COLONEL NORD OF RIGA.
The gray dawn stole over the sky, and when it was sufficiently light
for his purpose Sandoff drew out the bundle of papers and examined them
closely. One was the passport, made out in the name of Serge Zamosc and
companions—a form which admitted of a very wide construction. The others
were letters of instruction, which made clear—at least to a certain
point—the object of Zamosc’s journey across Siberia. It appeared that
the inspector was to report on the condition of Siberian prisons, with
a view to changes which the Minister of Police had in contemplation.
Moreover the nature of these letters showed that Zamosc’s mission was a
secret one, and among them was one document which enjoined all government
officials along the route to give him whatever aid he might require.
“I rely on this more than anything,” said Sandoff to his companion, “for
it puts us beyond the reach of unpleasant questioning. As for Vera, I
have a plan that promises well. I will say that she is the wife of some
Russian officer at Irkutsk, who is going to visit friends at Vladivostok,
and whom I have agreed to see to her destination.”
“Yes, that is a splendid plan,” rejoined Shamarin. “But yourself, are you
in no danger?”
“Very little, I think,” said Sandoff confidently. “It is not likely that
we shall encounter any one who ever saw Zamosc, for he was never out of
Russia before. We will travel rapidly and make as few stops as possible.
We will part company with our captive as soon as Vladivostok is reached.”
“And what will you do with him in the meantime?” asked Shamarin. “Would
it not be best to put him out of the way?”
“By no means,” answered Sandoff decidedly. “I don’t propose to
commit murder. We will keep him constantly gagged and bound, and at
night—whenever we happen to be stopping at a post station—you, Shamarin,
will have to sleep in the sledge with him. We will keep him well covered
up, and with care none but ourselves will ever see him.”
Shamarin was satisfied with this plan, and promised to perform his part
faithfully. It was now fully light, and on reaching a lonely spot along
the road Sandoff turned the horses aside into the forest. The hood
was lifted from the end of the sledge, and while Vera was taking the
provisions out of the hamper, Sandoff placed the captive in an upright
position and removed the gag from his mouth. The early rays of the sun
were now shining into the sledge. As Zamosc surveyed the faces of his
companions his eyes gleamed with sudden recognition.
“I know you,” he muttered savagely. “I thought you were all drowned—they
told me so at the mines. You will pay dearly for this outrage. You know
full well that you can never escape.”
Sandoff turned to him with such ill repressed fury that the traitor’s
face grew livid with fear.
“I am glad that you know me, you black hearted scoundrel,” he cried
hoarsely. “If I gave you your deserts I should put an end to your
life, as I at first intended. But I have changed my mind, and shall be
satisfied to make you the instrument of our escape. I don’t intend to
part company with you, Zamosc, until we have reached the Pacific, and I
warn you now that if at any time you attempt to escape or to endanger us,
I will kill you as I would a dog.”
Zamosc made no reply, but a strange look of exultation shone about his
little eyes that quite escaped the notice of Sandoff and his companions.
A short time later, after gagging the captive and placing him in his nest
of rugs, Sandoff took the lines and drove the sledge back to the post
road.
During the next two weeks the fugitives traveled rapidly, obtaining
relays of horses whenever needed. They met plenty of travelers coming
from the opposite direction—merchants, squads of Cossacks, and
Russian officers journeying from one post to the other, but Sandoff’s
distinguished bearing and appearance, and the presence of Shamarin by
his side in Cossack uniform, precluded all possibility of detention or
suspicion. Vera and Zamosc were at all times out of sight, the covering
of the sledge being kept closely down. Sometimes they bivouacked along
the road, building fires for comfort and protection from wild animals.
Whenever they chanced to spend a night at a post station all passed off
well. The _starosta’s_ wife usually took charge of Vera, who was now
known as Madame Gunsburg, and Shamarin kept a close watch over Zamosc,
both sleeping in the sledge in the courtyard.
The latter bore his enforced captivity well in spite of the fact that
he was constantly bound and gagged—except when food was given him. He
stoutly refused to answer any questions, however—especially in regard
to the key of the small iron chest found in the sledge. The key was
certainly not on Zamosc’s person, and a thorough search of the sledge
failed to reveal it.
During the first week of their sledge journey the fugitives covered
nearly four hundred miles. But after they left the valley of the Amur
and turned southward along the valley of the Ussuri River, the weather
changed suddenly—an unusual event at this time of year, for it was but
the middle of March—and a thaw began, which speedily turned the post
road into a bed of slush and water. This lasted for two whole weeks,
making rapid traveling out of the question. At the end of that period
Sandoff and his companions found they had covered but one hundred and
fifty miles, and were still an equal distance from Vladivostok. They now
rarely met travelers, for it was the season of the year when journeying
by sledge or wagon is equally impossible, and from present indications
it would take them three weeks or a month to cover the brief distance
remaining.
But on the last night of March a cheering change came. They were stopping
at a post station on the Ussuri, and when Sandoff rose early, as was his
wont, and went out into the courtyard to see how Shamarin and Zamosc had
fared, he found the air bitterly cold, and the river, which had partly
broken up on the previous day, ice bound from bank to bank. The post
road, as far as the eye could reach, was smooth, hard and glassy.
No time was lost in starting, and as the fresh relay of horses bounded
forward under loose rein, with the sledge trailing lightly behind them,
Sandoff turned to his companions and cried exultantly: “Hurra! We are
safe! This cold spell won’t last long, but it will be quite sufficient
to carry us to Vladivostok—or nearly there, for I have no intention of
entering the town. We will make no more stops but push right on, and by
tomorrow night we ought to reach our journey’s end.”
At noon a village of some size was reached, Riga by name, and here the
passports of the travelers were demanded by a bearded Russian officer who
stopped the sledge before the military post in the center of the town.
He glanced over the document with sudden interest, whispering to several
companions standing near, and then handed it back to Sandoff.
“If your excellency wishes a good hotel,” he said, “I can direct you to
one—or perhaps you would prefer the hospitality of the barracks? The best
we have is at your service. Our commander, Colonel Nord, is absent, but
will return before evening.”
Sandoff looked doubtfully at the speaker, with a dim suspicion that
something was wrong.
“Give my best regards to Colonel Nord,” he said calmly. “Tell him that I
am in haste, and must go on to the next station.”
The officer was plainly taken aback by this answer. He looked at Sandoff,
and then at his companions, who were no less surprised. From his nest of
rugs, deep down in the sledge, Zamosc uttered a faint chuckle that no one
heard. Sandoff bowed with dignity to the officer, calmly gathered up the
lines, and called to the horses. The sledge moved slowly off, gaining
speed with each second, but the sharp command to stop that Sandoff more
than half feared did not come.
Vera was on her knees, peeping through a hole in the rear curtain.
“The officer is still standing in the center of the road,” she announced
eagerly. “He is talking to his companions, and pointing. Now the Cossacks
are coming out of the military post—a dozen of them. People are running
from their houses to see what is the matter.”
An interval of silence and suspense, during which the sledge moved
rapidly down the street.
“Now the officer has gone back,” continued Vera in a tone of relief, “and
the Cossacks are moving away too. Only a few peasants are in sight.”
A moment later the sledge passed into a hollow that concealed the town
from view, and when it reached the crest of the next ridge a single
Cossack could be seen standing before the military post. As the village
receded in the distance the fugitives began to feel more easy.
“I was greatly alarmed for a few seconds,” admitted Sandoff. “The officer
evidently expected us to stop, though I have no idea why. It is possible
that trouble will come out of this affair yet. If I thought so I would
suggest that we abandon the sledge and take to the forest with the
horses.”
“Try _him_,” suggested Shamarin with a backward jerk of his arm. “He’ll
know all about it.”
Sandoff was favorably impressed with this idea. Handing the lines to his
companion, he dropped into the sledge, hauled Zamosc out of the rugs, and
took the gag from his mouth.
“You heard our conversation at Riga a few moments ago,” he said sternly.
“Don’t try to deny it,” for Zamosc had suddenly assumed an expression of
guileless amazement.
“And suppose I did hear it,” he retorted defiantly, “what then?”
“Simply this,” replied Sandoff. “I wish to know, and I intend to know,
what it means. It will be to your interest to answer me, for if I find
hereafter that we are in danger of recapture I will shoot you without
mercy, whereas if we get safely to the coast you will be liberated.”
This plain statement seemed to have an effect on Zamosc.
“Since you take advantage of my helplessness I will tell you,” he said
reluctantly. “For more than a year past Colonel Nord, the military
commandant at Riga, has been beseeching the authorities at St. Petersburg
for a new barracks, and shortly before I began my journey he was notified
that I was coming and that I would make an inspection of the building and
report on its condition. I hope you are satisfied now.”
He bore Sandoff’s keen glance without flinching. Either he was telling
the truth, or he was an adept in the art of lying.
“That certainly seems plausible,” said Sandoff, as he regagged the
captive and put him back among the rugs. “Circumstances seem to bear
out his story. When I get to the next station I will telegraph back to
Colonel Nord that I was compelled to—no, I won’t either. I’ll let matters
go as they are. The colonel will be furious with rage, and will open
communication with St. Petersburg at once, but by the time he gets any
definite answer we shall be out of reach.”
Faster and faster sped the sledge. Mountains and hills, forests and
ravines loomed up ahead, shot swiftly by, and faded into the distance.
At last far off on the plain a speck appeared, and soon the speck was
transformed into a tiny Siberian village—a post house, a military
station, a telegraph office, and a few lonely cabins—not more than five
or six.
The sun was just sinking into a crimson bed of clouds when the faithful
horses entered the little street on a gallop. An instant later they were
pulled back on their haunches with foaming nostrils and steaming flanks,
as a gate swung suddenly across the road checking further progress. It
was directly in front of the little box-like military post that this
occurred, and as Sandoff broke into an angry exclamation at the audacity
of the deed, an officer came out into the road.
“What do you mean by this?” cried Sandoff angrily.
The man bowed almost to the ground. “Pardon, a thousand pardons, your
excellency!” he entreated. “There was no other way—you were going so
fast. The noise of the bells would have prevented you from hearing my
voice.”
“And now what do you want—my passport?” demanded Sandoff roughly.
“No! No! Your excellency, I beg you not. It is a matter of a different
nature. You are the honorable Inspector Serge Zamosc—I am not mistaken on
that?”
“Yes, I am he. Go on.”
“Well, your excellency, I have a telegram from Colonel Nord at Riga. He
wishes you to remain here until he comes. He has already started.”
“The devil you have!” exclaimed Sandoff blankly. “Well, my good fellow, I
am sorry I can’t oblige the colonel. I am in haste to get to Vladivostok,
and I really can’t afford to lose so much as an hour. Tell the colonel
that a man will come on from Vladivostok in a day or so to look into that
little matter of the barracks.”
“I—I am sorry, your excellency,” stammered the officer, “but Colonel Nord
will take no denial. He insists that you wait here, and I dare not allow
you to proceed.”
It was clear that Inspector Serge Zamosc might be a great man at home in
Russia, but here in Eastern Siberia Colonel Nord was a greater.
“Well,” said Sandoff, as he realized the situation and choked down his
anger, “I suppose you are only doing your duty. Since Colonel Nord is so
importunate I will await his arrival. How soon do you think that will be?”
“In two hours at the most,” replied the officer, “probably less. Until
then let me offer you the use of my guard house.”
“Thank you,” replied Sandoff shortly, “I will go to the post station and
get supper and order a relay of fresh horses. Colonel Nord will find me
there.”
He slowly turned the sledge around and drove into the court yard of the
station, which was but a few yards away. The _starosta_ came out to meet
the new arrival, rubbing his hands in gleeful anticipation of legitimate
robbery.
“You will remain over night, your honor?”
“No,” said Sandoff, “but I want a fresh relay of horses and some
refreshment. Attend to these tired beasts first, and when supper is ready
let us know. Meanwhile we will remain here.”
The _starosta’s_ cheerful expression faded away, but without more words
he unharnessed the horses and led them off to the stable. Sandoff climbed
to the ground, followed by Shamarin, and the latter assisted Vera to
dismount.
“Well,” said Sandoff, “what do you think of the situation?”
“Unfavorable!” replied Shamarin.
“I don’t agree with you,” exclaimed Vera quickly. “It is vexatious—that
is all. If this obstinate Colonel Nord will not be pacified,
Victor”—these two had long since dropped all formality of speech—“we’ll
have to return to Riga and inspect his barracks—that is, if the colonel’s
visit relates to this matter.”
She spoke in a peculiar tone that piqued Sandoff’s curiosity.
“What do you mean?” he asked quickly.
Vera placed her finger to her lips, and glanced toward the sledge.
“I will talk to you later on,” she whispered.
Shamarin did not observe this little bit of byplay. His eyes had been
fixed on the ground, and now he looked up and said uneasily, “It would
be better to escape if possible. One can’t predict what may come of this
visit.”
“I rather agree with you,” replied Sandoff. He walked to the courtyard
gate, looked out for a moment, and then came slowly back.
“Escape is impossible,” he said. “Two Cossacks are standing at the
western end of the street, and the gate before the military post is still
closed and guarded.”
The _starosta_ now appeared with the news that supper was waiting, so
Sandoff and Vera entered the house, leaving Shamarin with the sledge, and
promising to send him out some food.
Vera and her companion felt little desire to eat as they sat down at
opposite sides of the table. The post room was quite empty, and they
could talk without being overheard.
“Vera, what do you wish to tell me?” asked Sandoff, as he poured a cup of
tea from the samovar.
“Nothing,” she replied. “At least, nothing definite. I have only a vague
suspicion.”
“Of what?”
“Of the contents of that iron chest. I believe that Serge Zamosc invented
the story he told us about Colonel Nord, and I believe that the chest,
if opened, would enlighten us somewhat. I can’t tell you why I think so,
unless it is because Zamosc has been smiling to himself all day long and
turning his eyes in the direction of the chest, when he thought he was
unobserved.”
Sandoff did not reply for a moment. He ate a few mouthfuls of food, and
then rose from the table.
“Your suggestion is worth acting upon,” he said. “I intend to get that
chest open—by force if necessary, though I will make another short search
for the key.”
They passed out into the courtyard, the gate of which was already closed
for the night. Sandoff climbed into the sledge—to Shamarin’s surprise—and
hauling Zamosc to an upright position began a thorough search of his
clothing. It proved unsuccessful, and Sandoff was about to desist when a
sudden inspiration struck him. Dropping Zamosc on his back he drew off
his right boot. When Sandoff shook it something rattled, and placing his
hand inside he drew out a small iron key.
“At last!” he exclaimed. “Why did I not think of that before?”
“Hold on,” said Shamarin. “I will tell the _starosta_ that we have lost
something in the straw, and will borrow a lighted lantern from him.”
He went off in haste, and meanwhile Sandoff put his captive back among
the rugs and covered him up completely.
Shamarin returned in a moment, bringing the lantern, and handed it to
Sandoff. The latter drew the side and rear curtains of the sledge tightly
down and placed the lantern on one of the trunks, while Vera dragged the
iron chest from its place of concealment in the straw.
The key fitted the lock, and with a trembling hand Sandoff raised the lid.
A simultaneous cry of amazement issued from his and Vera’s lips. The
chest was more than half full of bank notes and stacks of gold coin. On
the top of them lay a folded paper. Sandoff was as pale as ashes as he
lifted this and glanced at its contents.
“That scoundrel Zamosc has deceived us,” he cried hoarsely. “But for
you, Vera, we should be lost. This paper explains it all. The government
took advantage of Serge Zamosc’s journey of prison inspection to appoint
him paymaster and send him on to Vladivostok with the annual salaries
of the East Siberian officials. Here is the list of names. It commences
with Colonel Nord, at Riga, 5,000 rubles, and, with the exception of two
points along the way, the others are in Vladivostok. No wonder that the
colonel is anxious to see me. He must have been apprised of Zamosc’s
visit beforehand. When he arrives I will pay him the money, make suitable
apologies, and then we will resume our journey. Help me to carry this
money into the post room. That will be the proper place for the interview
with the colonel.”
The two men conveyed the chest into the house between them, groaning
not a little under its ponderous weight, and then, leaving Vera to take
charge of it, Shamarin returned to the sledge, while Sandoff hunted up
the _starosta_ and ordered glasses and a bottle of wine to be taken into
the post room.
“I expect a visitor in a short time,” he said, “and as I may be delayed
with him longer than I expect I want you to put fresh horses into my
sledge at once. What do I owe you for your services?”
The _starosta_ named an exorbitant figure, but Sandoff paid it without
demur, and then waited in the courtyard until the three spirited horses
were harnessed.
He now went back into the post room, and sent Vera out to the sledge,
with instructions to draw the covering tightly and remain inside. Then he
paced up and down the room for probably half an hour, glancing through
the window from time to time into the courtyard.
All at once a ringing clatter of hoofs was heard that came nearer with
every second, and a moment later the sound of voices and a loud call for
the _starosta_ apprised Sandoff that the horsemen had entered the yard.
He glanced cautiously through the window, and could dimly make out five
mounted figures—Colonel Nord and his escort, beyond a doubt.
Leaving the window after the first hasty glance, Sandoff threw up the lid
of the chest, placed the paper on the table before him, lit a cigar, and
seated himself comfortably in a chair. He had hardly done so when the
door was thrown open, and the _starosta_ entered, followed by a large red
faced man in full uniform.
“Colonel Nord, your excellency,” he stammered, backing out of the room
and closing the door.
The colonel was unmistakably surprised at sight of Sandoff. He hesitated
a moment, and then, catching sight of the chest of money, bowed in a
formal manner.
Sandoff held out his hand.
“I am glad to see you, Colonel Nord. I owe you an apology for my
seemingly strange conduct this morning, and beg you will accept my
explanation——”
The colonel’s brow grew dark, and he glared at Sandoff under his bushy
eyebrows.
“Sir, I wish to see Inspector Zamosc,” he thundered. “_You are not the
man!_”
For an instant Sandoff could only stare at his visitor in hopeless
confusion. Here was a contingency that had never entered his head.
“What does this mean?” continued the colonel fiercely. “Is the inspector
afraid to meet me in person? Does he forget having made my acquaintance
in Petersburg last summer, that he attempts to palm off a substitute upon
me? I refuse to treat with you. I will not touch a cent of that money,
unless Inspector Zamosc counts it out with his own hand. Where is he? I
demand to see him.”
The irate colonel started for the door, and would have rushed out to the
sledge had not Sandoff checked him in time.
“Stop just a moment, Colonel Nord, and hear my explanation,” he
entreated. “It is true that I am not Inspector Zamosc—I am merely his
assistant. It was through a sad error that the inspector drove through
Riga this morning without stopping. He has now begged me to see you in
his stead and plead sickness as an excuse for his absence. He is out in
the sledge, but if you insist upon seeing him I will summon him.”
“Yes, I do insist upon seeing him,” the colonel replied with a grim
smile. “There are various private matters that must be discussed. Tell
the inspector that he needn’t be afraid of me,” he added with a short
chuckle.
“I will deliver your message,” replied Sandoff calmly. “Kindly excuse me
while I go to summon the inspector. You will find cigars and wine on the
table.”
“I had better accompany you,” said Colonel Nord jocosely. “The inspector
might take fright and run away. When he sees that I am not in a violent
rage he will be reassured.”
As he spoke he preceded his companion to the door. For a moment Sandoff
thought all was lost, but a idea occurred to him just in time.
“Beg pardon, colonel!” he exclaimed. “But all that money—would it be safe
to leave it here alone?”
“Ah, no, quite right!” muttered the colonel, glancing greedily at the
chest. “I will remain here. Be quick, though, for I must return to Riga
as soon as possible.”
Sandoff left the room with a firm step and composed bearing, but
nevertheless his brain was fairly bursting with the intensity of his
thoughts. He had but one idea—the necessity of making an immediate and
desperate dash for liberty.
The game was up. Just inside the door stood the four Cossacks who formed
Colonel Nord’s escort. They were laughing and talking boisterously, and
Sandoff noted with satisfaction that the _starosta_ had taken away their
horses—probably to be fed and watered. Here was one danger out of the
way. The sledge stood where he had left it, facing the road, and the
gates were wide open, the _starosta_ having neglected to close them after
Colonel Nord’s entry. Another favorable circumstance!
Sandoff calmly untied the strap that held the horses to the gate post.
Then he turned and slowly mounted the seat beside Shamarin. Even in the
dim light the marble pallor of his face was visible, and his companions
were quick to scent danger.
“Something has happened,” said Vera. “What is it, Victor?”
“Hush!” said Sandoff in a voice that they hardly recognized. “Not so
loud! All is lost and discovery is inevitable. Prepare the firearms for
use. All depends now on getting clear of the village.”
He gathered up the lines and Shamarin touched the horses with the whip.
They trotted out of the yard, the circlet of bells making merry music
over their heads, and turned up the street on a gallop.
“Those accursed bells!” muttered Sandoff. “Why did I not take them off?”
Then he fiercely jerked the horses to a standstill as the military post
loomed in view, with the barred gate stretching from side to side across
the road.
The officer who had stopped them before came out with a lantern.
“Open the gate,” demanded Sandoff. “I am in haste, and must make up for
lost time.”
The man hesitated. “Have you seen Colonel Nord already, your excellency?
He came but a moment or two ago.”
“Certainly, you blockhead!” roared Sandoff, losing control of himself.
“Else why should I be here? Open that gate instantly!”
The officer was cowed by this determined attitude, and moved forward with
the evident intention of obeying; but before he could take three steps a
door was heard to slam violently, and from the post yard came a volley of
shouts and curses, delivered in Colonel Nord’s high pitched voice. Then
followed answering cries, and a quick running of feet over the frozen
snow.
The officer halted, and looked keenly at the occupants of the sledge.
Then he called “Guard! guard!” in a shrill voice.
“Hold firm,” whispered Shamarin. “There’s only one way—I’ll do it—stand
by me.”
With a leap he was on the ground, and running toward the gate, where
stood a single Cossack. As he passed the officer the latter whipped out
his sword, and started in pursuit. Sandoff caught the gleam of steel,
and, leaning from the seat, whip in hand, he dealt the fellow so terrific
a blow on the arm that he dropped the weapon and howled with pain.
Shamarin reached the gate and was confronted by the burly soldier before
it, rifle in hand. There was no time for parleying. Shamarin dodged under
the Cossack’s rifle and flung the fellow to one side of the road, where
he lay stunned in the snow and ice. Then he dashed furiously at the
gate—which was fortunately not locked—and by a single blow knocked it
half way back on its hinges.
It was now Sandoff’s turn. Swinging his whip overhead, he brought it down
smartly on the horses. The spirited brutes plunged madly forward, and
he urged them with hoarse shouts to still greater speed. As they dashed
through the gateway, Shamarin regained his seat by a flying leap.
The whole affair had consumed but a few seconds. Before the Cossacks
could realize the audacity of the deed, the sledge and its occupants were
whizzing away into the night at a rate of speed that had seldom been
equaled on the great Siberian road.
The officer picked up his sword with his uninjured arm, and swore and
yelled alternately until he was hoarse. The vanquished Cossack rose to
his feet, and idiotically jerked the gate shut with a bang. The others
ran for their horses and mounted in hot haste—and in the midst of all the
confusion up clattered Colonel Nord and his escort, bawling at the top of
their voices.
“Idiot! Blockhead!” the colonel roared at the terrified officer. “You
will pay dearly for this! Why did you let those scoundrels through? Open
that gate at once—send after me all the men you have—telegraph to the
next station. Do you hear me?”
Then, as the gate swung back, the irate colonel and his squad of armed
Cossacks—now increased to nine—galloped madly through, and went pounding
along the frosty road in hot chase of the fugitive sledge.