Count Kallash finally decided on his course of action. It was too late
to seek justice for his sister, but not too late for a tardy
reparation. The gang had prospered greatly, and the share of Baroness
von Döring and Bodlevski already amounted to a very large figure.
Count Kallash determined to demand for his sister a sum equal to that
of the securities in her name which Natasha had stolen, calculating
that this would be enough to maintain his sister in peace and comfort
to the end of her days. His own life was too stormy, too full of risks
for him to allow his sister's fate to depend on his, so he had decided
to settle her in some quiet nook where, free from danger, she might
dream away her few remaining years.
To his surprise Baroness von Döring flatly refused to be put under
contribution.
"Your demand is outrageous," she said. "I am not going to be the
victim of any such plot!"
"Very well, I will compel you to unmask?"
"To unmask? What do you mean, count? You forget yourself!"
"Well, then, I shall try to make you remember me!" And Kallash turned
his back on her and strode from the room. A moment later, and she
heard the door close loudly behind him.
The baroness had already told Bodlevski of her meeting with Princess
Anna, and she now hurried to him for counsel. They agreed that their
present position, with Kallash's threats hanging over their heads, was
intolerable. But what was to be done?
Bodlevski paced up and down the room, biting his lips, and seeking
some decisive plan.
"We must act in such a way," he said, coming to a stand before the
baroness, "as to get rid of this fellow once for all. I think he is
dangerous, and it never does any harm to take proper precautions. Get
the money ready, Natasha; we must give it to him."
"What! give him the money!" and the baroness threw up her hands. "Will
that get us out of his power? Can we feel secure? It will only last
till something new happens. At the first occasion----"
"Which will also be the last!" interrupted Bodlevski. "Suppose we do
give him the money to-day; does that mean that we give it for good?
Not at all! It will be back in my pocket to-morrow! Let us think it
out properly!" and he gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder, and sat
down in an easy chair in front of her.
The result of their deliberations was a little note addressed to Count
Kallash:
"DEAR COUNT," it ran, "I was guilty of an act of folly toward you
to-day. I am ashamed of it, and wish to make amends as soon as
possible. We have always been good friends, so let us forget our
little difference, the more so that an alliance is much more
advantageous to us both than a quarrel. Come this evening to receive
the money you spoke of, and to clasp in amity the hand of your devoted
friend, VON D."
Kallash came about ten o'clock in the evening, and received from
Bodlevski the sum of fifty thousand rubles in notes. The baroness was
very amiable, and persuaded him to have some tea. There was not a
suggestion of future difficulties, and everything seemed to promise
perfect harmony for the future. Bodlevski talked over plans of future
undertakings, and told him, with evident satisfaction, that they had
just heard of the arrest of the younger Prince Shadursky, in Paris,
for attempting to defraud a bank by a pretended sale of gold dust.
Count Kallash was also gay, and a certain satisfaction filled his mind
at the thought of his sister's security, as he felt the heavy packet
of notes in his pocket. He smoked his cigar with evident satisfaction,
sipping the fragrant tea from time to time. The conversation was gay
and animated, and for some reason or other turned to the subject of
clubs.
"Ah, yes," interposed Bodlevski, "_a propos_! I expect to be a member
of the Yacht Club this summer. Let me recommend to you a new field of
action. They will disport themselves on the green water, and we on the
green cloth! By the way, I forgot to speak of it--I bought a boat the
other day, a mere rowboat. It is on the Fontauka Canal, at the
Simeonovski bridge. We must come for a row some day."
"Delightful," exclaimed the baroness. "But why some day? Why not
to-night? The moon is beautiful, and, indeed, it is hardly dark at
midnight. Your speaking of boats has filled me with a sudden desire to
go rowing. What do you say, dear count?" and she turned amiably to
Kallash.
Count Kallash at once consented, considering the baroness's idea an
admirable one, and they were soon on their way toward the Simeonovski
bridge.
"How delightful it is!" cried the baroness, some half hour later, as
they were gliding over the quiet water. "Count, do you like strong
sensations?" she asked suddenly.
"I am fond of strong sensations of every kind," he replied, taking up
her challenge.
"Well, I am going to offer you a little sensation, though it always
greatly affects me. Everything is just right for it, and I am in the
humor, too."
"What is it to be?" asked Count Kallash indifferently.
"You will see in a moment. Do you know that there are underground
canals in St. Petersburg?"
"In St. Petersburg?" asked Kallash in astonishment.
"Yes, in St. Petersburg! A whole series of underground rivers, wide
enough for a boat to pass through. I have rowed along them several
times. Does not that offer a new sensation, something quite unlike St.
Petersburg?"
"Yes, it is certainly novel," answered Count Kallash, now interested.
"Where are they? Pray show them to me."
"There is one a few yards off. Shall we enter? You are not afraid?"
she said with a smile of challenge.
"By no means--unless you command me to be afraid," Kallash replied in
the same tone. "Let us enter at once!"
"Kasimir, turn under the arch!" and the boat cut across the canal
toward a half circle of darkness. A moment more and the darkness
engulfed them completely. They were somewhere under the Admiralty, not
far from St. Isaac's Cathedral. Away ahead of them was a tiny half
circle of light, where the canal joined the swiftly flowing Neva.
Carriages rumbled like distant thunder above their heads.
"Deuce take it! it is really rather fine!" cried the count, with
evident pleasure. "A meeting of pirates is all we need to make it
perfect. It is a pity that we cannot see where we are!"
"Light a match. Have you any?" said the baroness.
"I have, and wax matches, too." The count took out a match and lit it,
and the underground stream was lit by a faint ruddy glow. The channel,
covered by a semi-circular arch, was just wide enough for one boat to
pass through, with oars out. The black water flowed silently by in a
sluggish, Stygian stream. Bats, startled by the light, fluttered in
their faces, and then disappeared in the darkness.
As the boat glided on, the match burned out in Count Kallash's
fingers. He threw it into the water, and opened his matchbox to take
another.
At the same moment he felt a sharp blow on the head, followed by a
second, and he sank senseless in the bottom of the boat.
"Where is the money?" cried Bodlevski, who had struck him with the
handle of the oar. "Get his coat open!" and the baroness deftly drew
the thick packet from the breast pocket of his coat. "Here it is! I
have it!" she replied quickly.
"Now, overboard with him! Keep the body steady!" A dull splash, and
then silence. "To-night we shall sleep secure!"
They counted without their host. Princess Anna had also her scheme of
vengeance, and had worked it out, without a word to her brother. When
Natasha and Bodlevski entered their apartment, they found the police
in possession, and a few minutes later both were under arrest.
Abundant evidence of fraud and forgery was found in their dwelling,
and the vast Siberian solitudes avenged the death of their last
victim.