THE TRIBUNAL
It was a small, ruinous chapel, the windows of which had been roughly
boarded up; and, so far as I could see by the dim light cast by two oil
lanterns hung on the walls, all those assembled inside were men,--about
fifty in number I guessed, for the place was by no means crowded. There
was a clear space at the further end, round the raised piece where the
altar had once stood, and where four men were seated on a bench of some
sort. I could not distinguish their faces, for they all wore their hats,
and the lamplight was so dim that it only served to make the darkness
visible. The atmosphere was steamy, too, for we were a drenched and
draggled lot.
There was no excitement at present; one of the four men on the dais was
speaking in a level monotonous voice; but, as I cautiously edged my way
towards the front, I felt that this silent, sinister crowd was in deadly
earnest, as was the man who was addressing it. He was speaking in
Russian, and I could not make out quite all he said.
I gathered that some resolution was about to be passed, for just as I
got sufficiently forward to peer round and convince myself that Anne was
not there, each man present, except myself and two others, held up his
right hand. I followed suit instantly, judging that to be wisest, and
one of the other two--he was standing close beside me--put his up, after
a momentary hesitation that I think was unnoticed save by myself. I took
a sidelong glance at him. He was an elderly, distinguished looking man,
with a short gray beard cut to a point, and an upturned gray mustache.
He was listening intently, but, though I couldn't see his face
distinctly, I got the impression that he also was a stranger, and that
he understood even less than I did what was going on.
The president spoke again.
"Are there any here who are against the election of Constantine"--I
could not catch the other name, which was a long Polish one, I
think--"to the place on the council, vacant since the murder of our
comrade, Vladimir Selinski?"
Selinski! Cassavetti! He little guessed as he spoke that the man who
found Cassavetti's body was now within five paces of him!
Not a hand was raised, and the man who had not voted stepped on to the
dais, in obedience to a gesture from the president, and took his seat in
silence.
A hoarse murmur of approval went round; but that was all. The grim
quietude of these men was more fearful than any amount of noise could
have been, and, as the president raised his hand slightly, a dead
silence fell.
"Remains now only that we do justice on the murderess of Selinski, the
traitress who has betrayed our secrets, has frustrated many of our
plans, has warned more than one of those whom we have justly doomed to
death--her lover among them--with the result that they have escaped, for
the present. We would not condemn her unheard, but so far she is
obdurate; she defies us, endeavors once more to trick us. If she were
other than she is, or rather than she has been, she would have been
removed long since, when suspicion first fell upon her; but there are
many of us who love her still, who would not believe her guilty without
the evidence of their own eyes and ears; and therefore we have brought
her here that she may speak for herself, defend herself if that is
possible. It will rest with you to acquit or condemn her!"
He spoke quite quietly, but the cool, deliberate malignity of his tone
was horrible; and somehow I knew that the majority of those present
shared his animosity against the prisoner, although he had spoken of
"many of us who love her."
The man beside me touched my arm, and spoke to me in French.
"Do you understand him?"
"Yes, do you?"
"No."
There was no time for more, for, at a signal from the president, a door
at the side near the dais was opened, and a woman was led in by two men,
each holding her by an arm. They released her, and she stepped back a
pace, and stood against the wall, her hands pressed against it on either
side, bracing herself like a royal creature at bay.
It was Anne herself, and for a moment I stood, unable to move, scarcely
able to breathe. There was something almost unearthly about her beauty
and courage. The feeble lamplight seemed to strengthen, and to
concentrate itself on her face,--colorless save for the vivid red
lips,--on her eyes, wide and brilliant with indignation, on the bright
hair that shone like a queenly crown. Wrath, and scorn, and defiance
were expressed by the beautiful face, the tense figure; but never a
trace of fear.
They were all looking at her, as I was, in silence,--a curious hush that
lasted but a few seconds, but in which I could hear the beating of my
own heart; it sounded as loud as a sledge hammer.
The spell was broken by a cry from the man with the pointed beard next
me who sprang forward towards her, shouting in English: "Anne! Anne! It
is I, your father!"
I was only just less quick; we reached her almost together, and faced
about, shielding her with our bodies, and covering those nearest us with
our revolvers.
"Father! Maurice!" I heard her sob. "Oh, I knew, I knew you would come!"
"What is this devilry?" shouted Anthony Pendennis in French. "How comes
my daughter here? She is a British subject, and you--you shall pay
dearly--"
He got no further. Our action had been so swift, so unexpected, that the
whole crowd stood still, as if paralyzed by sheer astonishment, for a
few breathless seconds.
"Spies! Traitors! Kill them all!" shouted the president, springing
forward, revolver in hand.
Those words were his last, for he threw up his arms and fell as my first
shot got him. The rest came at us all together, like a mob of furious
wild beasts. They were all armed, some with revolvers, others with the
horrible little bludgeons they call "killers,"--a short heavy bar of
lead set on a strong copper spring, no bigger than an ordinary round
office ruler, but more deadly at close quarters than a revolver.
I flung up my left hand, tore down the lamp that hung just above us,
and hurled it among them. It was extinguished as it fell, and that gave
us a small advantage, for the other lamp was at the far end, and its
faint light did not reach us, but only served to dimly show us our
antagonists. I felt Anne sink down to the floor behind me, though
whether a shot had reached her or she had fainted I did not know.
When I had emptied my revolver I dropped it, grabbed a "killer" from the
hand of a fellow I had shot pointblank, and laid about me with that. I
suppose Pendennis did the same. As Loris had warned me, when it came to
shooting, there was no time for reloading; but the "killer" was all
right. I wonder he hadn't given me one!
We were holding our own well, in spite of the tremendous odds, and after
a while--though whether it was five minutes or fifty I couldn't
say--they gave back a bit. There was quite a heap of dead and wounded
round about us; but I don't think Anne's father was hurt as yet, and I
felt no pain, though my left arm hung limp and useless, numbed by a blow
from a "killer" that had missed my head; and something warm was dripping
down my right wrist.
"What now?" I heard Pendennis say, in that brief lull in the
pandemonium.
"God knows. We can't get to the door; we must fight it out here; they're
coming on again. On guard!"
We swung up our weapons, but before the rush could reach us, there was a
crash close at hand; the door through which Anne and her guards had
entered the chapel was thrown open, and a big man dashed in,--Loris
himself, still in his disguise. So he had reached us at last!
He must have grasped the situation at a glance, for he shouted: "Back;
back for your lives! By the other door. We are betrayed; the soldiers
are here. They are coming this way. Save yourselves!"