her narrow
little room, closing the door all but about an inch. An instant later
the two men came in, speaking together in French. The larger man had
a gruff voice and spoke the language in a way that showed it was not
native to him.
“When did you learn that he had changed his room?” asked the man with
the gruff voice.
“Only this afternoon,” replied the conductor.
“Did you bore holes between that and the adjoining compartment?”
“Yes, Excellency; but Azof did not tell me whether you wanted the holes
at the top or the bottom.”
“At the bottom, of course,” replied the Russian. “Any fool might have
known that. The gas must rise, not fall; then when he feels its effect
and tumbles down, he will be in a denser layer of it, whereas, if we put
it in the top, and he fell down, he would come into pure air, and so
might make his escape. You did not bore the hole over the top berth, I
hope?”
“Yes, Excellency, but I bored one at the bottom also.”
“Oh, very well, we can easily stop the one at the top. Have you fastened
the window? for the first thing these English do is to open a window.”
“The window is securely fastened, your Excellency, unless he breaks the
glass.”
“Oh, he will not think of doing that until it is too late. The English
are a law-abiding people. How many other passengers are there in the
car?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Excellency, the Room B has been taken by an
English lady, who is there now.”
“Ten thousand devils!” cried the Russian in a hoarse whisper. “Why did
you not say that before?”
The voices now fell to so low a murmur that Jennie could not distinguish
the words spoken. A moment later there was a rap at her door, and she
had presence of mind enough to get in the further corner, and say in a
sleepy voice,--
“Come in!”
The conductor opened the door.
“_Votre billet, s’il vous plaît, madame.”_
“Can’t you speak English?” asked Jennie.
The conductor merely repeated his question, and as Jennie was shaking
her head the big Russian looked over the conductor’s shoulder and said
in passable English,--
“He is asking for your ticket, madam. Do you not speak French?” In
answer to this direct question Jennie, fumbling in her purse for her
ticket, replied,--
“I speak English, and I have already shown him my ticket.” She handed
her broad-sheet sleeping-car ticket to the Russian, who had pushed the
conductor aside and now stood within the compartment.
“There has been a mistake,” he said. “Room C is the one that has been
reserved for you.”
“I am sure there isn’t any mistake,” said Jennie. “I booked berths
5 and 6. See, there are the numbers,” pointing to the metallic plates by
the door, “and here are the same numbers on the ticket.”
The Russian shook his head.
“The mistake has been made at the office of the Sleeping Car Company. I
am a director of the Company.”
“Oh, are you?” asked Jennie innocently. “Is Room C as comfortable as
this one?”
“It is a duplicate of this one, madam, and is more comfortable, because
it is nearer the centre of the car.”
“Well, there is no mistake about my reserving the two berths, is there?”
“Oh, no, madam, the room is entirely at your disposal.”
“Well, then, in that case,” said Jennie, “I have no objection to making
a change.”
She knew that she would be compelled to change, no matter what her
ticket recorded, so she thought it best to play the simple maiden
abroad, and make as little fuss as possible about the transfer. She had
to rearrange the car in her mind. She was now in Room C, which had been
first reserved by the British Embassy. It was evident that at the
last moment the messenger had decided to take Room A, a four-berth
compartment at the end of the car. The police then would occupy Room B,
which she had first engaged, and, from the bit of conversation she had
overheard, Jennie was convinced that they intended to kill or render
insensible the messenger who bore the important letter. The police were
there not to protect, but to attack. This amazing complication in the
plot concentrated all the girl’s sympathies on the unfortunate man who
was messenger between two great personages, even though he travelled
apparently under the protection of the British Embassy at St.
Petersburg. The fact, to put it baldly, that she had intended to rob
him herself, if opportunity occurred, rose before her like an accusing
ghost. “I shall never undertake anything like this again,” she cried
to herself, “never, never,” and now she resolved to make reparation to
the man she had intended to injure. She would watch for him until he
came down the passage, and then warn him by relating what she had heard.
She had taken off her hat on entering the room; now she put it on
hurriedly, thrusting a long pin through it. As she stood up, there was a
jolt of the train that caused her to sit down again somewhat hurriedly.
Passing her window she saw the lights of the station; the train was in
motion. “Thank Heaven!” she cried fervently, “he is too late. Those
plotting villains will have all their trouble for nothing.”
She glanced upwards towards the ceiling and noticed a hole about an inch
in diameter bored in the thin wooden partition between her compartment
and the next. Turning to the wall behind her she saw that another hole
had been bored in a similar position through to Room B. The car had been
pretty thoroughly prepared for the work in hand, and Jennie laughed
softly to herself as she pictured the discomfiture of the conspirators.
The train was now rushing through the suburbs of St. Petersburg, when
Jennie was startled by hearing a stranger’s voice say in French,--
“Conductor, I have Room A; which end of the car is that?”
“This way, Excellency,” replied the conductor. Everyone seemed to be
“Excellency” with him. A moment later, Jennie, who had again risen to
her feet, horrified to learn that, after all, the messenger had come,
heard the door of his room click. Everything was silent save the purring
murmur of the swiftly moving train. She stood there for a few moments
tense with excitement, then bethought herself of the hole between her
present compartment and the one she had recently left. She sprang up
on the seat, and placing her eye with some caution at the hole, peered
through. First she thought the compartment was empty, then noticed there
had been placed at the end by the window a huge cylinder that reached
nearly to the ceiling of the room. The lamp above was burning brightly,
and she could see every detail of the compartment, except towards the
floor. As she gazed a man’s back slowly rose; he appeared to have been
kneeling on the floor, and he held in his hand the loop of a rubber
tube. Peering downwards, she saw that it was connected with the
cylinder, and that it was undoubtedly pouring whatever gas the cylinder
contained through the hole into Room A. For a moment she had difficulty
in repressing a shriek; but realizing how perfectly helpless she was,
even if an alarm were raised, she fought down all exclamation. She saw
that the man who was regulating the escape of gas was not the one who
had spoken to the conductor. Then, fearing that he might turn his head
and see her eye at the small aperture, she reached up and covered the
lamp, leaving her own room in complete darkness. The double covering,
which closed over the semi-globular lamp like an eyelid, kept every ray
of light from penetrating into the compartment she occupied.
As Jennie turned to her espionage again, she heard a blow given to the
door in Room A that made it chatter, then there was a sound of a heavy
fall on the floor. The door of Room B was flung open, the head of the
first Russian was thrust in, and he spoke in his own language a single
gruff word. His assistant then turned the cock and shut off the gas from
the cylinder. The door of Room B was instantly shut again, and Jennie
heard the rattle of the key as Room A was being unlocked.
Jennie jumped down from her perch, threw off her hat, and, with as
little noise as possible, slid her door back an inch or two. The
conductor had unlocked the door of Room A, the tall Russian standing
beside him saying in a whisper,--
“Never mind the man, he’ll recover the moment you open the door and
window; get the box. Hold your nose with your fingers and keep your
mouth shut. There it is, that black box in the corner.”
The conductor made a dive into the room, and came out with an ordinary
black despatch-box.
The policeman seemed well provided with the materials for his
burglarious purpose. He selected a key from a jingling bunch, tried it;
selected another; then a third, and the lid of the despatch-box was
thrown back. He took out a letter so exactly the duplicate of the one
Jennie possessed that she clutched her own document to see if it were
still in her pocket. The Russian put the envelope between his knees and
proceeded to lock the box. His imagination had not gone to any such
refinement as the placing of a dummy copy where the original had been.
Quick as thought Jennie acted. She slid open the door quietly and
stepped out into the passage. So intent were the two men on their work
that neither saw her. The tall man gave the box back to the conductor,
then took the letter from between his knees, holding it in his right
hand, when Jennie, as if swayed by the motion of the car, lurched
against him, and, with a sleight of hand that would have made her
reputation on a necromantic stage, she jerked the letter from the amazed
and frightened man; at the same moment allowing the bogus document to
drop on the floor of the car from her other hand. The conductor had just
emerged from Room A, holding his nose and looking comical enough as he
stood there in that position, amazed at the sudden apparition of the
lady. The Russian struck down the conductor’s fingers with his right
hand, and by a swift motion of the left closed the door of Compartment
A, all of which happened in a tenth of the time taken to tell it.
“Oh, pardon me!” cried Jennie in English, “I’m afraid a lurch of the car
threw me against you.”
The Russian, before answering, cast a look at the floor and saw the
large envelope lying there with its seal uppermost. He quietly placed
his huge foot upon it, and then said, with an effort at politeness,--
“It is no matter, madam. I fear I am so bulky that I have taken up most
of the passage.”
“It is very good of you to excuse me,” said Jennie; “I merely came out
to ask the conductor if he would make up my berth. Would you be good
enough to translate that to him?”
The Russian surlily told the conductor to attend to the wants of the
lady. The conductor muttered a reply, and that reply the Russian
translated.
“He will be at your service in a few moments, madam. He must first make
up the berth of the gentleman in Room A.”
“Oh, thank you very much,” returned Jennie. “I am in no hurry; any time
within the hour will do.”
With that she retired again into her compartment, the real letter
concealed in the folds of her dress, the bogus one on the floor under
the Russian’s foot. She closed the door tightly, then, taking care that
she was not observed through either of the holes the conductor had bored
in the partition, she swiftly placed the important document in a deep
inside pocket of her jacket. As a general rule, women have inside
pockets in their capes, and outside pockets in their jackets; but
Jennie, dealing as she did with many documents in the course of her
profession, had had this jacket especially made, with its deep and roomy
inside pocket. She sat on a corner of the sofa, wondering what was to
be the fate of the unfortunate messenger, for, in spite of the sudden
shutting of the door by the Russian, she caught a glimpse of the man
lying face downwards on the floor of his stifling room. She also had
received a whiff of the sweet, heavy gas which had been used, that
seemed now to be tincturing the whole atmosphere of the car, especially
in the long narrow passage. It was not likely they intended to kill
the man, for his death would cause an awkward investigation, while his
statement that he had been rendered insensible might easily be denied.
As she sat there, the silence disturbed only by the low, soothing rumble
of the train, she heard the ring of the metal cylinder against the
woodwork of the next compartment. The men were evidently removing
their apparatus. A little later the train slowed, finally coming to a
standstill, and looking out of the window into the darkness, she found
they were stopping at an ill-lighted country station. Covering the light
in the ceiling again, the better to see outside, herself, unobserved,
she noted the conductor and another man place the bulky cylinder on the
platform, without the slightest effort at concealment. The tall Russian
stood by and gave curt orders. An instant later the train moved on
again, and when well under way there was a rap at her door. When she
opened it, the conductor said that he would make up her berth now, if it
so pleased her. She stood out in the corridor while this was deftly
and swiftly done. She could not restrain her curiosity regarding the
mysterious occupant of Room A, and to satisfy it she walked slowly up
and down the corridor, her hands behind her, passing and repassing the
open door of her room, and noticing that ever and anon the conductor
cast a suspicious eye in her direction.
The door of Room A was partly open, but the shaded lamp in the
ceiling left the interior in darkness. There was now no trace of the
intoxicating gas in the corridor, and as she passed Room A she noticed
that a fresh breeze was blowing through the half open doorway, therefore
the window must be up. Once as she passed her own door she saw the
conductor engaged in a task which would keep him from looking into the
corridor for at least a minute, and in that interval she set her
doubts at rest by putting her head swiftly into Room A, and as swiftly
withdrawing it. The man had been lifted on to his sofa, and lay with his
face towards the wall, his head on a pillow. The despatch-box rested on
a corner of the sofa, where, doubtless, he had left it. He was breathing
heavily like a man in a drunken sleep; but the air of the room was sweet
and fresh, and he would doubtless recover.
Jennie still paced up and down, pondering deeply over what had happened.
At first, when she had secured the important document, she had made up
her mind to return it to the messenger; but further meditation induced
her to change her mind. The messenger had been robbed by the Russian
police; he would tell his superiors exactly what had happened, and yet
the letter would reach its destination as speedily as if he had brought
it himself--as if he had never been touched. Knowing the purpose which
Mr. Hardwick had in his mind, Jennie saw that the letter now was of
tenfold more value to him than it would have been had she taken it from
the messenger. It was evident that the British Embassy, or the messenger
himself, had suspicions that an attempt was to be made to obtain the
document, otherwise Room C of the sleeping car would not have been
changed for Room A at the very last moment. If, then, the editor could
say to the official, “The Russian police robbed your messenger in spite
of all the precautions that could be taken, and my emissary cozened the
Russians; so, you see, I have accomplished what the whole power of the
British Government was powerless to effect; therefore it will be wisdom
on your part to come to terms with me.”
Jennie resolved to relate to Hardwick exactly how she came into
possession of the document, and she knew his alert nature well enough to
be sure he would make the most of the trump card dealt to him.
“Your room is ready for you,” said the conductor in French.
She had the presence of mind enough not to comprehend his phrase until,
with a motion of his hand, he explained his meaning. She entered her
compartment and closed the door.
Having decided what disposal to make of the important document, there
now arose in her mind the disquieting problem whether or not it would be
allowed to remain with her. She cogitated over the situation and tried
to work out the mental arithmetic of it. Trains were infrequent on the
Russian railways, and she had no means of estimating when the burly
ruffian who had planned and executed the robbery would get back to St.
Petersburg. There was no doubt that he had not the right to open the
letter and read its contents; that privilege rested with some higher
official in St. Petersburg. The two men had got off at the first
stopping place. It was quite possible that they would not reach the
capital until next morning, when the Berlin express would be well on its
way to the frontier. Once over the frontier she would be safe; but the
moment it was found that the purloined envelope merely contained a
copy of an English newspaper, what might not happen? Would the Russian
authorities dare telegraph to the frontier to have her searched, or
would the big official who had planned the robbery suspect that she, by
legerdemain, had become possessed of the letter so much sought for? Even
if he did suspect her, he would certainly have craft enough not to admit
it. His game would rather be to maintain that this was the veritable
document found in the Englishman’s despatch-box; and it was more than
likely, taking into consideration the change of room at the last moment,
which would show the officials the existence of suspicion in the
messenger’s mind, or in the minds of those who sent him, the natural
surmise would be that another messenger had gone with the real document,
and that the robbed man was merely a blind to delude the Russian police.
In any case, Jennie concluded, there was absolutely nothing to do but
to remain awake all night and guard the treasure which good luck
had bestowed upon her. She stood up on her bed, about to stuff her
handkerchief into the hole bored in the partition, but suddenly paused
and came down to the floor again. No, discomforting as it was to remain
in a room under possible espionage, she dared not stop the openings, as
that would show she had cognisance of them, and arouse the conductor’s
suspicion that, after all, she had understood what had been said;
whereas, if she left them as they were, the fact of her doing so would
be strong confirmation of her ignorance. She took from her bag a scarf,
tied one end round her wrist and the other to the door, so that it could
not be opened, should she fall asleep, without awakening her. Before
entrenching herself thus, she drew the eyelids down over the lamp, and
left her room in darkness. Then, if anyone did spy upon her they would
not see the dark scarf which united her wrist with the door.
In spite of the danger of her situation she had the utmost difficulty in
keeping awake. The rumble of the train had a very somnolent effect, and
once or twice she started up, fearing that she had been slumbering. Once
she experienced a tightening sensation in her throat, and sprang to the
floor, seeing the rising gas somehow made visible, the colour of blood.
The scarf drew her to her knees, and for a moment she thought someone
clutched her wrist. Panting, she undid the scarf and flooded the room
with light. Her heart was beating wildly, but all was still, save the
ever-present rumble of the train rushing through the darkness over the
boundless plains of Russia. She looked at her tiny watch, it was two
o’clock in the morning. She knew then that she must have fallen asleep
in spite of her strong resolutions. The letter was still in the inside
pocket of her jacket, and all was well at two in the morning. No eye
appeared at either of the apertures, so she covered up the light once
more and lay down again, sighing to think how rumpled her dainty costume
would look in the morning. Now she was resolved not to go to sleep, if
force of will could keep her awake. A moment later she was startled by
someone beating down the partition with an axe. She sprang up, and again
the scarf pulled her back. She untied it from her wrist and noticed
that daylight flooded the compartment. This amazed her; how could it
be daylight so soon? Had she been asleep again, and was the fancied
battering at the door with an axe merely the conclusion of a dream
caused by the conductor’s knock? After a breathless pause there came a
gentle rap on her door, and the voice of the conductor said,--
“Breakfast at Luga, madame, in three-quarters of an hour.”
“Very good,” she replied in English, her voice trembling with fear.
Slowly she untied the scarf from the door and placed it in her handbag.
She shivered notwithstanding her effort at self-control, for she knew
she had slept through the night, and far into the morning. In agitation
she unbuttoned her jacket. Yes; there was the letter, just where she had
placed it. She dare not take it out and examine it, fearing still that
she might be watched from some unseen quarter, but “Thank God,” she
said to herself fervently, “this horrible night is ended. Once over the
frontier I am safe.” She smoothed and brushed down her dress as well as
she was able, and was greatly refreshed by her wash in cold water, which
is one of the luxuries, not the least acceptable, on a sleeping car.