MISSING.
WHEN the day was far spent and there was still no sign of M. de
Lambert, I began to share Madame de Brousson’s solicitude. That he
could be again duped when he knew that Najine was miles away, seemed
improbable, but I could expect almost any folly from his impetuosity.
Pierrot had been out in search of him, but without result, and came
back manifestly disquieted, for years had not dulled his suspicion of
the Russian. He told me too that he had seen Tikhon in the vicinity
of my quarters, and I saw that he suspected some plot to make away
with M. Guillaume. This seemed improbable to me, because of the czar’s
order for his departure, for it would be unnecessary to deal summarily
with the young man until he failed to obey the instructions. However,
I became uneasy and, ordering my horse, took Pierrot and started for
Prince Dolgoruky’s house. I could, at least, observe the prince, and
learn something of his designs, especially if he had really interfered
with M. de Lambert. We rode at a smart pace, and in a few moments I
was dismounting in the courtyard. While he did not assume the state
of Mentchikof, Dolgoruky belonged to the older boyars, and there was
more of the ceremony of twenty years before about his household. I was
ushered into his presence by an old Russian attendant who had probably
performed that office in the family for fifty years. The prince was not
alone, but surrounded by a group of friends, and, to my discomfiture,
attended by Zotof, who, I fancied, smiled a little at my entrance.
His presence disconcerted me, suggesting, as it did, an intimate
relation between the two, and therefore strengthening the probability
of Dolgoruky’s interference with my friend. However, I put a bold face
upon the matter, and, waiving the formal courtesy of the occasion,
spoke to the point, inventing a story for the purpose of entrapping him.
“I come on a pressing errand, prince,” I said at once. “M. de Lambert,
a gentleman of my suite, left my house this morning at a summons from
one of your household and has not yet returned. His presence being
imperative at my quarters, owing to a message from his Majesty the
Czar, I came here to inquire for him. Doubtless you can tell me where
he is.”
Dolgoruky stared at me with an astonishment that was either genuine or
exceedingly well feigned; then, turning to his friends, he exclaimed,--
“I call you to witness, gentlemen, the extraordinary demand of M. de
Brousson. He asks me to produce a French soldier whom I have not seen
for at least a fortnight and then at the palace.”
“M. de Brousson is a very extraordinary person,” remarked Zotof,
calmly. “He demands M. de Lambert at your hands, and yet refused to
account for my niece, Najine Alexeievna, when she visited his wife.”
“Then let us make a bargain, M. l’Ambassadeur,” said Dolgoruky,
smiling; “if you will produce Najine Zotof, we will endeavor to find M.
de Lambert.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I am not a magician, gentlemen,” I said
dryly, “but I must account to the king my master for an officer of his
household troops, in the person of Guillaume de Lambert. King Louis
loves not an injury offered to any true Frenchman.”
The Russians looked at me intently. I was standing before them, my hat
in my hand, and my cloak still thrown across my shoulders, armed and
booted as I had ridden, and I was measuring them with a certain scorn
of their ability to dupe me, yet curious too as to their own estimate
of the situation, for I no longer doubted that they knew something of
M. de Lambert.
“All honor to the King of France,” Dolgoruky replied suavely; “long may
he live and learn to stand with Russia against the madman of Sweden
and the Turk! Why should I desire to offend his Majesty?”
“Nevertheless, the king will be gravely offended, Prince Dolgoruky,”
I said calmly, “if I cannot account for this young man who has served
with conspicuous gallantry in the armies of France.”
“Am I his keeper, M. l’Ambassadeur?” exclaimed the prince, tartly. “Why
do you demand a hot-headed boy at my hands?”
For a moment I did not reply. I wished my words to have additional
weight, and I let a silence intervene and then spoke with deliberation.
“I asked him at your hands, prince,” I said, “because you have set a
spy upon him for two months and more. It was your man, Tikhon, who
dogged his steps before Apraxin joined the pursuit and attempted to
assassinate him. I am responsible for his life, and am compelled to
demand your aid in my search for him.”
Dolgoruky’s face flushed deeply at my words, and I saw that he was
struggling with a passionate impulse to reply with violence, and his
anger was reflected in the faces of his friends. But he had much at
stake and was something of a diplomat; before I finished speaking, he
had smoothed his brow and was looking at me with candid reproach.
“You do me foul injustice, M. le Vicomte,” he said plaintively; “how
have I deserved such treatment at your hands? My assistance you shall
have. Tikhon shall go with you into every corner of Moscow, to search
for this young gentleman.”
He had assumed the only tone possible to evade my importunity, and I
was astonished at the ease with which he played the injured party.
I could not quarrel with so passive a foe, and was forced to accept
Tikhon for what he was worth as a guide. I had no authority to search
Dolgoruky’s house, and indeed doubted that he would attempt to detain
M. de Lambert there.
So it was that, baffled in my intention of taunting him into an
acknowledgment of his work, I left his house as quickly as possible to
prosecute my search, accompanied by Tikhon, who rode along sullenly
enough with Pierrot, for he probably still remembered the day when M.
de Lambert had stretched him on the pavement of the Grand Square of
the Kremlin. In truth, I scarcely knew what use to make of the silent
Russian, who protested an ignorance as great as his master’s, but whom
I suspected of considerable malevolence, for he was not the man to
forget or forgive.
We rode back rapidly to my quarters to inquire if M. de Lambert had
returned in the interval, and, finding that he was yet absent, went
on upon our errand. The improbability of his voluntarily staying so
long away now that Najine was absent was palpable enough, and I had no
longer any doubt that he had met with foul play. We had searched every
quarter where he was likely to visit, with the result of receiving
repeated assurances that he had not been seen that day, and I was
deeply disquieted. The dusk was gathering, and we rode back upon our
tracks in an aimless fashion. I had ordered my two attendants in front,
and was riding several yards behind absorbed in troubled thought. We
were below the Kremlin, on the bank of the Moskva, and so lost was I in
meditation that I started when my horse shied at the sudden appearance
of a man before him. The stranger laid his hand on my bridle, and I
drew my pistol, thinking him some cut-purse.
“You stop me at your peril, knave,” I said harshly, wrenching the rein
free.
“Do not shoot, sir!” he exclaimed, and I knew his voice at once; it was
the Swedish spy.
“You took a serious risk,” I remarked, putting up my weapon; “what
would you have from me?”
“You are searching for M. de Lambert,” he said quietly; “I have heard
of it. That man Tikhon knows something--and also, monsieur, Apraxin is
here again.”
I started; these were evil tidings, for I looked upon him as an
assassin. The Swede’s knowledge did not astonish me, since it was his
business to acquire information, and his devoted gratitude had already
been proved. I leaned from my saddle and spoke to him in a low tone.
“I thank you,” I said; “learn all you can, for I fear that he has met
with foul play. They desire his absence or his death.”
“Compel yonder man to speak, M. le Vicomte,” he said earnestly, “and I
will do my best. One good turn deserves another;” and with these words
he slipped back behind the shadow of a low building, and I rode on.
He had scarcely detained me five minutes, but the others had gained
upon me and were quite a way in advance, so that as I went I had time
to formulate a plan for learning something definite from Tikhon. After
a while I rode faster and, overtaking them, ordered them to proceed to
the Zemlianui-gorod by way of a lonely lane with which I was familiar.
It was now quite dark, and the quiet of the hour and the place suited
my purpose. When we had reached the loneliest spot, I called Pierrot to
me under the pretence that my saddle needed a tighter girth, and thus
found an opportunity to whisper a word or so in his ear. Tikhon had
halted and was waiting in sullen acquiescence, when Pierrot and I rode
forward, one on either side of him, and, Pierrot seizing his horse’s
rein, I pressed my pistol to his temple. He was taken unawares, and for
the moment, I think, was badly frightened.
“We have had enough of this child’s play,” I said sternly, “and now
you can tell us where to find M. de Lambert or you can die--like the
miserable wretch that you are.”
“I know nothing,” he replied stubbornly; “it will avail nothing to kill
me.”
“Tush, man!” I exclaimed sharply, “a spy is never so ignorant. You
cannot escape me. Either take me to M. de Lambert, or tell me where to
find him.”
“I can do neither,” he retorted, in the same sullen tone, gaining
courage because I did not immediately execute my threat. “I know
nothing, nor does the prince my master.”
“Probably you know how to say your prayers,” I remarked dryly, “in
which case you had better say them, for you have only about five
minutes to live. I give you so much space to choose between confession
and eternity.”
He did not reply. I think he only just began to believe that I was
in earnest. He was not a coward, but the touch of cold steel thrills
even a strong man. There was no chance of escape for him; we were in a
desolate spot, and the night grew intensely dark. There was no sound
as we sat there on our horses but their occasional restive movements.
Pierrot held his bridle with an iron grip, and I had covered him with
my weapon. A pistol-shot more or less would not be noticed in Moscow,
and death stared him in the face. In the silence I could hear his
breath coming short and thick, and knew his heart was failing him. He
could not see my face, and I smiled in the darkness. It would not be
necessary to use violence. He was struggling hard with himself, and
I had no doubt that he had cause to fear the result of a confession.
Dolgoruky, of course, had bound him to fidelity, and it was possible
that he saw death as an alternative on either hand, for the prince
would never pardon the betrayal of his trust, and he must have placed
great confidence in this man or he would not have permitted him to go
with me. The minutes passed, and Tikhon was silent, still doubtless
hoping for rescue. The stillness was oppressive; the city was strangely
quiet, only, far off, a cathedral bell tolled twice from the Kremlin.
Once more I raised and levelled my pistol.
“The time has expired,” I said quietly. “I shall count three before I
fire, therefore be prepared for eternity.”
Still he did not speak; he had a stubborn courage which was slow to
yield.
“One,” I counted, tightening my grip upon my horse’s rein, for it
seemed as if the fool was determined to rush upon his fate and I was
losing patience.
“Two!”
I heard him draw his breath with a gasp.
“Wait!” he cried thickly.
It had come at last, but I carried things with a high hand.
“Do not trifle,” I exclaimed sternly, “you are facing death; speak the
whole truth.”
“You are a hard man,” he said in his sullen voice. “I am likely to die
in either case, but I am not prepared now.”
“Be quick!” I cried with impatience; “where is M. de Lambert?”
“Where he is not likely to escape so easily,” he answered, with a
certain vicious triumph in his tone; “he is in a guard-room of the
Kremlin.”
I started; something in his tone convinced me that he spoke the truth,
and I was not prepared for it.
“He could not be there without the czar’s order,” I exclaimed, “and I
have his passports.”
“He was committed by the czar’s officers,” he replied.
“And you betrayed him into their hands,” I said fiercely.
“I did not,” he replied boldly; “not that I bore him any good-will, but
I had no need to do more than watch. Zotof’s relative, Apraxin, did the
work.”
“Ah!” I ejaculated, “where is the miserable coward?”
“Truly, I know not,” Tikhon said bluntly; “he is a sullen boy for whom
I have no love. He has doubtless taken care to escape your vengeance.”
“Not if he is in Moscow,” I said sharply, all the while thinking of
some way out of the difficulty.
“Are you satisfied, M. le Vicomte?” he asked after a moment; “am I at
liberty to live, having betrayed my trust?”
“If what you have told me proves true, you are safe,” I replied slowly;
“if it is false, you will answer for it. Let go his rein, Pierrot,
and ride with him to my quarters, and let him not escape your close
surveillance until I order his dismissal. I have another errand.”
I watched them ride away until their dark figures became parts of that
other darkness, and then, turning my horse’s head, made all speed to
the Kremlin.