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Title: The International Spy

Author: Allen Upward

Release date: November 16, 2009 [eBook #30482]
                Most recently updated: January 5, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INTERNATIONAL SPY ***




Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net









 The

 International Spy

 BEING THE SECRET HISTORY
 OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR

 BY

 ALLEN UPWARD

 ("_Monsieur A. V._")

 AUTHOR OF "UNDERGROUND HISTORY," ETC.

 M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY

 CHICAGO  NEW YORK




 COPYRIGHT, 1904, 1905, BY

 THE PEARSON PUBLISHING CO.

 COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY

 G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY.

 _Entered at Stationers' Hall._

 The International Spy.

 Made in U. S. A.




CONTENTS


 CHAPTER                                               PAGE

         PROLOGUE--THE TWO EMPRESSES                     9

      I. THE INSTRUCTIONS OF MONSIEUR V----             17

     II. THE PRINCESS Y----'S HINT                      24

    III. THE HEAD OF THE MANCHURIAN SYNDICATE           36

     IV. THE CZAR'S AUTOGRAPH                           45

      V. A DINNER WITH THE ENEMY                        54

     VI. DRUGGED AND KIDNAPPED                          63

    VII. THE RACE FOR SIBERIA                           71

   VIII. THE CZAR'S MESSAGE                             76

     IX. THE BETROTHAL OF DELILAH                       87

      X. THE ANSWER OF THE MIKADO                       96

     XI. WHO SMOKED THE GREGORIDES BRAND               107

    XII. THE SECRET SERVICE OF JAPAN                   113

   XIII. HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS                         123

    XIV. THE SUBMARINE MINE                            130

     XV. THE ADVISOR OF NICHOLAS II                    139

    XVI. A STRANGE CONFESSION                          145

   XVII. A SUPERNATURAL INCIDENT                       159

  XVIII. THE MYSTERY OF A WOMAN                        169

    XIX. THE SPIRIT OF MADAME BLAVATSKY                180

     XX. THE DEVIL'S AUCTION                           192

    XXI. THE FUNERAL                                   199

   XXII. A PERILOUS MOMENT                             210

  XXIII. A RESURRECTION AND A GHOST                    217

   XXIV. A SECRET EXECUTION                            224

    XXV. A CHANGE OF IDENTITY                          233

   XXVI. TRAPPED                                       240

  XXVII. THE BALTIC FLEET                              246

 XXVIII. ON THE TRACK                                  256

   XXIX. AN IMPERIAL FANATIC                           264

    XXX. THE STOLEN SUBMARINE                          272

   XXXI. THE KIEL CANAL                                279

  XXXII. THE DOGGER BANK                               287

 XXXIII. TRAFALGAR DAY                                 292

  XXXIV. THE FAMILY STATUTE                            300

         EPILOGUE                                      308




The International Spy




PROLOGUE[A]

THE TWO EMPRESSES

[Footnote A: The author desires to state that this history should be
read as a work of imagination simply, and not as authentic.]


"Look!"

A fair, delicately-molded hand, on which glittered gems worth a
raja's loyalty, was extended in the direction of the sea.

Half a mile out, where the light ripples melted away into a blue and
white haze upon the water, a small black smudge, like the back of a
porpoise, seemed to be sliding along the surface.

But it was not a porpoise, for out of it there rose a thin, black
shaft, scarcely higher than a flag-staff, and from the top of this
thin shaft there trickled a faint wreathing line of smoke, just
visible against the background of sky and sea.

"It is a submarine! What is it doing there?"

The exclamation, followed by the question, came from the second,
perhaps the fairer, of two women of gracious and beautiful presence,
who were pacing, arm linked in arm, along a marble terrace
overlooking a famous northern strait.

The terrace on which they stood formed part of a stately palace,
built by a king of the North who loved to retire in the summer time
from his bustling capital, and gather his family around him in this
romantic home.

From here, as from a watch-tower, could be seen the fleets of
empires, the crowded shipping of many a rich port and the humbler
craft of the fisherman, passing and repassing all day long between
the great inland sea of the North and the broad western ocean.

Along this narrow channel had once swept the long ships of the
Vikings, setting forth on those terrible raids which devastated half
Europe and planted colonies in England and France and far-off Italy.
But to-day the scene was a scene of peace. The martial glory of the
Dane had departed. The royal castle that stood there as if to guard
the strait had become a rendezvous of emperors and queens and
princes, who took advantage of its quiet precincts to lay aside the
pomp of rule, and perhaps to bind closer those alliances of
sovereigns which serve to temper the fierce rivalries of their
peoples.

The pair who stood gazing, one with curiosity and wonder, the other
with an interest of a more painful character, at the sinister object
on the horizon, were imperial sisters. Born in the tiny sea kingdom,
they had lived to wear the crowns of the greatest two realms the
world has ever seen, two empires which between them covered half the
surface of our planet, and included one-third of its inhabitants.

But though sundered in interests they were not divided in affection.
As they stood side by side, still linked together, it was evident
that no common sympathy united them.

The one who had been first to draw attention to the mysterious craft,
and whose dress showed somber touches which spoke of widowhood,
answered her sister's question:

"I never see one of those vessels without a shudder. I have an
instinct which warns me that they are destined to play a dangerous,
perhaps a fatal, part in the future. What is that boat doing here, in
Danish waters?--I do not know. But it can be here for no good. If a
war ever broke out in which we were concerned, the Sound would be our
first line of defense on the west. It would be mined, by us, perhaps;
if not, by our enemy. Who can tell whether that submarine has not
been sent out by some Power which is already plotting against peace,
to explore the bed of the strait, with a view to laying down mines
hereafter?"

The other Empress listened with a grave countenance.

"I hope your fears are not well founded. I can think of no Power that
is ever likely to attack you. It is my nephew, or rather those who
surround him, from whom the signal for war is likely to come, if it
ever does come."

The widowed Empress bowed her head.

"You know what my hopes and wishes are," she answered. "If my son
listened to me there would be no fear of his departing from the
peaceful ways of my dear husband. But there are secret influences
always at work, as stealthy in their nature as that very craft----"

The speaker paused as she glanced 'round in search of the black
streak and gray smoke-wreath which had attracted her notice a minute
before. But she looked in vain.

Like a phantom the submarine had disappeared, leaving no trace of its
presence.

The Empress uttered an ejaculation of dismay, which was echoed by her
sister.

"Where is it now? Where did it go? Has it sunk, or has it gone back
to where it came from?"

To these questions there could be no answer. The smooth waters
glistened in the sunlight as merrily as if no threatening craft was
gliding beneath the surface on some errand fraught with danger to the
world.

"Perhaps they saw they were observed, and dived under for
concealment," suggested the second Empress.

Her sister sighed gently.

"I was telling you that that submarine was a type of the secret
dangers which beset us. I know, beyond all doubt, that there are men
in the innermost circle of the Court, men who have my son's ear, and
can do almost what they like with him, who are at heart longing for a
great war, and are always working underground to bring it about. And
if they succeed, and we are taken unprepared by a stronger foe, there
will be a revolution which may cost my son his throne, if not his
life."

There was a brief silence. Then the Empress who had listened to this
declaration murmured in a low voice:

"Heaven grant that the war is not one between you and us!"

"Heaven grant it!" was the fervent reply. And then, after a moment's
reflection, the widowed Empress added in an eager voice:

"But we--cannot we do something to avert such a fearful calamity?"

Her sister pressed her arm as though to assure her of sympathy.

"Yes, yes," the other continued. "We can do much if we will. Though
my son does not always take my advice, he has never yet refused to
listen to me. And in moments of grave stress he sometimes consults
me of his own accord. And I know that you, too, have influence. Your
people worship you. Your husband----"

The Western Empress interrupted gently:

"I cannot play the part that you play. I do not claim the right to be
consulted, or to give direct advice. Do not ask me to step outside my
sphere. I can give information; I can be a channel sometimes between
your Court and ours, a channel which you can trust as I fear you
cannot always trust your ministers and diplomatic agents. More than
that I should not like to promise."

"But that is very much," was the grateful response. "That may be
quite enough. Provided we can arrange a code by which I can always
communicate with you safely and secretly, it may be possible to avert
war at any time."

"What do you propose?"

"It is very simple. If any crisis comes about through no fault of my
son's--if the party who are conspiring to make a war arrange some
unexpected _coup_ which we could not foresee or prevent--and if I am
sure that my son sincerely desires peace, I can send you a
message--one word will be enough--which you can take as an assurance
that we mean to put ourselves right with you, and to thwart the
plotters."

The Western Empress bowed her head.

"I accept the mission. And the word--what shall it be?"

The other glanced 'round the horizon once more, and then, bending her
lips to her imperial sister's ear, whispered a single word.

The two great women who had just exchanged a pledge for the peace of
the world were moving slowly along the terrace again, when the
Western sister said, thoughtfully,

"I think I know another way to aid you."

The Eastern Empress halted, and gazed at her with eagerness.

"I know the difficulties that surround you," her sister pursued, "and
that the greatest of them all is having no one in your service whom
you can entirely and absolutely trust."

"That is so," was the mournful admission.

"Now I have heard of a man--I have never actually employed him
myself, but I have heard of him from those who have, and they tell me
he is incorruptible. In addition, he is a man who has never
experienced the sensation of fear, and his abilities are so great
that he has been called in to solve almost every problem of
international politics that has arisen in recent years."

"But this man--how can he be obtained?"

"At present he is retained in our secret service. I must not conceal
from you that he is partly a Pole by descent, and as such he has no
love for your Empire. But if it were made clear to him that in
serving you he was serving us, and defeating the designs of the
anti-popular and despotic clique at your Court, I feel sure he would
consent to place himself at your disposal."

The Eastern Empress listened intently to her sister's words. At the
close she said,

"Thank you. I will try this man, if you can prevail on him to come to
me. What is his name?"

"I expect you must have heard of him already, It is----"

"_Monsieur V----?_"

The second Empress nodded.

No more was said.

The two imperial figures passed away along the terrace, silhouetted
against the red and stormy sunset sky, like two ministering spirits
of peace brooding over a battleground of blood.




CHAPTER I

THE INSTRUCTIONS OF MONSIEUR V----


The great monarch by whose gracious command I write this narrative
has given me his permission to preface it with the following
remarkable document:

      _Minute_: It is considered that it cannot but promote the
      cause of peace and good understanding between the British
      and Russian Governments if Monsieur V---- be authorized to
      relate in the columns of some publication enjoying a wide
      circulation, the steps by which he was enabled to throw
      light on the occurrences in the North Sea.

                         _By the Cabinet._

In addition, I desire to state for the benefit of those who profess
to see some impropriety in the introduction of real names into a
narrative of this kind, that objections precisely similar to theirs
were long ago raised, and long ago disposed of, in the case of
Parliamentary reports, newspaper articles, society papers, and comic
publications of all kinds; and, further, that I have never received
the slightest intimation that my literary methods were displeasing to
the illustrious personages whom my narratives are intended to honor.

With this apology I may be permitted to proceed.

On a certain day in the winter which preceded the outbreak of war
between Russia and Japan, I received a summons to Buckingham Palace,
London, to interview the Marquis of Bedale.

I am unable to fix the precise date, as I have forsworn the dangerous
practice of keeping a diary ever since the head of the French police
convinced me that he had deciphered a code telegram of mine to the
Emperor of Morocco.

The Marquis and I were old friends, and, anticipating that I should
find myself required to start immediately on some mission which might
involve a long absence from my headquarters in Paris, I took my
confidential secretary with me as far as the British capital,
utilizing the time taken by the journey in instructing him how to
deal with the various affairs I had in hand.

I had just finished explaining to him the delicate character of the
negotiation then pending between the new King of Servia and Prince
Ferdinand of Bulgaria, when the train rolled into Charing Cross.

Not wishing any one, however high in my confidence, to know too much
of my movements, I ordered him to remain seated in the railway
carriage, while I slipped out of the station and into the closed
brougham for which I had telegraphed from Dover.

I had said in the wire that I wished to be driven to a hotel in
Piccadilly. It was not till I found myself in Cockspur Street that I
pulled the check-string, and ordered the coachman to take me to
Buckingham Palace.

I mention these details in order to show that my precautions to
insure secrecy are always of the most thorough character, so that, in
fact, it would be quite impossible for any one to unveil my
proceedings unless I voluntarily opened my lips.

The instructions which I received from Lord Bedale were brief and to
the point:

"You are aware, of course, Monsieur V----, that there is a
possibility of war breaking out before long between Russia and
Japan."

"It is more than a possibility, I am afraid, my lord. Things have
gone so far that I do not believe it is any longer possible to avert
war."

His lordship appeared gravely concerned.

"Do you tell me that it is too late for you to interfere with
effect?" he demanded anxiously.

"Even for me," I replied with firmness.

Lord Bedale threw at me a glance almost imploring in its entreaty.

"If you were to receive the most ample powers, the most liberal
funds; if you were to be placed in direct communication with one of
the most exalted personages in the Court of St Petersburg--would it
still be impossible?"

I shook my head.

"Your lordship should have sent for me a fortnight ago. We have lost
twelve days, that is to say, twelve battles."

The Marquis of Bedale looked more and more distressed.

"At least you can try?" he suggested.

"I can try. But I am not omnipotent, my lord," I reminded him.

He breathed a sigh of relief before going on to say:

"But that is only the preliminary. Great Britain is bound to come to
the assistance of Japan in certain contingencies."

"In the event of her being attacked by a second Power," I observed.

"Precisely. I rely on you to prevent that contingency arising."

"That is a much easier matter, I confess."

"Then you undertake to keep the war from extending to us?"

"I undertake to keep a second Power from attacking Japan," I answered
cautiously.

Lord Bedale was quick to perceive my reservation.

"But in that case we cannot be involved, surely?" he objected.

"I cannot undertake to keep you from attacking Russia," I explained
grimly.

"But we should not dream of attacking her--without provocation," he
returned, bewildered.

"I fancy you will have a good deal of provocation," I retorted.

"Why? What makes you think that?" he demanded.

I suspected that Lord Bedale was either sounding me, or else that he
had not been taken into the full confidence of those for whom he was
acting.

I responded evasively:

"There are two personages in Europe, neither of whom will leave one
stone unturned in the effort to involve you in war with Russia."

"And they are?"

Even as he put the question, Lord Bedale, as though acting
unconsciously, raised one hand to his mustache, and gave it a
pronounced upward twirl.

"I see your lordship knows one of them," I remarked. "The other----"

He bent forward eagerly.

"Yes? The other?"

"The other is a woman."

"A woman?"

He fell back in his chair in sheer surprise.

"The other," I repeated in my most serious tone, "is a woman, perhaps
the most formidable woman now living, not even excepting the Dowager
Empress of China."

"And her name?"

"Her name would tell you nothing."

"Still----"

"If you really wish to hear it----"

"I more than wish. I urge you."

"Her name is the Princess Y----."

Scarcely had the name of this dangerous and desperate woman passed my
lips than I regretted having uttered it.

Had I foreseen the perils to which I exposed myself by that single
slip I might have hesitated in going on with my enterprise.

As it was I determined to tell the Marquis of Bedale nothing more.

"This business is too urgent to admit of a moment's unnecessary
delay," I declared, rising to my feet. "If your lordship has no
further instructions to give me, I will leave you."

"One instant!" cried Lord Bedale. "On arriving in Petersburg you will
go straight to report yourself to her majesty the Empress Dagmar."

I bowed my head to conceal the expression which might have told his
lordship that I intended to do nothing of the kind.

"Your credentials," he added with a touch of theatricality, "will
consist of a single word."

"And that word?" I inquired.

He handed me a sealed envelope.

"I do not myself know it. It is written on a piece of paper inside
that envelope, and I have to ask you to open the envelope, read the
word, and then destroy the paper in my presence."

I shrugged my shoulders as I proceeded to break the seal. But no
sooner did my eyes fall on the word within, and above all on the
handwriting in which that word was written, than I experienced a
sensation of admiring pleasure.

"Tell the writer, if you please, my lord, that I am grateful for this
mark of confidence, which I shall endeavor to deserve."

I rolled up the paper into a tiny pellet, swallowed it, and left the
room and the Palace without uttering another word.




CHAPTER II

THE PRINCESS Y----'S HINT


I never use the same stratagem more than once. It is to this rule
that I attribute my success.

On previous missions to Russia I assumed the disguises of a French
banker, of the private secretary to Prince Napoleon, of an emissary
from an Indian Maharaja, and of an Abyssinian Maduga.

I now decided to go thither as an Englishman, or rather--for there is
a distinction between the two--as a Little Englander.

It appeared to me that no character could be more calculated to gain
me the confidence of the Anglophobes of the Russian Court. I
anticipated that they would smother me with attentions, and that from
their hypocritical professions I should stand a good chance of
learning what was actually in their minds.

No sooner had I taken this decision, which was while the brougham was
being driven along the Mall, than I gave the order "---- House."

I was driven to the office of a well known review conducted by a
journalist of boundless philanthropy and credulity. Mr. Place--as I
will call him--was within, and I at once came to business.

"I am a Peace Crusader," I announced. "I have devoted myself to the
sacred cause of which you are the foremost champion. At present war
is threatened in the Far East. I am going to Russia to persuade the
war party to abandon their designs. I have come here to ask you for
your aid and countenance in this pious enterprise."

The editor gave me a doubtful glance.

"If it is a question of financial aid," he said not very
encouragingly, "I must refer you to the treasurer of the World's
Peace League. I am afraid our friends----"

"No, no," I interrupted him. "It is not a question of funds. I am a
wealthy man, and if you need a subscription at any time you have only
to apply to me. What I desire is your moral support, your valuable
advice, and perhaps a few introductions to the friends of peace in
the Russian capital."

The editor's face brightened.

"Of course!" he exclaimed in cordial tones. "I will support you with
all my heart. I will write up your mission in the _Review_, and I
will give you as many introductions as you need. What is your name,
again?"

"Sterling. Mr. Melchisadek Sterling."

The philanthropist nodded and touched a bell on his table.

"I will give you a letter," he said, as his secretary came in and
seated herself at the typewriter, "to the noblest creature I have
ever met, a woman of high birth and immense fortune who has devoted
herself to the cause."

And turning 'round in his chair he dictated to the attentive
secretary:

"_My dear Princess Y_----"

It needed all that command over my features which it has taken me
twenty years to acquire to conceal the emotion with which I heard
this name. Less than half an hour had passed since I had warned Lord
Bedale that the Princess would be the most formidable enemy in my
path, and now, on the very threshold of my enterprise, her name
confronted me like an omen.

I need not repeat the highly colored phrases in which the
unsuspecting philanthropist commended me to this artful and
formidable woman as a fellow-worker in the holy cause of human
brotherhood.

Not content with this service, the editor wanted to arrange a meeting
of his league or brotherhood, or whatever it was, to give me a public
send-off. As I understood that the meeting would partake of a
religious character I could not bring myself to accept the offer.

In addition to the letter to the Princess Y----, he gave me another
to a member of the staff of the Russian Embassy in London, a M.
Gudonov. He also urged me to call upon a member of Parliament, a
rising politician who is not unlikely to have a ministerial post in
the next government, and who has made himself known as an apologist
of the Czar's. But as I had good reason to know that this gentleman
was by no means a disinterested dupe, like Mr. Place, I prudently
left him alone.

On going to the Russian Embassy to have my passport viséd I inquired
for M. Gudonov.

The moment he entered the room I recognized him as one of the most
unscrupulous agents of the notorious Third Section, one of the gang
who drugged and kidnapped poor Alexander of Bulgaria. My own
disguise, it is hardly necessary to say, was impenetrable.

This precious apostle of peace greeted me with unction, on the
editor's introduction.

"You are going to our country on a truly noble errand," he declared,
with tears in his eyes. "We Russians have reason to feel grateful to
worthy Englishmen like you, who can rise above national prejudices
and do justice to the benevolent designs of the Czar and his
advisers."

"I hope that I may be instrumental in averting a great catastrophe,"
I said piously.

"Even if you fail in preventing war," the Russian replied, "you will
be able to tell your countrymen when you return, that it was due to
the insane ambition of the heathen Japanese. It is the 'Yellow
Peril,' my friend, to which that good Emperor William has drawn
attention, from which we are trying to save Europe."

I nodded my head as if well satisfied.

"Whatever you and your friends in Petersburg tell me, I shall
believe," I assured him. "I am convinced of the good intention of
your Government."

The Russian fairly grinned at this simplicity.

"You cannot find a more trustworthy informant than the Princess
Y----," he said gravely. "And just now she is in a position to know a
very great deal."

"How so?" I asked naturally--not that I doubted the statement.

"The Princess has just been appointed a lady-in-waiting to her
imperial majesty the Dowager Empress Dagmar."

This was a serious blow. Knowing what I did of the past of Princess
Y----, I felt that no ordinary pressure must have been brought to
bear to secure her admission into the household of the Czaritza. And
with what motive? It was a question to which there could be only one
answer. The War Party had guessed or suspected that the Czar's mother
was opposed to them, and they had resolved to place a spy on her
actions.

Inwardly thankful to Mr. Place for having been the means of procuring
me this important information in advance, I received my passport and
quitted the Embassy with the heartfelt congratulations of the
ex-kidnapper.

Forty-eight hours later I had crossed the Russian frontier, and my
life was in the hands of the Princess.

My first step on arriving in the capital of the North was to put up
at the favorite hotel of English visitors. The coupons of a
celebrated tourist agency were credentials in themselves, and I had
not forgotten to provide myself with the three articles indispensable
to the outfit of every traveling Briton--a guide book, a prayer book,
and a bath sponge.

At the risk of incurring the suspicions of the police agent stationed
in the hotel, I mingled some hot water in the bath which I took on
the first morning after my arrival. Then, having made my toilet and
eaten the heavy breakfast provided for English visitors, I set out,
suffering sadly from indigestion, to present my letter of
introduction to the Princess.

As this woman, the most brilliant recruit ever received into the
Russian secret service, and a foe of whom I am not ashamed to confess
that I felt some fear, has never been heard of by the public of Great
Britain, I shall say a word concerning her.

The Princess, whose Christian name was Sophia, was the daughter of a
boyar of Little Russia. Her extraordinary beauty, while she was still
a very young girl, attracted the attention of the governor of the
province, Prince Y----, who was one of the wealthiest nobles in the
Empire, and a widower. He made proposals for her hand which were
accepted by her father, without the girl herself being asked to
express an opinion in the matter, and at the age when an English girl
would be leaving home for a convent or "high-school," Sophia became
the Governor's wife.

Almost immediately the Prince resigned his government and went to
live in his splendid palace on the Nevsky Prospect, in Petersburg.
Before very long, society in the Russian capital was startled to hear
of the sudden deaths in rapid succession of both the Prince's
children by his former wife, a son and a daughter. Then, after a
brief interval, followed the tragic death of the Prince himself, who
was found in bed one morning by his valet, with his throat cut.

The almost satanic beauty and fascination of the youthful Princess
had made her from the very first one of the most conspicuous
personages at the Imperial Court. These three deaths, following on
the heels of one another, roused the most dreadful suspicions, and
the Czar Alexander III. personally charged his minister of justice
to see that the law was carried out.

Accordingly the police took possession of the palace while the corpse
of its late owner still lay where it had been found. The most
searching investigations were made, the servants were questioned and
threatened, and it was rumored that the widow herself was for a short
time under arrest.

Suddenly a great change took place. The police withdrew, professing
themselves satisfied that no crime had been committed. The deaths of
the son and daughter were put down to natural causes, and that of the
Prince was pronounced a suicide, due to grief at the loss of his
children. Some of the servants disappeared--it was said into
Siberia--and in due course the Princess resumed her place in society
and at Court, as though nothing were amiss.

Nevertheless, from that hour, as I have every reason to know, her
life was really that of a slave to the head of the secret police. She
appeared to go about unfettered, and to revel in the enjoyment of
every luxury; but her time, her actions, and the vast wealth
bequeathed to her by her husband, were all at the disposal of her
tyrant.

Time after time, in half the capitals of Europe, but more especially,
of course, in that of Russia, I had come on traces of this terrible
woman, not less terrible if it were true that she was herself the
most miserable victim of the system of which she formed part.

But singularly enough, though I had heard so much of the Princess I
had never actually found myself pitted against her. And, more
singularly still, I had never met her.

From this it will be gathered that I experienced a sensation of more
than ordinary curiosity and even apprehension as I presented myself
at the house in the Nevsky Prospect, and asked to be admitted to the
presence of its mistress.

"Her highness is on duty at the Palace to-day," I was told by the
chamberlain who received me in the inner hall. "Her carriage is just
ordered to take her there. However, I will take up your letter, and
inquire when her highness can see you."

I sat down in the hall, outwardly a calm, stolid Briton, but inwardly
a wrestler, wound up to the highest pitch of excitement and impatient
for the sight of his antagonist.

To pass the time suitably, I took my guide-book out of my pocket and
began to read. The book opened at Herr Baedaker's description of the
gloomy fortress of the Schlüsselburg, the dreaded prison of the foes
of the Czar.

The description did not tend to soothe my nerves, conscious as I was
that the woman I was about to meet could consign me to the most
noisome dungeon in the fortress by merely lifting her little finger.

I was just closing the book with an involuntary shudder when I heard
a light, almost girlish, laugh from above. I looked hastily, and saw
the woman I had come to measure myself against standing poised like a
bird on the top of the grand staircase.

As I rose hurriedly to my feet, taking in every detail of her superb
yet delicate figure, her complexion like a blush-rose, her lustrous
eyes--they were dark violet on a closer view--and the cloud of
rippling gold that framed her brow, I was moved, yes, positively
carried away for a moment, by a sentiment such as few women have been
able to inspire in me.

Perceiving, no doubt, that she had produced the desired impression,
the Princess ran lightly down the stairs and came toward me holding
out two tiny hands, the fingers of which were literally gloved in
diamonds.

"My friend! My noble Englishman!" she exclaimed in the purest French.
"And since when have you known that dear Monsieur Place?"

I checked myself on the point of replying, pretended to falter, and
then muttered in the worst French I could devise on the spur of the
moment:

"_Parlez-vous Anglais, s'il vous plaît, Madame?_"

The Princess shook her head reproachfully.

"You speak French too well not to understand it, I suspect," she
retorted in the same language. Then dropping it for English, marred
only by a slight Slavonic accent, she repeated:

"But tell me,--dear Mr. Place, he is a great friend of yours, I
suppose?"

"I can hardly claim the honor of his personal friendship," I replied,
rather lamely. "But I have always known and admired him as a public
man."

"Ah! He is so good, is he not? So generous, so confiding, so great a
friend of our dear Russia. You know Mr. ----?"

The name she uttered was that of the politician referred to above.
She slipped it out swiftly, with the action of a cat pouncing.

I shook my head with an air of distress.

"I am afraid I am not important enough to know such a great man as
that," I said with affected humility.

The Princess hastened to relieve my embarrassment.

"What is that to us!" she exclaimed. "You are an Englishman, you are
benevolent, upright, truthful, and you esteem our country. Such men
are always welcome in Russia. The Czaritza is waiting for me; but you
will come back and dine with me, if not to-night, then to-morrow, or
the next day. I will send an invitation to your hotel. My friends
shall call on you. You are staying at the----?"

I mentioned the name of the hotel, murmuring my thanks.

"That is nothing," the beautiful woman went on in the same eager
strain. "I shall have good news for you when we meet again, believe
me. Yes--" she lowered her voice almost to a whisper--"our dear Czar
is going to take the negotiations into his own hands. So it is said.
His majesty is determined to preserve peace. The odious intrigues of
the War group will be defeated, I can assure you. You will not be
disappointed, my dear Mr.----" she snatched the editor's letter from
her muff and glanced at it--"Mr. Sterling, if I tell you that you are
going to have your journey for nothing. You will have a good time in
Petersburg, all the same. But believe me when I tell you so, your
journey will fortunately be for nothing!"

And with the repetition of these words, and another bright bow and
look which dazzled my senses, the wonderful creature swept past me to
where the chamberlain stood ready to hand her into her carriage.

For nothing?




CHAPTER III

THE HEAD OF THE MANCHURIAN SYNDICATE


No reader can have failed to notice one remarkable point in the
interview between the Princess Y---- and myself. I refer of course to
her invitation to me to dine with her in the course of a day or two.

Unless the etiquette of the Russian Court differed greatly from that
of most others in Europe, it would be most indecorous for a
lady-in-waiting, during her turn of service, to give entertainments
at her private house.

I felt certain that this invitation concealed some trap, but I
puzzled myself uselessly in trying to guess what it could be.

In the meantime I did not neglect certain other friends of mine in
the city on the Neva, from whom I had some hope of receiving
assistance.

Although I have never gone so far as to enroll myself as an active
Nihilist, I am what is known as an Auxiliary. In other words, without
being under the orders of the great secret committee which wages
underground war with the Russian Government, I have sometimes
rendered it voluntary services, and I have at all times the privilege
of communicating with it, and exchanging information.

While waiting for the next move on the part of the Princess,
therefore, I decided to get in touch with the revolutionists.

I made my way on foot to a certain tavern situated near the port, and
chiefly patronized by German and Scandinavian sailors.

The host of the Angel Gabriel, as the house was called, was a
Nihilist of old standing, and one of their most useful agents for
introducing forbidden literature into the empire.

Printed mostly in London, in a suburb called Walworth, the
revolutionary tracts are shipped to Bergen or Lubeck, and brought
thence by these sailors concealed in their bedding. At night, after
the customs officers have departed, a boat with a false keel puts off
from a quay higher up the Neva, and passes down the river to where
the newly arrived ship is lying; the packages are dropped overboard
as it drifts past the side and hidden under the bottom boards; and
then the boat returns up the river, where its cargo is transferred to
the cellars of the tavern.

The host, a namesake of the Viceroy of Manchuria, was serving in the
bar when I came in. I called for a glass of vodka, and in doing so
made the sign announcing myself as an Auxiliary.

Alexieff said nothing in reply, but the sailors lounging in the bar
began to finish off their drinks and saunter out one by one, till in
a short time the place was empty.

"Well?" said the tavern-keeper, as soon as we were alone.

It was not my first visit to the Angel Gabriel, and I lost no time in
convincing Alexieff of my identity. As soon as he recognized me, I
said:--

"You know the Princess Y----?"

The expression of rage and fear which convulsed his features was a
sufficient answer.

"You know, moreover, that she is at present working her hardest to
bring about a war between Russia and Japan, with the hope of
ultimately involving Great Britain?"

He nodded sullenly.

"How does that affect your friends?" I asked cautiously. Something in
the man's face warned me not to show my own hand just then.

"We hate her, of course," he said grudgingly, "but just now we have
received orders that she is not to be interfered with."

I drew a deep breath.

"Then you regard this war----?"

"We regard it as the beginning of the revolution," he answered. "We
know that the Empire is utterly unprepared. The Viceroy Alexieff is a
vain boaster. Port Arthur is not provisioned. The Navy is rotten. The
Army cannot be recruited except by force. The taxes are already
excessive and cannot be increased. In short, we look forward to see
the autocracy humiliated. The moment its prestige is gone, and the
moujik feels the pinch of famine, our chance will come."

I saw that I had come to the wrong quarter for assistance.

"Then you will do nothing against this woman at present?" I remarked,
anxious to leave the impression that she was the only object of my
concern.

"No. At least not until war is definitely declared. After that I
cannot say."

"And you think the war sure to come?"

"We are certain of it. One of our most trusted members is on the
board of the Manchurian Syndicate."

"The Syndicate which has obtained the concessions in Korea?"

"Against which Japan has protested, yes."

I felt the full force of this announcement, having watched the
proceedings of the Syndicate for some months for reasons of my own.

Every student of modern history has remarked the fact that all recent
wars have been promoted by great combinations of capitalists. The
causes which formerly led to war between nation and nation have
ceased to operate. Causes, or at least pretexts, for war continue to
occur, but whether they are followed up depends mainly on commercial
considerations. A distant Government is oppressing its subjects, it
may be in Turkey, it may be in Cuba, it may be in Africa. No matter,
some great Power suddenly discovers it is interested; the drums are
beaten, the flag is unfurled, and armies are launched on their path.
The next year, perhaps, the same Power sees its own subjects
massacred wantonly off its own coasts by a foreign fleet. Nothing
happens; a few speeches are made, and the whole incident is referred
to arbitration, and forgotten.

It is the consideration of money which decides between peace and war.

Perceiving it was useless to ask any assistance of the Nihilists in
my forlorn enterprise, I returned sadly to my hotel.

Hardly had I finished the immense lunch on which I was compelled to
gorge myself, when a waiter brought me a card, the name on which gave
me an electric shock.

"_M. Petrovitch._"

Every one has heard of this man, the promoter of the Manchurian
Syndicate, and, if report spoke truly, the possessor of an influence
over the young Czar which could be attributed only to some occult
art.

I could not doubt that this powerful personage had been instigated to
call on me by the Princess Y----.

What then? Was it likely that she would have sent the most
influential man in the imperial circle to wait upon a traveling
fanatic, a visionary humanitarian from Exeter Hall?

Impossible! Somehow something must have leaked out to rouse the
suspicions of this astute plotter, and make her guess that I was not
what I seemed.

It was with the sensations of a man struggling in the meshes of an
invisible net that I saw M. Petrovitch enter the room.

The celebrated wire-puller, whose name was familiar to every
statesman and stock-broker in Europe, had an appearance very unlike
his reputation.

He was the court dandy personified. Every detail of his dress was
elaborated to the point of effeminacy. His hands were like a girl's,
his long hair was curled and scented, he walked with a limp and spoke
with a lisp, removing a gold-tipped cigarette from his well-displayed
teeth.

As the smoke of the cigarette drifted toward me, I was conscious of
an acute, but imperfect, twinge of memory. The sense of smell, though
the most neglected, is the most reliable sense with which we are
furnished. I could not be mistaken in thinking I had smelt tobacco
like that before.

"I have come to see you without losing a moment, Mr. Sterling," he
said in very good English. "My good friend Madame Y---- sent me a
note from the Palace to beg me to show you every attention. It is too
bad that an ambassador of peace--a friend of that great and good man,
Place, should be staying in a hotel, while hundreds of Russians would
be delighted to welcome him as their guest. My house is a poor one,
it is true, and I am hardly of high enough rank, still----"

The intriguer was asking me to transfer myself to his roof, to become
his prisoner, in effect.

"I cannot thank you enough," I responded, "but I am not going to
stay. The Princess has convinced me that the war-cloud will blow
over, and I think of going on to Constantinople to intercede with the
Sultan on behalf of the Armenians."

"A noble idea," M. Petrovitch responded warmly. "What would the world
do without such men as you? But at all events you will dine with me
before you go?"

It was the second invitation to dinner I had received that day. But,
after all, I could hardly suspect a trap in everything.

"Do you share the hopes of the Princess?" I asked M. Petrovitch,
after thanking him for his hospitality.

The syndicate-monger nodded.

"I have been working night and day for peace," he declared
impudently, "and I think I may claim that I have done some good. The
Japanese are seeking for an excuse to attack us, but they will not
get it."

"The Manchurian Syndicate?" I ventured to hint, rising to go to the
bell.

"The Syndicate is wholly in favor of peace," he assured me, watching
my movement with evident curiosity. "We require it, in fact, to
develop our mines, our timber concessions, our----"

A waiter entered in response to my ring.

"Bring me some cigarettes--your best," I ordered him.

As the man retreated it was borne in on my guest that he had been
guilty of smoking in my room without offering me his case.

"A thousand pardons!" he exclaimed. "Won't you try one of mine?"

I took a cigarette from the case he held out, turned it between my
fingers, and lit it from the end farthest from the maker's imprint.

"If I am satisfied that all danger is removed I should be inclined to
apply for some shares in your undertaking," I said, giving the
promoter a meaning look.

From the expression in his eyes it was evident that this precious
scoundrel was ready to sell Czar, Russia and fellow-promoters all
together.

While he was struggling between his natural greed and his suspicion
the waiter reentered with some boxes of cigarettes.

I smelt the tobacco of each and made my choice, at the same time
pitching the half-smoked cigarette given to me by M. Petrovitch into
the fireplace, among the ashes.

"Your tobacco is a little too strong for me," I remarked by way of
excuse.

But the Russian was wrapped up in the thought of the bribe at which I
had just hinted.

"I shall bear in mind what you say," he declared, as he rose.

"Depend upon it, if it is possible for me to meet your wishes, I
shall be happy to do so."

I saw him go off, like a fish with the bait in its mouth. Directly
the door closed behind him I sprang to the fireplace, rescued the
still burning cigarette and quenched it, and then, carefully brushing
away the dust, read the maker's brand once more.

An hour later simultaneous messages were speeding over the wires to
my correspondents in London, Amsterdam and Hamburg:

      Ascertain what becomes of all cigarettes made by
      Gregorides; brand, Crown Aa.




CHAPTER IV

THE CZAR'S AUTOGRAPH


The next morning at breakfast I found the two invitations already
promised. That of the head of the Manchurian Syndicate was for the
same night.

Resolved not to remain in the dark any longer as to the reason for
this apparent breach of etiquette, I decided to do what the Marquis
of Bedale had suggested, namely, approach the Dowager Empress in
person.

Well accustomed to the obstacles which beset access to royalty, I
drove to the Palace in a richly appointed carriage from the best
livery stable in Petersburg, and sent in my card to the chamberlain
by an equerry.

"I have a message to the Czaritza which I am instructed to give to
her majesty in person," I told him. "Be good enough to let her know
that the messenger from the Queen of England has arrived."

He went out of the room, and at the end of ten minutes the door
opened again and admitted--the Princess Y----!

Overpowered by this unlucky accident, as I at first supposed it to
be, I rose to my feet, muttering some vague phrase of courtesy.

But the Princess soon showed me that the meeting did not take her by
surprise.

"So you have a message for my dear mistress?" she cried in an accent
of gay reproach. "And you never breathed a word of it to me. Mr.
Sterling, I shall begin to think you are a conspirator. _How_ long
did you say you had known that good Mr. Place? But I am talking while
her majesty is waiting. Have you any password by which the Czaritza
will know whom you come from?"

"I can tell that only to her majesty, I am afraid," I answered
guardedly.

"I am in her majesty's confidence."

And bringing her exquisite face so near to mine that I was oppressed
by the scent of the tuberoses in her bosom, she whispered three
syllables in my ear.

Dismayed by this proof of the fatal progress the dangerous police
agent had already made, I could only admit by a silent bow that the
password was correct.

"Then come with me, Mr. Sterling," the Princess said with what
sounded like a malicious accent on the name.

The reception which I met from the Dowager Empress was gracious in
the extreme. I need not recount all that passed. Her imperial majesty
repeated with evident sincerity the assurances which had already
been given me in a different spirit by the two arch-intriguers.

"There will be no war. The Czar has personally intervened. He has
taken the negotiations out of the hands of Count Lamsdorff, and
written an autograph letter to the Mikado which will put an end to
the crisis."

I listened with a distrust which I could not wholly conceal.

"I trust his majesty has not intervened too late," I said
respectfully, my mind bent on framing some excuse to get rid of the
listener. "According to the newspapers the patience of the Japanese
is nearly exhausted."

"No more time will be lost," the Czaritza responded. "The messenger
leaves Petersburg to-night with the Czar's letter."

I stole a cautious glance in the direction of the Princess Y----. She
was breathing deeply, her eyes fixed on the Czaritza's lips, and her
hands tightly clenched.

I put on an air of great relief.

"In that case, your majesty, I have no more to do in Petersburg. I
will wire the good news to Lord Bedale, and return to England
to-morrow or the next day. I beg your pardon, Princess!" I pretended
to exclaim by a sudden afterthought, "_after_ the next day." And
turning once more to the mother of the Czar, I explained:

"The Princess has honored me with an invitation to dinner."

The Dowager Empress glanced at her attendant in evident surprise.

"I must implore your pardon, Madam," the Princess stammered, in real
confusion. "I am aware I ought to have solicited your leave in the
first place, but knowing that this gentleman came from----"

She broke off, fairly unable to meet the questioning gaze of her
imperial mistress.

I pretended to come to her relief.

"I have a private message," I said to the Empress.

"You may leave us, Princess," the Empress said coldly.

As soon as the door had closed on her, I gave a warning look at the
Czaritza.

"That woman, Madam, is the most dangerous agent in the secret service
of your Empire."

I trusted to the little scene I had just contrived to prepare the
mind of the Czaritza for this intimation. But she received it as a
matter of course.

"Sophia Y---- has been all that you say, Monsieur V----. I am well
acquainted with her history. The poor thing has been a victim of the
most fiendish cruelty on the part of the Minister of Police, for
years. At last, unable to bear her position any longer, she appealed
to me. She told me her harrowing story, and implored me to receive
her, and secure her admission to a convent. I investigated the case
thoroughly."

"Your majesty will pardon me, I am sure, if I say that as a man with
some experience of intrigue, I thoroughly distrust that woman's
sincerity. She is intimate with M. Petrovitch, to my knowledge."

"But M. Petrovitch is also on the side of peace, so I am assured."

I began to despair.

"You will believe me, or disbelieve me as your majesty pleases. But I
am accustomed to work for those who honor me with their entire
confidence. If the Princess Y---- is to be taken into the secret of
my work on your majesty's behalf, I must respectfully ask to be
released."

As I offered her majesty this alternative in a firm voice, I was
inwardly trembling. On the reply hung, perhaps, the fate of two
continents.

But the Dowager Empress did not hesitate.

"What you stipulate for shall be done, Monsieur V----. I am too well
aware of the value of your services, and the claims you have on the
confidence of your employers, to dispute your conditions."

"The messenger who is starting to-night--does the Princess know who
he is?"

"I believe so. It is no secret. The messenger is Colonel Menken."

"In that case he will never reach Tokio."

Her majesty could not suppress a look of horror.

"What do you advise?" she demanded tremulously.

"His majesty the Czar must at once write a duplicate of the despatch,
unknown to any living soul but your majesty, and that despatch must
be placed by you in my hands."

The Dowager Empress gazed at me for a moment in consternation.

But the soundness of the plan I had proposed quickly made itself
manifest to her.

"You are right, Monsieur V----," her majesty said approvingly. "I
will communicate with the Czar without delay. By what time do you
want the despatch?"

"In time to catch the Siberian express to-night, if your majesty
pleases. I purpose to travel by the same train as Colonel Menken--it
is possible I may be able to avert a tragedy.

"And since your majesty has told me that the Princess Y---- is aware
of the Colonel's errand, let me venture to urge you most strongly not
to let her out of your sight on any pretense until he is safely on
his way."

I need not go into the details of the further arrangements made with
a view to my receiving the duplicate despatch in secrecy.

I came away from the Palace fully realizing the serious nature of my
undertaking. I understood now all that had worried me in the
proceedings of the Princess. It was clear to me that Lord Bedale, or
the personage on whose behalf he instructed me, had wired to the
Dowager Empress, notifying her majesty of my coming, and that she had
shown the message to her lady-in-waiting.

Blaming myself bitterly for not having impressed the necessity for
caution on the Marquis, I at once set about providing myself with a
more effectual disguise.

It is a proverb on the lips of every moujik in Petersburg that all
Russia obeys the Czar, and the Czar obeys the Tchin. Ever since the
bureaucracy deliberately allowed Alexander II. to be assassinated by
the Nihilists out of anger at his reforming tendencies, the Russian
monarchs have felt more real dread of their own police than of the
revolutionists. The _Tchin_, the universally-pervading body of
officials, who run the autocracy to fill their pockets, and indulge
their vile propensities at the expense of the governed, is as
omnipotent as it is corrupt. Everywhere in that vast Empire the word
of the Tchinovink is law--and there is no other law except his word.

Taking the bull by the horns, I went straight to the Central Police
Bureau of the capital, and asked to see a certain superintendent
named Rostoy.

To this man, with whom I had had some dealings on a previous
occasion, and whose character was well understood by me, I explained
that I had accepted a mission from a friendly Power to travel along
the Siberian Railway and report on its capacity to keep the Army of
Manchuria supplied with food and ammunition in the event of war.

He expressed no surprise when I told him it was essential that I
should leave Petersburg that night, and accordingly it did not take
us long to come to terms.

The service which I required of him was, of course, a fresh passport,
with a complete disguise which would enable me to pass anywhere along
the railway or in Manchuria without being detected or interfered with
by the agents of the Government.

After some discussion we decided that the safest plan would be for me
to travel in the character of a Russian police officer charged with
the detection of the train thieves and card-sharpers who abound on
every great route of travel. I could think of no part which would
serve better to enable me to watch over the safety of the Czar's
envoy without exciting suspicion.

I placed in Rostoy's hands the first instalment of a heavy bribe, and
arranged to return an hour before the departure of the Moscow
express to carry out my transformation.

It was only as I left his office that I remembered my unlucky
engagement to dine that very night with the head of the Manchurian
Syndicate.

I perceived that these hospitalities were well devised checks on my
movements, and it was with something of a shock that I realized that
when I went to dinner that evening with the most active promoter of
the war I should be carrying the Czar's peace despatch in my pocket!

If the enemies of peace had foreseen every step that I was to take in
the discharge of my mission, their measures could not have been more
skilfully arranged.

And as this reflection occurred to me I turned my head nervously, and
remarked a man dressed like a hotel porter lounging carelessly in my
track.




CHAPTER V

A DINNER WITH THE ENEMY


Readers of that prince of romancers, Poe, will recollect a celebrated
story in which he describes the device employed by a man of uncommon
shrewdness to conceal a stolen letter from the perquisitions of the
police, and the elaborate argument by which the writer proves that
the highest art of concealment is to thrust the object to be hidden
under the very nose of the searcher.

But that argument is one of the many mystifications in which the
weird genius of Poe delighted. It is easy to see, in short, that the
theory was invented to suit the story, and not the story to suit the
theory. I now had before me the practical problem of concealing a
document of surpassing importance, from enemies who were already on
my scent, and keeping it concealed during a journey of some thousands
of miles.

The ordinary hiding-places of valuable papers, such as the lining of
clothes, or a false bottom to a trunk, I dismissed without serious
consideration. My luggage would probably be stolen, and I might be
drugged long before I reached Dalny.

The problem was all the more difficult for me because I have
generally made it a rule to avoid charging myself with written
instructions. I am sufficiently well known by reputation to most
European sovereigns to be able to dispense with ordinary credentials.
But in approaching the Mikado of Japan, a ruler to whom I was
personally unknown, it was clearly necessary for me to have something
in writing from the Russian Emperor.

All at once an idea flashed on my mind, so simple, and yet so
incapable of detection (as it seemed to me), that I almost smiled in
the face of the man who was dogging my steps along the street, no
doubt under instructions from the War Syndicate.

That afternoon I was closeted with the Emperor of All the Russias in
his private cabinet for nearly an hour.

It is not my habit to repeat details of private conversations, when
they are not required to illustrate the progress of public events,
and therefore I will say merely that the Czar was evidently in
earnest in his desire to avoid war, but greatly hampered and
bewildered by the difficult representations made to him by, or on
behalf of, those to whose interests war was essential.

It was melancholy to see the destinies of half Europe and Asia, and
the lives of scores of thousands of brave men, hanging on the will of
an irresolute young man, depressed by the consciousness of his own
infirmity, and desperately seeking for some stronger mind on which to
lean. Had I not been placed by my Polish sentiment in a position of
antagonism to the Czardom, perhaps--but it is useless to indulge in
these reflections.

One thing in the course of the interview struck me as having great
significance for the future. I found that his majesty, who had
entertained at one time a strong dislike of the German Emperor, a
dislike not untinged with jealousy, had now completely altered his
opinion. He spoke to me of Wilhelm II. in terms of highest praise,
declared that he was under the greatest obligations to him for useful
warnings and advice, said that he believed he had no truer or more
zealous friend.

When I drove to the house of M. Petrovitch that evening I carried,
carefully sewn between the inner and outer folds of my well-starched
shirt-front, where no sound of crackling would excite remark, a sheet
of thin note-paper covered in a very small handwriting with the text
of the Czar's letter to the ruler of Japan.

M. Petrovitch was not alone. Around his hospitable board he had
gathered some of the highest and proudest personages of the Russian
Court, including the Grand Duke Staniolanus, generally believed to be
the heart and soul of the War Party. His imperial highness was
well-known to be a desperate gambler, up to the neck in debts
contracted at the card-table, and bent on recouping himself out of
the wealth of Korea and Manchuria.

I was duly presented to this royal personage (whom I had met once
before under widely different circumstances) in the character of a
Peace Crusader, an emissary of the philanthropists of Great Britain.

At the dinner-table, where I found myself placed on my host's left
hand, while the Grand Duke was on his right, the conversation
continued to be in the same strain. That Petrovitch believed me to be
an English peace fanatic I did not believe any longer, but I could
not tell if any, or how many, of the others were in his confidence.

As soon as the solid part of the feast was disposed of, Petrovitch
rose to his feet, and after a bow to the Grand Duke, launched out
into a formal speech proposing my health.

He commenced with the usual professions in favor of peace, spoke of
the desire felt by all Russians to preserve the friendship of
England, eulogized the work done by my friend the editor, and by
other less disinterested friends of Russia in London, and wound up by
asking all the company to give me a cordial welcome, and to send a
message of congratulation and good-will to the British public.

Knowing as I did, that the man was a consummate rogue, who had
probably invited me to his house in order to keep me under
observation, and possibly to prevent my getting scent of the
intrigues pursued by his friend and ally, Princess Y----, I was still
at a loss to understand the reason for this performance.

I have learned since that an account of the proceedings, with
abstracts from this hypocritical speech, was telegraphed to England,
and actually found its way into some of the newspapers under the
heading, "Peace Demonstration in St. Petersburg: No Russian Wants
War."

There was one of the guests, however, who made no pretense of
listening with pleasure to the smooth speech of M. Petrovitch. This
was a dark young man of about thirty, in a naval uniform. He sat
scowling while his host spoke, and barely lifted his glass from the
table at the conclusion.

A minute or two later I took an opportunity to ask the promoter the
name of this ungracious officer.

"That?" my host exclaimed, looking 'round the table, "Oh, that is
Captain Vassileffsky, one of our most distinguished sailors. He is a
naval aide-de-camp to the Czar."

I made a note of his name and face, being warned by a presentiment
which I could not resist that I should come across him again.

The champagne now began to flow freely, and as it flowed the tongues
of many of the company were unloosed by degrees. From the subject of
peace the conversation passed rapidly to the possibilities of war,
and the Japanese were spoken of in a way that plainly showed me how
little those present understood the resolution and resources of the
Island Empire.

"The Japanese dare not fire the first shot and, since we will not,
there will be no war," declared my left-hand neighbor.

"The war will be fought in Japan, not in Manchuria," affirmed the
Grand Duke with a condescending air. "It will be a case of the Boers
over again. They may give us some trouble, but we shall annex their
country."

M. Petrovitch gave me a glance of alarm.

"Russia does not wish to add to her territory," he put in; "but we
may find it necessary to leave a few troops in Tokio to maintain
order, while we pursue our civilizing mission."

I need not recount the other remarks, equally arrogant.

Abstemious by habit, I had a particular reason for refraining from
taking much wine on this night. It was already past nine o'clock, the
train for Moscow, which connected there with the Siberian express,
started at midnight, and I had to be at the police bureau by eleven
at the latest to make the changes necessary for my disguise.

I therefore allowed my glass to remain full, merely touching it with
my lips occasionally when my host pressed me to drink. M. Petrovitch
did not openly notice my abstinence, but presently I heard him give
an order to the butler who waited behind his chair.

The butler turned to the sideboard for a moment, and then came
forward bearing a silver tray on which stood a flagon of cut-glass
and silver with a number of exquisite little silver cups like
egg-shells.

"You will not refuse to taste our Russian national beverage, Mr.
Sterling," the head of the War Syndicate said persuasively, as the
butler began filling the tiny cups.

It was a challenge which I could not refuse without rudeness, though
it struck me as rather out of place that the vodka should be offered
to me before to the imperial guest on my host's right.

The butler filled two cups, M. Petrovitch taking the second from the
tray as I lifted the first to my lips.

"You know our custom," the financier exclaimed smilingly. "No
heeltaps!"

He lifted his own cup with a brave air, and I tossed off the contents
of my own without stopping.

As the fiery liquor ran down my throat I was conscious of something
in its taste which was unlike the flavor of any vodka I had ever
drunk before. But this circumstance aroused no suspicion in my mind.
I confess that it never occurred to me that any one could be daring
enough to employ so crude and dangerous a device as a drugged draft
at a quasi-public banquet, given to an English peace emissary, with a
member of the imperial family sitting at the board.

I was undeceived the next moment. Petrovitch, as soon as he saw that
my cup had been emptied, sat down his own untasted, and, with a
well-acted movement of surprise and regret, turned to the Grand Duke.

"I implore your pardon, sir. I did not ask if you would not honor me
by taking the first cup!"

The Grand Duke, whom I readily acquitted of any share in the other's
design, shrugged his shoulders with an indifferent air.

"If you wish your friends to drink vodka, you should not put
champagne like this before us," he said laughing.

Petrovitch said something in reply; he turned and scolded the butler
as well, I fancy. But my brain was becoming confused. I had just
sufficient command of my faculties left to feign ignorance of the
true situation.

"I am feeling a little faint. That _pâté_"--I contrived to murmur.

And then I heard Captain Vassileffsky cry out in an alarm that was
unmistakably genuine--"Look out for the Englishman! He is
swooning"--and I knew no more.




CHAPTER VI

DRUGGED AND KIDNAPPED


My first thought, as my senses began to come back to me, was of the
train which was due to leave Petersburg for Moscow at midnight.

I clutched at my watch, and drew it forth. The hands marked the time
as 9.25. Apparently I had not been unconscious for more than a few
seconds.

My second glance assured me that my clothes were not disarranged. My
shirt-front, concealing the Czar's autograph letter, was exactly as
when I sat down to the table.

Only after satisfying myself on these two points did I begin to take
in the rest of my surroundings.

I was resting on a couch against the wall in the room where we had
dined. My host, the head of the Manchuria Syndicate, was standing
beside me, watching my recovery with a friendly and relieved
expression, as though honestly glad to see me myself again. A
servant, holding in his hand a bottle which appeared to contain sal
volatile, was looking on from the foot of the bed, in an attitude of
sympathetic attention. The other guests had left the room, and the
state of the table, covered with half-filled glasses and hastily
thrown down napkins, made it evident that they had cleared out of the
way to give me a chance to come to.

The cold air blowing over my forehead told me that a window had been
opened. A Russian January is not favorable to much ventilation. As a
rule the houses of the well-to-do are provided with double windows,
which are kept hermetically sealed while the rooms are in use. The
fact that the dining-room was still warm was sufficient proof that
the window could not have been opened for more than the briefest
time.

It was a singular thing that, in spite of these assurances that my
swoon had been an affair of moments only, I was seized by an
overmastering desire to get away from the house immediately.

I heard M. Petrovitch exclaim--

"Thank Heaven--you are better! I began to be afraid that your seizure
was going to last. I must go and reassure my guests. The Grand Duke
will be delighted to hear your are recovering. He was most distressed
at the attack."

I sat upright with an effort, and staggered to my feet.

"I am ashamed to have given you so much trouble," I said. "I can't
remember ever fainting like this before. Please make my excuses to
his imperial highness and the rest of the company."

"But what are you doing?" cried M. Petrovitch in dismay. "You must
not attempt to move yet."

"I shall be better in bed," I answered in a voice which I purposely
strove to render as faint as possible. "If you will excuse me, I will
go straight to my hotel."

The promoter's brow wrinkled. I saw that he was trying to devise some
pretext to detain me, and my anxiety to find myself clear of his
house redoubled.

"If you will do me a favor, I should be glad if you would let one of
your servants come with me as far as the hotel," I said. "I am
feeling rather giddy and weak."

The secret chief of the War Party caught eagerly at the suggestion.
It was no doubt exactly what he desired.

"Mishka," he said, turning to the servant, and speaking in Russian,
"this gentleman asks you to accompany him to his hotel, as he has not
yet recovered. Take great care of him, and do not leave him until he
is safe in his own bed."

The man nodded, giving his master a look which said--I understand
what you want me to do.

Thanks to this request on my part, M. Petrovitch raised no further
objection to my departure. I stumbled out of the room, pretending to
cling to the servant's arm for support, and let him help me on with
my furs, while the porter was summoning a sleigh.

There was a hurried consultation in low tones between my host and the
porter. Rather to my surprise the carriage, when it appeared, was a
closed one, being a species of brougham on runners instead of wheels.
I allowed myself to be carried down the steps like a child, and
placed inside; the door was closed, with the windows carefully drawn
up, and the jailer--for such he was to all intents and purposes--got
on the box.

The sleigh swept out of the courtyard and across the city. Directly
it was in the street, I very softly lowered one of the windows and
peered out. The streets seemed to me more deserted than usual at such
an hour. I was idly wondering whether the imminence of war could
account for this when I heard a church clock beginning to strike.

Once--twice--the chimes rang out. And then, as I was preparing to
close the window, they went on a third time--a fourth!

I held my breath, and listened with straining ears, as the great
notes boomed forth from the distant town across the silent streets
and houses.

One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten--ELEVEN!

I understood at last. That drugged sleep had lasted an hour and a
half, and before I came to myself my watch had been deliberately set
back to the minute at which I lost consciousness, in order to prevent
me from suspecting that I had been searched, or that there was
anything wrong about the affair.

Had I taken time for reflection I should probably have made up my
mind to lose the Moscow express. In order to lull the suspicions of
the conspirators, by making them believe I was their dupe, I should
have let myself be taken to the hotel and put to bed in accordance
with the kind instructions of my late host. In that case, no doubt,
my watch would have been secretly put right again while I was asleep.

But I could not bear the idea of all my carefully planned
arrangements being upset. Above all things, I desired to keep up my
prestige with the superintendent of police, Rostoy, who regarded me
as an invincible being possessed of almost magical powers. At the
moment when the clock was striking I ought to have been walking into
his room in the bureau of the Third Section.

Grinding my teeth with vexation, I very gently opened the door of
the carriage, which was traveling noiselessly over the snow, and
slipped out.

I had taken care to ascertain that no onlooker was near. As soon as
the sleigh was 'round the corner of the street I hailed a public
conveyance and directed the driver to take me to the police office.

I was only five minutes late in keeping my appointment. Detecting a
look of slight surprise on the face of the superintendent, I
apologized for keeping him waiting.

"It is my habit to be punctual, even in trifling matters like this,"
I remarked carelessly. "But the fact is I have been drugged and
kidnapped since I saw you, and it took me five minutes to dispose of
the rascals."

Rostoy stared at me with stupid incredulity.

"You are joking, Monsieur V----, I suppose," he muttered. "But,
however, since you have arrived, there is your disguise. You will
find everything in the pockets complete, including a handkerchief
marked with the initials of the name you have chosen."

"Monsieur Rostoy, you are an able man, with whom it is pleasure to do
business," I responded heartily.

The Russian swelled with pride at this compliment. I hastily changed
clothes, shifting nothing from my discarded costume except a
cigarette case which I had filled with the hotel cigarettes. My
inquiry as to the Gregorides brand smoked by M. Petrovitch had not
yet been answered.

"Surely you are not going to wear that linen shirt of yours right
across Siberia!" exclaimed Rostoy, who never took his eyes off me.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"It is a whim of mine always to wear linen," I responded. "I am not a
rheumatic subject. And, besides, I have no time to lose."

The superintendent threw a regretful look at the flannel shirt he had
provided for me.

As soon as I had finished my preparations I handed a thick bundle of
ruble notes to the superintendent.

"As much more when I come back safe," was all I said.

Rostoy snatched at his pay, his eyes sparkling with greed.

"Good-by and a good journey!" he cried as I strode out.

Once in the street, I had no difficulty in finding a sleigh, this
time an open one, to convey me to the railway station. I glanced at
my watch, which I had set by the church clock, and calculated that I
should have a few minutes to spare.

But I had not allowed for Russian ideas as to time. As the sleigh
drew up at the great terminus, and I came in view of the station
clock, I saw that it was on the stroke of midnight.

Flinging the driver his fare I rushed toward the barrier.

"Moscow!" I shouted to the railway official in charge.

"The train has just left," was the crushing reply.




CHAPTER VII

THE RACE FOR SIBERIA


The unnatural strain I had put on my strength, undermined as it had
been by the drugged vodka, gave way under this depressing failure,
and for an instant I seriously thought of abandoning my effort to
catch the Czar's messenger.

I could leave Colonel Menken to pursue his journey, taking care of
himself as best he could, while I followed by a later train. But I
had little thought of that, as to adopt such a course would be to
abandon the gallant officer to his fate. Whatever the War Syndicate
might or might not know or suspect about myself, there could be no
doubt that they knew all there was to know about Menken, and that the
Colonel would never be allowed to reach Dalny with his despatch,
alive.

"Show me the passenger list," I demanded sternly, determined to use
to the full the advantages conferred on me by my uniform.

The station inspector hastened to obey. He took me into the booking
office, opened a volume, and there I read the name and destination of
every passenger who had left for Moscow that night. It is by such
precautions that the Russian police are enabled to control the
Russian nation as the warders control the convicts in an English
prison.

At the very head of the list I read the name of Colonel Menken,
passenger to Dalny, on his imperial majesty's service.

It was incredible folly thus publicly to proclaim himself as an
object of suspicion to the powerful clique engaged in thwarting the
policy of their nominal ruler.

I glanced my eye down the list in search of some name likely to be
that of an emissary of the Syndicate. It was with something like a
shock that I came upon the conspicuous entry--

"The Princess Y----, lady-in-waiting to H. I. M. the Dowager Empress,
passenger to Port Arthur, on a visit to her uncle, commanding one of
the forts."

Stamping my foot angrily, in order to impress the railway official, I
said--

"Order a pilot engine immediately to take me to Moscow. Tell the
driver he is to overtake the express, and enter the Moscow station
behind it."

There was some demur, of course, and some delay. But I wore the
livery of the dreaded Third Section, and my words were more powerful
than if I had been the young man who wears the Russian crown.

By dint of curses, threats, blows and an occasional ruble note, I got
my way. Indeed, I managed things so well that the railway officials
did not even ask me for my name. I showed them my official badge; but
when they made their report in the morning they would only be able to
say that an inspector of the Secret Police had ordered a pilot engine
to take him to Moscow in pursuit of the midnight express.

The impression which I was careful to convey, without putting it into
words, was that I was on the track of an absconding Nihilist.

Within half an hour of my arrival at the terminus a light but
powerful locomotive drew up on the main line of rails, with
everything in readiness for an immediate start.

I leaped into the driver's cab, where I found the driver himself and
two stokers hard at work increasing the head of steam, and gave the
order to go.

The driver touched the tap, the whistle rang out once, and the wheels
began to revolve. Ten seconds later we were beyond the station lights
and facing the four hundred miles of frozen plain that lay between us
and Moscow.

Every one has heard the story of this famous piece of road. The
engineers of the line, accustomed to map out their routes in other
countries with reference to the natural obstacles and the convenience
of commerce, waited upon the great autocrat, Nicholas I., a very
different man from his descendant, and asked him for instructions as
to laying out the first railway in the Russian Empire.

The Czar called for a map of his dominions, and then, taking a ruler
in his hand, drew a straight line between the old and new capitals.

And so the line has been made, a symbol to all who travel on it of
the irresponsible might of the Russian Czardom.

It was not till we were fairly on our way, and the speed had risen to
something like fifty miles an hour, that I realized what I had done
in entering on this furious race.

I had never traveled on a detached engine before, and the sensation
at first was quite unnerving.

Unlike a motor car, in which the hand of the driver has to be
perpetually on the steering-gear, and his eye perpetually on the
alert, the pilot engine seemed to be flung forward like a missile,
guided by its own velocity, and clinging to the endless rails with
its wheels as with iron claws. With the rush as of wind, with the
roar as of a cataract, with the rocking as of an earthquake, the
throbbing thing of iron sprang and fled through the night.

Hour after hour we rushed across the blinding desert of snow, in
which nothing showed except the flying disk of light cast by the
engine lamps, and the red and white balls of fire that seemed to
start, alight, and go out again as we frantically dashed past some
wayside station.

As the speed increased the light pilot engine, not steadied by a
long train of coaches, almost rose from the rails as it raced along.
Over and over again I thanked my stars that there were no curves to
be taken, and I blessed the memory of that famous ruler wielded by
the hand of Nicholas I. Here and there, at some slight rise in the
ground, the engine literally did leave the rails and skim through the
air for a few yards, alighting with a jar that brought my teeth
together like castanets, and rushing forward again.

I clung to a small brass hand-rail, and strained my eyes through the
darkness. I could not have sat down, even had there been a seat
provided for me--the pace was too tremendous. I was tired and unwell,
and a slight feeling of headache and sickness began to gain on me,
engendered by the vibration of the engine, the smell of oil, and the
fearful heat of the furnace.

It was some hours since we had started, but it was still pitch dark,
with the wintry blackness of a northern night. I leaned and gazed
forward with dull eyes, when I was aware of two red sparks that did
not grow and rush toward us as I expected.

Were we slackening speed by any chance? I turned to the engine
driver, and pointed with my hand.

The grimy toiler nodded. Then making a trumpet of his hands he
shouted above the rattle of the wheels--

"The rear-lights of the express!"




CHAPTER VIII

THE CZAR'S MESSENGER


I drew out my watch and glanced at it by the light of the flaring
stoke-hole. It was just half-past eight.

The time taken up on the journey between Petersburg and Moscow varies
greatly according to the state of the weather and the amount of snow
on the line. But even in the summer the best trains are allowed
twelve hours, while the slow ones take nearly twenty-four. The
special Siberian express was timed to reach the ancient capital of
the czars at ten o'clock in the morning, and we had overtaken it with
rather more than an hour to spare.

I ordered the driver to creep up gradually, but not to approach too
near the hindmost coach of the train in front until Moscow was in
sight.

Obedient to my instructions, he slackened speed by degrees, till we
were rolling along at the same rate as the express, with a space of
three or four hundred yards between us.

Presently a red flag was thrust out from a side window at the rear
of the last coach and waved furiously. The driver of my engine
responded with first a green and then a white signal, indication that
there was no danger though caution was desirable.

The express perceptibly quickened its speed, but of course without
our allowing it to get farther ahead. At last the spires of the
Kremlin, and the green copper domes gleamed out across the waste, and
I nodded to the driver to close up.

He managed the maneuver with the skill of an artist. Inch by inch we
neared the guard's van in front, and our buffers were actually
touching as the engine in front blew off steam and we slowed
alongside the Moscow station.

Before the wheels of the express had ceased to move I was out on the
platform, and running up to the guard of the express.

"I have come on the pilot engine from Petersburg," I told him
hurriedly. "Tell no one of my arrival. Do not report the chase. If
you are questioned, say that you have orders to say nothing. And now
tell me which is the train for Dalny and Port Arthur, and when does
it leave?"

The guard, thoroughly cowed, promised implicit obedience. He showed
me a long corridor train with handsome sleeping cars and dining
saloons, which was drawn up ready at another platform.

"That is the train which goes to Baikal," he told me. "If the ice on
the lake will bear, rails may be laid right across it; if not, there
will be sleighs to transport the passengers to a train on the other
side. The train leaves at noon."

I thanked him and strolled off down the platform, glancing into the
carriages of the newly-arrived train as I passed in search of the
Czar's messenger.

I did not anticipate that any harm could have happened to him so soon
after leaving Petersburg. The object of the conspirators would be
defeated if Nicholas II. learned of any accident to his messenger in
time to send another despatch. It was more likely, at least so I
argued, that the Princess Y---- would accompany her victim across
Siberia, gradually worming her way into his confidence, and that only
at the last moment would she show her hand.

It was with a slight start that I encountered the face of the fair
emissary of M. Petrovitch, as she came to the door of her sleeping
compartment and looked out.

I was delighted to observe that this time she did not suspect me. In
fact, she evidently mistook me for one of the ordinary station
officials, for she gave me a haughty command:

"Go and see if there is a telegram for the Princess Y----."

Making a respectful salute I hastened off in the direction of the
telegraph office. On the way I interrupted a man in uniform carrying
an envelope in his hand.

"For the Princess Y----?" I demanded.

The man scowled at me and made as if to conceal the telegram. I saw
that it was a case for a tip and handed him a ruble note, on which he
promptly parted with his trust.

I turned around, and as soon as the messenger had moved off, I tore
open the envelope and read the message. Fortunately, it was not in
cipher, the rules against any such use of the wires, except by the
Government, being too strict.

This is what I read:

     "Our friend, who is now an inspector, will join you at
     Moscow. Look out for him. He has left his luggage with us,
     but does not know it."

Accident, which had hitherto opposed my designs, was favoring them at
last. It was clear that Rostoy had betrayed me, and that Petrovitch
had sent this wire to the Princess to put her on her guard. But what
was the "luggage" which I was described as having left in the hands
of M. Petrovitch?

I thought I knew.

Crumpling up the tell-tale message in my pocket, I darted into the
telegraph office, and beckoned to the clerk in charge.

"On his majesty's secret service," I breathed in his ear, drawing him
on one side. I showed him my police badge, and added, "An envelope
and telegram form, quick!"

Overwhelmed by my imperative manner, he handed me the required
articles. I hastily scribbled:

     "Our friend has parted with his luggage, though he does not
     know it. He has been unwell, but may follow you next week.
     To save trouble do not wire to us till you return."

Slipping this into the envelope, I addressed it to the Princess, and
hastened back to the carriage where I had left her.

I found her fuming with impatience and scolding her maid, who looked
on half awake. I handed her the bogus telegram with a cringing
gesture. She snatched at it, tore off the cover and read, while I
watched her furtively from under my lowered eyelashes.

The first part of the message evidently gave her the greatest
pleasure. The second part, it was equally evident, puzzled and
annoyed her.

"Fool! What is he afraid of now?" she muttered beneath her breath.

She stood gnawing her rose-red lips for a moment--even a night passed
in the train could not make her look less charming--and then turned
to me.

"That will do. No answer. Here, Marie, give this man a couple of
rubles."

I received the gratuity with a look of satisfaction which must have
surprised the tired waiting maid. In reality I had scored a most
important point. Thanks to my suppression of the first message and my
addition to the second, I had completely cut off communication
between the agent of the Syndicate and its head in Petersburg, for a
time; while I had lulled the beautiful plotter into a false security,
by which I was likely to benefit.

My anxieties considerably lightened for the time being, I now renewed
my search for Colonel Menken.

The train from Petersburg had emptied by this time, so I moved across
the station to where the luxurious Manchurian express was being
boarded by its passengers.

I got in at one end, and made my way slowly along the corridors,
stepping over innumerable bags and other light articles. In a corner
of the smoking car I came at last upon the man I sought.

Colonel Menken was a young man for his rank, not over thirty, with a
fine, soldierly figure, handsome face and rather dandified air. He
wore a brilliant uniform, which looked like that of some crack
regiment of Guards. A cigar was in his mouth, and he was making a
little nest for himself with rugs and books and papers, and a box of
choice Havanas. A superb despatch box, with silver mounts, was
plainly marked with his initials, also in silver.

I did not dare to choose a seat for myself in the same part of the
train as the man whom I was anxious to guard. The oppressive powers
wielded by the police of Russia are tolerated only on one condition,
namely, that they are never abused to the disparagement of the social
importance of the aristocracy.

Bearing this in mind, I proceeded to the coach set aside for the
servants of the rich passengers, and contrived to secure a place
close to that occupied in the day-time by the maid of the Princess.

Having more than an hour to spare, I now laid in a large stock of
Turkish tobacco and cigarette papers, so as to have some means of
beguiling the time on the long, wearisome run across Asia. I also
bought a second-hand valise, and stocked it modestly with clothes.
Finally I made a hearty breakfast in the station restaurant, and
boarded the train a few minutes before it rolled out of Moscow.

Needless to say, I had introduced myself to the superintendent of the
train, an official of great dignity and importance. As a police
agent, of course I traveled free on the Government lines. The
superintendent was good enough to offer me a spare bed in his private
cabin at the end of the train, and during the run we became the best
of friends.

But I must be excused from dwelling on the details of the journey,
not the first I had taken on the great transasiatic line. My whole
energies were absorbed in two tasks. In the first place, I had to
gain the confidence of the maid, Marie, and in the second to prevent
her mistress gaining the confidence of the messenger of the Czar.

"I hope that message I brought to the Princess did not contain any
bad news?" I said to Marie as soon as I got a chance of addressing
her.

This was when we were fairly on the way.

After first attending to her mistress, and seeing that she was
comfortably settled, the maid was at liberty to look after herself,
and I had seized the opportunity to render her a few trifling
services with her luggage.

"I don't know, I'm sure," was the answer to my question. "The
Princess tells me nothing of her secrets."

"Perhaps the Princess Y----"

"Oh, let's call her Sophy," the maid interrupted crossly.

Needless to say I welcomed these symptoms that Marie was no great
friend of her employer.

"Perhaps she has no secrets," I continued. "Have you been with her
long?"

"Only six months," was the answer. "And I don't think I shall stay
much longer. But you're quite mistaken if you think Sophy is one of
the innocent ones. She's always up to some mischief or other, though
what it is, I don't know."

"If you stay with her a little longer, you may find out. And then,
if it is anything political, you may make a good deal of money out of
her."

The girl's eyes brightened.

"Keep your eyes open," I said. "Look out for any scraps of paper you
see lying about. Keep a diary of the places Sophy goes to, and the
people she sees. And when you have anything to tell, let me know. I
will give you my address in Petersburg. And you may trust me to see
that you come off well."

Marie readily agreed to all I asked of her. The understanding thus
arrived at was destined to be of the greatest assistance to me.
Indeed, it is not too much to say that to this young Russian girl it
is due that the two greatest Powers in the Old World are not at this
moment battling on the Afghan frontier.

We had hardly been an hour under way before I saw the two objects of
my watchfulness seated side by side in the drawing-room car,
apparently on the friendliest terms.

Dismayed by this rapid progress, as it seemed, on the part of the
Princess, I reproached myself for not having warned Colonel Menken
before we started.

I resolved to put him on his guard at the earliest possible moment,
and with that view I hung about the smoking-car, waiting till I saw
him return to his corner.

This was not for some hours. Fortunately, owing to the universal
expectation of war, there were not many passengers proceeding to the
Far East. The train was practically empty, and so when Colonel Menken
had seated himself once more in the snug corner he had prepared for
himself, I was able to approach him without fear of being overheard.

He was just lighting a cigar as I came up, and took no notice of my
respectful salute till he had inhaled the tobacco smoke two or three
times and expelled it through his nostrils to test the flavor.

At last he turned to me.

"Well?" he said with some sharpness. "What is the matter?"

"I have seen in the passenger list that you are traveling on the
service of the Czar," I answered, "and I venture to place myself at
your orders."

Colonel Menken scowled at me haughtily.

"Does that mean that you want a tip?" he sneered. "Or has some fool
ordered you to shadow me?"

"Neither, Colonel," I replied. "I am a servant of the Czar, like
yourself, as you may see from my uniform, and as I have reason to
fear that there is an enemy of his majesty on the train, I wish to
put you on your guard."

Menken gave a self-confident smile.

"I am pretty well able to take care of myself, I believe," he said
boastfully. "As for the Nihilists, I no longer believe in their
existence. You may point out the man you suspect, if you like, of
course."

"It is not a man, Colonel, it is a woman."

"In that case the adventure promises to be interesting. I do not know
any of the women on board except the Princess Y----."

"You know her!" I allowed a note of surprise to appear in my voice.

"The Princess is related to me," the Czar's messenger declared, with
a rebuking frown. "I presume she is not the object of your
suspicions?"

"And if she were?"

"If she were, I should tell you that you had made a very absurd
mistake, my good fellow. The Princess is in the confidence of the
Dowager Empress; she is perfectly aware of the object of my mission,
and she has just promised me that if I carry it out successfully she
will become my wife."




CHAPTER IX

THE BETROTHAL OF DELILAH


Colonel Menken regarded me with ironical contempt as I tried to
apologize for my hinted distrust of his betrothed.

"That will do, my man. I shall tell the Princess of your blunder, and
I can assure you she will be heartily amused by it."

"At least you will remember that I wear his imperial majesty's
uniform," I ventured. "And, however much I have been misled as to the
intentions of her highness, I submit that I am entitled to secrecy on
your part."

"Am I to understand that some one has given you orders referring to
the Princess? I thought this was simply some idle suspicion of your
own?"

"My instructions were to watch over your safety, without letting you
perceive it, and to take particular note of any one who seemed to be
trying to form your acquaintance on the journey. If you now denounce
me to her highness, she will be annoyed, and in any case I shall be
of no further use to you."

"So much the better," the Colonel said rudely. "I consider your
being here at all as an act of impertinence. If I engage to say
nothing to the Princess--who, as you say, might be annoyed--will you
undertake to leave me alone for the future?"

"I will undertake to leave the train at Tomsk," I replied.

Colonel Menken closed with this offer, which was meant as a delusive
one. I had selected the first important stopping-place at which the
train waited sufficiently long for me to procure the materials of a
fresh disguise.

I took the train superintendent into my confidence, as far as to say
that I wished to assume a false character for the remainder of the
journey in order to be better able to play the spy on the object of
my suspicion. We agreed that one of the train attendants should be
put off at Tomsk, and that I should take his place.

After my scene with the Colonel, I could not venture to do much in
the way of overlooking them. But I made the best use of my friendship
with Marie, and she reported to me regularly what she observed of the
doings of her mistress.

"It is my belief that Sophy is going to marry that stupid Colonel,"
she informed me, not long after I had heard of the engagement. "Why?
I can't think. He has no brains, not much money, and I am certain she
is not in love with him."

"There has been a quarrel of some kind between those two," she
reported later on. "Colonel Menken has been questioning Sophy about
her reason for going to Port Arthur just now, when it may be attacked
by the Japanese."

All this time the Princess had made no move to possess herself of the
despatch which Menken was carrying--the real object of her presence
on board the train.

When Tomsk was reached, I went off into the town and procured
different hair and beard so as to effect a complete change in my
appearance. The disguise was clumsy enough, but, after all, neither
the Colonel nor his companion had had many opportunities of studying
my personal appearance.

In the little cabin of my friend the superintendent I carried out the
transformation, and finished by donning the livery of the railway
restaurant service.

Thus equipped, I proceeded to lay the table at which the betrothed
pair usually took their meals together.

As soon as the next meal, which happened to be dinner, was ready, I
proceeded to wait upon them. They noticed the change of waiters, and
asked me what had become of my predecessor.

"He got off at Tomsk," I told them. This was true--the getting rid of
the waiter whose place I wished to take had been a simple matter. It
must be remembered that I found myself everywhere received as an
inspector attached to the secret police, the dreaded Third Section,
and, in consequence, my word was law to those I had to deal with.

I added with an assumed air of mysterious consequence, "The Inspector
of Police also left the train at Tomsk. It is asserted that he is
going to make an important arrest."

Colonel Menken laughed. Then turning to the beautiful woman who sat
facing him across the small table, he said smilingly,

"It is lucky the inspector did not arrest you, my dear."

"Why, what do you mean?" she demanded.

"Simply that this officer, according to his own account, was charged
to watch over and protect your devoted servant, and in the exercise
of his functions he was good enough to hint to me that you were a
suspicious character, of whom I should do well to be on my guard."

"Infamous! The wretch! Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I promised the fellow not to. He was afraid of getting into trouble,
and as he had only blundered out of zeal, I let him off."

"And he has left the train. Why, I wonder?"

"I ordered him to."

The Princess Y---- looked less and less pleased. A minute later, I
caught her stealthily glancing in my direction, and realized that her
keen wits were already at work, connecting my appearance on the scene
with the disappearance of the inspector.

The next day, Colonel Menken and his betrothed took their seats at a
different table in the restaurant of the train.

I saw the meaning of this maneuver. It was of course a test by which
the Princess Y---- sought to learn if I was a spy, appointed to
replace the inspector. I took care not to assist her by following
them to the new table; on the contrary, I refused the offer of my
brother waiter, who was honest enough not to wish to take my tips
from me.

When we reached Irkutsk, I had another proof that the Princess was
beginning to feel uneasy. Marie informed me that her mistress had
ordered her to go into the town and send off a telegram, as she would
not trust the railway officials.

The message, which my ally faithfully reported to me, was addressed
to Petrovitch himself and ran as follows:

      Received wire from you at Moscow reporting our friend ill,
      and telling me not to wire you again till my return. I now
      fear some mistake. All going well otherwise.

We were carried across the frozen Baikal amid a furious snowstorm.
Huddled up in thick furs, and fighting to keep our blood circulating
under the leaden pressure of the cruel frost, there was no time to
think of conspiracies.

But on resuming the journey on the other side of the lake, I saw that
the cunning agent of the War Party was maturing some decisive attempt
on the messenger of peace. The talks of the lovers became closer and
more confidential, the manner of Colonel Menken grew daily more
devoted and absorbed, and Marie described her mistress as laboring
under an extraordinary excitement.

At last, on the very day the train crossed the Chinese frontier on
the way to Mukden, Marie came to me with a decisive report.

"Sophy has won!" she declared. "I overheard them talking again last
night. Ever since they left Tomsk they have been having a dispute,
Sophy declaring that the Colonel did not love her, because he
suspected her, and he, the stupid creature, swearing that he trusted
her entirely. It appears she had got out of him that he was carrying
a paper of some kind, and so she said that unless he gave her this
paper to keep till they reached Dalny or Port Arthur, she would not
believe in him, nor have anything more to say to him.

"In the end, she was too many for him. Last night he gave her the
paper in a sealed envelope, and I saw her take it from her breast
before she undressed last night."

"Where is it? What has she done with it?" I demanded anxiously.

"I can't tell you that. She had it in her hand when she dismissed me
for the night. It looked to me as though she meant to break the seal
and read it."

Full of the gravest forebodings, I hurried to the rear of the train,
got out my inspector's uniform, though without effecting any change
in my facial appearance, and made my way to the smoking-car.

Colonel Menken, who had just finished breakfast, was settling himself
down to a cigar and an illustrated magazine.

He gazed up at me in astonishment, as he perceived the change in my
costume.

"So the Princess was right!" he exclaimed angrily. "You are another
policeman."

I bowed.

"And charged, like the last, to protect me from my cousin and future
wife!"

"From the person who has robbed you of the Czar's autograph letter to
the Emperor of Japan, yes!"

Menken recoiled, thunderstruck.

"You knew what I was carrying?"

"As well as I know the contents of the telegram which the Princess
sent from Irkutsk to the head of the Manchurian Syndicate--the man
who has sworn that the Czar's letter shall never be delivered."

Colonel Menken staggered to his feet, bewildered, angry, half induced
to threaten, and half to yield.

"You must be lying! Sophy never left my sight while we were at
Irkutsk!"

"We can discuss that later. Will you, or will you not, reclaim his
majesty's letter--the letter entrusted to your honor?"

Menken turned white.

"I--I will approach the Princess," he stammered, obviously divided
between fear of losing her, and dread of myself and any action I
might take.

"That will not do for me," I said sternly. "I can only make you this
offer: Come with me at once to this lady's sleeping berth and regain
the despatch, and I will agree to say no more about it; refuse, and I
shall report the whole affair to his majesty personally."

"Who are you?" inquired the dismayed man.

"That is of no consequence. You see my uniform--let that be enough
for you."

He staggered down the car. I followed, and we reached the car where
the Princess was at the moment engaged, with Marie's aid, in putting
the last touches to her toilet.

She looked up at our appearance, gave an interrogative glance first
at Menken and then, at me, and evidently made up her mind.

"What is it, gentlemen?"

"The--the paper I gave--that you offered to--that--in short, I want
it immediately," faltered my companion.

"I have no paper of yours, and I do not know what you are talking
about, my friend," said the Princess Y---- with the calmest air in
the world.

Menken uttered a cry of despair.

"The letter, the letter I gave you last night--it was a letter from
the Czar," he exclaimed feebly.

"I think you must have dreamed it," said the Princess with extreme
composure. "Marie, have you seen any letter about?"

"No, your highness," returned the servant submissively.

"If you think there is anything here, you are welcome to look," her
mistress added with a pleasant smile. "As for me, I never keep
letters, my own or anybody else's. _I always tear them up._"

And with these words, and another smile and a nod, she stepped
gracefully past us, and went to take her seat in the part of the
train reserved for ladies.

Somewhere, doubtless, on the white Manchurian plain we had crossed in
the night, the fragments of the imperial peacemaker's letter were
being scattered by the wind.

Menken's face had changed utterly in the last minute. He resembled an
elderly man.

"Tell the Czar that I alone am to blame," were his last words.

Before I could prevent him, he had drawn a revolver from his pocket,
and put two bullets through his head.




CHAPTER X

THE ANSWER OF THE MIKADO


A week later, that is to say, on the 8th of February, 1904, I was in
Tokio.

The behavior of the Princess Y---- on hearing of the death of her
victim had been a strange mixture of heartlessness and hysterical
remorse.

At the first sound of the fatal shots, she came rushing to the scene
of the tragedy, and cast herself on the floor of the corridor beside
the dead man, seizing his hands, crying his name aloud, and weeping
frantically.

When I tried to raise her, so that the body might be removed, she
turned on me fiercely.

"This is your fault!" she cried. "Who are you, and how dared you
interfere with me?"

"As you see by my uniform, I am an inspector of police attached to
the Third Section."

She gazed at me searchingly for a moment, and then, lowering her
voice, and bringing her lips to my ear, she said with intense energy:

"It is a lie. I am here by the orders of the Minister himself, as you
must know well. You are acting against us, whoever you are."

"I am acting by order of the Czar," I responded.

She smiled scornfully.

"I expect that is another lie. You could not have got so far as you
have unless you had some one else behind you. Poor Nicholas!--Every
one knows what he is, and that he has less power than any other man
in Russia. Are you Witte's man, I wonder?"

"You are a bold woman to question me," I said. "How do you know that
I am not going to arrest you for stealing and destroying the Czar's
letter?"

"I should not remain long under arrest," was the significant answer.
She gave me another searching look, and muttered to herself, "If I
did not know that he was safe in the hands of my friends in
Petersburg I should think you must be a certain Monsieur ----"

She broke off without pronouncing my name, and turned away.

At Mukden, the next stopping place, the Princess Y---- left the
train, no doubt intending to travel back to Russia and report her
success.

In the meantime, I had reason to think she had notified her friends
in Manchuria to keep an eye on me.

All the way to Dalny I felt by that instinct which becomes second
nature to a man of my profession that I was under surveillance.
I detected a change in the manner of my friend the train
superintendent. My trifling luggage was carefully searched. In the
night when I was asleep some one went through my pockets. I was able
to see that even the contents of my cigarette case, which I had not
opened since leaving Petersburg, had been turned out and put back
again.

As the train neared Dalny I began to feel a little nervous. I had a
dread of being stopped on my way to embark on board the steampacket
which was still running to Tokio.

The train drew up at last, at the end of its five-thousand-mile-run,
and I stepped off it to the platform, carrying my valise in my hand.

The platform was literally swarming with spies, as it was easy for a
man of my experience to detect. I walked calmly through them to the
cab-stand, and hailed a droshky.

The driver, before starting off, exchanged a signal almost openly
with a stout man in plain clothes, who dogged me from the railway
carriage.

Presently I sighted the steamer, alongside the principal wharf, with
the smoke pouring out of its funnel, all ready to start.

The cabman whipped his horse and drove straight past the steamer.

"Where are you going?" I shouted.

"To the Custom House first; it is the regulation," was the answer.

Taking out my long neglected case, I placed a cigarette between my
lips, and asked the driver for some matches.

He passed me a wooden box. I struck several, but each went out in the
high wind before igniting the tobacco.

I was making another attempt as the droshky drew up outside the steps
of the Custom House. I dismounted negligently, while one of the
officials came and clutched my luggage. Then I walked slowly up the
steps, pausing in the porch to strike a fresh match.

A porter snatched the box from my hand. "Smoking is forbidden," he
said roughly. "Wait till you are out again."

I shrugged my shoulders, pinched the burning end of the cigarette,
which I retained in my mouth, and sauntered with an air of supreme
indifference after the man who was carrying my bag.

He led me into a room in which a severe-looking official was seated
at a desk.

"Your papers," he demanded.

I produced the papers with which I had been furnished by Rostoy.

The customs official scrutinized them, evidently in the hope of
discovering some flaw.

"On what business are you going to Tokio?" he demanded.

I smiled.

"Since when have the police of the Third Section been obliged to
render an account of themselves to the officers of the customs?" I
asked defiantly.

"How do I know that you are not a Japanese spy?"

I laughed heartily.

"You must be mad. How do I know that you are not a Nihilist?" I
retorted.

The customs officer turned pale. I saw that my chance shot had gone
home. The Russian imperial services are honeycombed by revolutionary
intrigues.

"Well, I shall detain your luggage for examination," he declared.

This time I pretended the greatest agitation. Of course, the more I
resisted the more he insisted. In the end he allowed me to depart
without my person being searched. The fact is I had convinced him
that he held an important prize in my worthless valise.

I was just in time to catch the steamer. As I crossed the gangway, a
man dressed like a coal-trimmer turned on me a last careful scrutiny,
and remarked,

"Your cigarette has gone out, Mister."

"Can you give me a light? Thank you!" I struck a match, drew a puff
of smoke, and handed him back the box. Then I walked on board, the
gangway was drawn in, and the Japanese steamer headed out to the open
sea.

On reaching Tokio I experienced some difficulty in obtaining an
audience of the Japanese ruler.

I was obliged to announce my name. It will hardly be believed, but
the chamberlain whom I had entrusted with the important secret,
brought back the answer that the Mikado had never heard of me!

"Tell his imperial majesty that there is no monarch of Europe, and
only two of Asia, who could say the same. I am here as the
confidential plenipotentiary of the Czar, with an autograph letter
addressed to the Mikado, and I respectfully ask leave to present it
in person."

Such a demand of course could not be refused. But even now the
haughty Japanese did not receive me in the privacy of his own
cabinet. On the contrary, I found myself introduced into the State
Council-Room, in which his majesty was seated at a table surrounded
by his chief advisers.

In particular I remarked the venerable Yamagata, conqueror of China,
and the round bullet-head of Oyama, the future overthrower of
Kuropatkin.

On the table was spread out a large map, or rather plan, of the
entire theater of war, including Manchuria, Korea, Japan and the seas
between. A man in naval uniform was standing beside the imperial
chair, with an expectant look on his face.

All eyes were turned upon me at my entrance. The Mikado beckoned to
me to approach him.

"Is it true that you bring me a letter from the Russian Emperor?" he
asked abruptly. "We have received information that such a letter was
on its way, but that the bearer was murdered on the Manchurian
railway four days ago."

"Your majesty's information is substantially correct," I answered.
"The messenger, a Colonel Menken, was seduced into parting with his
despatch, and committed suicide in consequence."

"Well, and what about yourself?"

"Foreseeing that the unscrupulous men who have been trying to force
on a war between his Russian majesty and your majesty would leave no
stone unturned to intercept this despatch, the Czar wrote a duplicate
with his own hand, which he entrusted to me, in the hope that I might
baffle the conspirators."

"Where is it?"

"I endeavored to conceal it by unstitching the front of the shirt I
am wearing, and sewing it up between the folds.

"Unfortunately I was drugged at a dinner party in Petersburg just
before starting. I was unconscious for an hour and a half, and I fear
that the opponents of peace have taken advantage of the opportunity
to find and rob me of the letter. But I will see, with your majesty's
permission."

The Mikado made no answer. Amid a breathless silence, with all the
room watching my movements, I tore open my shirt-front and extracted
a paper.

It was blank.

"So," commented the Japanese Emperor, sternly, "you have no such
credentials as you boasted of having."

"Pardon me, sire. Anticipating that the War Party would suspect the
object of my mission, and would resort to some such step to defeat
it, I purposely provided them with a document to steal, believing
that when they had robbed me of it they would allow me to proceed
unmolested. My real credentials are here."

I drew out my cigarette case, found the partially smoked cigarette I
had had in my mouth when I ran the gauntlet of the spies at Dalny,
and proceeded to cut off the paper. On the inner surface these words
were written in the hand of the Czar:

      The bearer of this, M. V----, has my full confidence, and
      is authorized to settle conditions of peace.
                         NICHOLAS.

As I respectfully placed the scrap of paper, with its charred edges,
in the Mikado's hand, I was conscious of a profound sensation in the
room. Aged statesmen and brilliant commanders bent eagerly across
the table to learn the character of the message thus strangely
brought to its destination.

His majesty read the brief note aloud. It was received with a murmur,
not entirely of satisfaction I was surprised to note.

Seeing that the Mikado made no remark, I ventured to say:

"I hope that the extreme character of the measures adopted by the
Czar to assure your majesty of his peaceful sentiments will have the
effect of convincing you that they are genuine."

The Emperor of Japan glanced around his council board as if to
satisfy himself that he and his advisers were of one mind before
replying:

"I appreciate the zeal and the extraordinary skill with which you
have carried out your mission. I regret that I cannot give you a
favorable answer to take back to your nation."

I was thunderstruck at this exordium. Slightly raising his voice, the
Mikado went on:

"Tell the Emperor of Russia that I do not distrust his sincerity, but
I distrust his power. The monarch who cannot send a letter through
his dominions in safety; who has to resort to stratagems and
precautions like these to overcome the opposition of his own
subjects, is not the ruler of his empire.

"Why, sir, do you suppose that if I had a message to send to my
brother in St. Petersburg I should have to stoop to arts like these?
That any subject of mine would dare to plot against me, to seduce my
messengers, to drug and rob them? Incredible! The tale you have told
me completely confirms everything I and my advisers have already
heard with regard to the Russian Government. It is a ship without a
captain, on which the helm is fought for and seized by different
hands in turn. To-day the real rulers of Russia are the men who are
bent on war--and who, while we are talking, have actually begun the
war!"

I gazed around the Council-Room, unable to believe my ears.

"Yes," the stern sovereign continued, "while you, sir, were entering
the Inland Sea, charged with this offer of peace"--his majesty tossed
the precious piece of paper on the table with a look of disdain--"a
Russian gunboat, the _Korietz_, was firing the first shot of the war
at one of my squadrons off Chemulpo."

The glances directed by those present at the naval officer behind the
imperial chair convinced me that he had just brought the fatal news
to the Council.

"And now," added the Mikado, "I will give my reply to the real
masters of Russia--to the directors of the _Korietz_."

He nodded to the naval officer, who walked across the floor to a box
on the wall like a telephone receiver, and pressed a button.

"That," his majesty explained, "is the signal for a flotilla of
torpedo boats to enter the harbor of Port Arthur and blow up the
Russian fleet."

I think a faint cry of remonstrance or misgiving must have escaped
me. The Japanese monarch frowned, and his voice took a still sterner
ring.

"Go back to your unfortunate master, and tell him that when he can
send me a public envoy, in the light of day, to ask for peace, and to
undertake the fulfilment of the pledges which his Ministers have
broken, I will grant his request."




CHAPTER XI

WHO SMOKED THE GREGORIDES BRAND


I left the presence of the Japanese Emperor deeply disheartened.

It is true I had myself foretold this failure, and that his Japanese
majesty and his advisers had been good enough to compliment me in
almost extravagant terms on the energy and resourcefulness I had
shown in baffling the enemies of peace.

But I am unaccustomed to defeat, no matter what are the odds against
me, and I felt that the first point in the game had been scored
against by the formidable woman whose beauty and strangely composite
character had fascinated me, even while I was countermining her.

For my work was not yet over. Indeed, it had but just begun.

I had not succeeded in averting war between the two great Powers of
Asia. But I hoped to thwart the efforts which I feared would be made
to extend the conflagration to Europe.

As soon as I had found myself once more on civilized ground, I had
despatched a cable to my Paris office, announcing my whereabouts and
asking for information.

The reader may be excused if he has forgotten a little episode which
marked my stay in Petersburg. I had noticed something peculiar and at
the same time familiar in the scent of the tobacco smoked by
Petrovitch, the financial adventurer whose scheme to enrich himself
and a corrupt clique of courtiers out of the spoils of Korea and
China was the true cause of the war.

By a ruse I had secured one of the cigarettes, smoked by this
dangerous plotter, and having ascertained that it bore the mark
_Gregorides, Crown Aa_, had instructed my staff to ascertain the
history of this particular make of cigarettes.

While I was resting in my hotel in Tokio, waiting for the reply to my
cable, I was honored by a visit from no less a personage than Privy
Councillor Katahashi, President of the Imperial Bank of Japan.

"I have come," the Privy Councillor explained as soon as the door was
closed, "to express the high sense of your ability and devotion which
we all possess, and to ask if it is possible for Japan to secure your
services."

Deeply gratified by this proposal, I was obliged to explain that I
was already retained in the interest of Russia.

"But what interest?" Mr. Katahashi persisted. "It is clear that you
are not acting on behalf of that group which has just succeeded in
its purpose of forcing a war."

"That is so," I admitted. "It is no breach of confidence--in fact, I
serve my employers by assuring you that my efforts are directed
toward peace."

"In that case there can be no antagonism between us, surely. Is it
not possible for you and me--I say nothing about our respective
Governments--to co-operate for certain purposes?

"I know enough of the conditions which prevail in the Russian Court
to feel pretty sure that it was not Nicholas II. who originally
sought you out, and entrusted you with this mission," the Japanese
statesman added.

"At the close of the last war in this part of the world," the Privy
Councillor went on, "Japan was robbed of the fruit of her victories
by an alliance of three Powers, Russia, Germany, and France. This
time we know that England will support us against any such
combination. Thanks to King Edward VII. we have nothing to fear. His
diplomacy, moreover, has secured the powerful influence of France on
the side of peace. Although nominally allied with the Czar, we know
that the French Government is determined to limit the area of the
war, and to take no part against us, except in one event."

"You mean," I put in, "in the event of an attack by England on
Russia."

"Exactly. And therefore we know that King Edward is making it his
particular care that no cause of conflict shall arise."

He paused, and glanced at me as though he considered that he had
sufficiently indicated the source from which my instructions were
received.

I contented myself with bowing.

"We know, also, that the most restless and ambitious of living
monarchs has been bending his whole thoughts and schemes, ever since
he ascended the throne, to one supreme end--the overthrow of the
British Empire by a grand combination of all the other Powers of the
world. If that monarch can force on a general strife in which England
will be involved on the side of Japan, while practically every other
European Power is leagued against her, M. Petrovitch and his timber
concessions will have done their work."

I drew a deep breath as I looked at the Japanese statesman with a
questioning gaze.

As if in answer to my unspoken query, a waiter of the hotel knocked
at the door in the same moment, and brought me the long-expected
cable from my agent in Europe.

I tore it open and read:

      Cigarettes Gregorides Crown Aa special brand manufactured
      to order of Marx, Berlin, tobacconist to German Emperor.

I looked up from reading the telegram to see the eyes of the Japanese
Privy Councillor fixed upon me with the inscrutable, penetrating gaze
of the Oriental.

"The message you have just received bears on the subject of our
conversation, does it not?" he inquired, but in the tone of one who
does not doubt what the answer will be.

With the caution which has become a habit with me, I read the cable
through carefully for the second time, and then placed it on the
fire, where it was instantly consumed.

The Japanese statesman smiled.

"You forget, I think, M. V----, that you have come here as the
emissary of a sovereign with whom we are at war, and that,
consequently, we cannot afford to respect your privacy.

"I have a copy in my pocket," he went on urbanely. "You have felt
some curiosity about a particular brand of cigarettes, and your
friends have just informed you that they are those supplied to the
German Emperor."

I looked at Mr. Katahashi with new respect.

"Your secret service is well managed, sir," I observed.

"Such a compliment from such a quarter is an ample reward for what
little pains I may have taken."

"Then it is you who are----?"

"The organizer of our secret service during the war?--I am."

"But you are a banker?" I turned my eyes to the card by which Mr.
Katahashi had announced his visit.

The Japanese gave another of his subtle smiles--those peculiar smiles
of the Oriental which make the keenest-witted man of the West feel
that he is little better than a blunderer.

"I came here prepared to take you into my confidence," he said
gravely. "I am well aware that it is the only safe course in dealing
with the Bismarck of underground diplomacy.

"I am equally well aware," the Privy Councillor added, "that a secret
confided to Monsieur V---- is as safe as if it had been told in
confidence to a priest of Buddha, for whom the penalty of betrayal is
to be flayed alive."




CHAPTER XII

THE SECRET SERVICE OF JAPAN


"Three years ago," Mr. Katahashi proceeded, "when we first recognized
that Japan would be obliged to fight Russia for her existence as a
free and independent country, his imperial majesty the Mikado
appointed me head of the intelligence department.

"I perceived that it would be necessary for me to establish centers
in the chief European capitals, and to have at my command a corps of
agents whose comings and goings would not attract the attention that
is usually given to the movements of persons connected with the staff
of an embassy.

"In our case precautions were necessary which would not have been
recognized in the case of another country.

"On the one hand, our Government has laid to heart the profound
advice of Herbert Spencer, that whatever is done for Japan should be
done by Japanese.

"On the other hand, our people have characteristic racial features
which make it practically impossible for a Japanese to disguise
himself as a Western European, so as to deceive European eyes.

"It was therefore necessary to provide an excuse for distributing
Japanese agents over the West without the true reason of their
presence being known.

"I solved this problem by founding the Imperial Bank of Japan."

"But, surely!" I exclaimed, "the Imperial Bank of Japan is a _bona
fide_ concern? Its shares are regularly quoted on the stock
exchanges. It negotiates loans, and carries on the ordinary business
of a bank?"

"Certainly. Why not? You forget that Japan is not a rich country.
What we lack in gold, we are obliged to make up in ingenuity and
devotion. Thanks to this idea of mine, the secret service of Japan
pays for itself, and even earns a small profit."

It gave me something like a cold shock to comprehend the character of
this people whom the Russians had so recklessly provoked to draw the
sword.

I thought of the intelligence departments of some Western Powers, of
the rank corruption that reigned on the Neva, where every secret had
its price; of the insane conceit of Berlin, which had forgotten
nothing and learned nothing since the days of Moltke; of the
luxurious laziness of Pall Mall, where superannuated soldiers dozed
in front of their dusty pigeon-holes after apoplectic lunches, and
exercised their wits chiefly in framing evasive answers suited to the
intelligence of the House of Commons.

And beside these pictures I placed this of the prosperous commercial
house, founded by the man before me, a man whose salary would
probably be sniffed at by a deputy-assistant controller in the
British War Office.

A bank, paying its way, and adding to the revenues of Japan, and yet
every member of its staff a tireless spy, ready to go anywhere and
risk everything on behalf of his native country!

Mr. Katahashi seemed to ignore the effect produced on my mind by his
modest explanation.

"I have told you this," he resumed, "because if I can succeed in
satisfying you that we are both working for the same ends, or at
least against the same enemy, I hope it will be agreeable to you to
co-operate with me."

I drew my brows together in anxious thought. In spite of the flattery
and deference of the Privy Councillor I could not but feel that I
should be the junior partner in any such combination as he proposed,
or, rather, I should find myself an instrument in the hands of one
whose methods were strange to me.

"Although his imperial majesty was not familiar with your name, you
must not suppose that your reputation is not known in the right
quarters. I have a very full report on your work in my office. I had
intended from the first to engage your services if we required any
Western aid; and, as a matter of fact, I was on the eve of sending
you a retainer, when I heard I had been anticipated by----"

"By Lord Bedale," I put in swiftly.

"By Lord Bedale, certainly," the Japanese acquiesced with a polite
bow and smile.

"After your interview with him, I lost sight of you," my
extraordinary companion went on. "Your wonderful transformation into
a Little Englander of the Peace-at-any-Price school threw my agents
off the scent. But I heard of your interview with Nicholas II."

"You did!"

Mr. Katahashi nodded.

"I recognized you in that transaction. I even guessed that you might
make an attempt to carry through a message from the Czar. But,
knowing the influences arrayed against you, I never expected you to
succeed. Your appearance in our Council-Room was a triumph on which I
congratulate you warmly.

"And now," the Mikado's Privy Councillor continued, "there remain two
questions:

"Supposing you are satisfied that the real author of this war is not
any one in Russia, but a certain monarch who smokes cigarettes made
by the house of Gregorides--

"And that the same ambitious ruler is now weaving his snares to
entangle Great Britain, in short your own employer, the----"

"Marquis of Bedale," I again slipped in.

Again the same polite but incredulous bow and smile from the Japanese
statesman.

"Would you be willing to accept a retainer from us?"

I sat upright, frowning.

The somewhat haughty attitude of the Emperor of Japan still rankled
within me.

"I will accept a retainer from his majesty the Mikado," I announced
stiffly. "From no one else."

Mr. Katahashi looked thoughtful.

"I will see what can be done," he murmured. "The second question----"

There was a momentary hesitation in his manner.

"I have just spoken to you of the precept of the great English
philosopher."

"It was, if I remember rightly, that you should employ only Japanese
in the service of Japan?"

The Privy Councillor bowed.

"Therefore, you will see, we are obliged to make a proposal which may
seem to you unusual--perhaps unreasonable."

"And this proposal is?" I asked, with undisguised curiosity.

"That you should become a Japanese."

I threw myself back in my chair, amazed.

"Your Excellency, I am an American citizen."

"So I have understood."

"An American citizen is on a level with royalty."

"That is admitted."

"Even the Dowager Empress of China, when engaging me in her service,
though she raised my ancestors to the rank of marquises, did not ask
me to forego my citizenship of the United States."

"That is not necessary," the Privy Councillor protested.

"Explain yourself, if you will be so good."

"A man may be an American citizen, although by birth he is a
Frenchman, a German, or even a negro. You yourself are a Pole, I
believe."

I could only bow.

"Now I do not propose that you should relinquish your political
allegiance, but only that you should exchange your Polish nationality
for a Japanese one."

"But how, sir?"

"It is very simple. By being adopted into a Japanese family."

I sat and stared at the Japanese statesman, with his mask-like face
and impenetrable eyes. I seemed to be in some strange dream.

Who shall judge the ways of the Asiatic! This daring organizer, a
match for the most astute minds of the West, believed that he could
only make sure of fidelity by persuading me to go through what
seemed the comedy of a mock adoption, a ceremony like the blood
brotherhood of an African tribe.

"And suppose I consent, into what family do you purpose to introduce
me?"

The Privy Councillor's look became positively affectionate as he
responded:

"If you would honor me by becoming my kinsman?"

I rose to my feet, shaking my head slowly.

"I appreciate the compliment your Excellency pays me. But, as we have
just now agreed, an American citizen has no equals except royalty.
Let us return to the German Emperor and his designs. If I cannot
serve you directly I may be able to do so indirectly."

The Japanese made no attempt to press his proposal.

Instead he plunged into a discussion of the intrigues which radiated
from Berlin.

"In nearly all the international difficulties and disagreements of
the last twenty years," he said, "it is possible to trace the evil
influence of Germany.

"To German sympathy, a secret encouragement, was due the wanton
invasion of Cape Colony by the Boers. To the Kaiser, and his promises
of support, was due the hopeless defiance of the United States by
Spain. The same Power tried to drag Great Britain into collision
with your Republic over the miserable concerns of Venezuela. For
years, Germany has been secretly egging on the French to raise
troubles against the English in Egypt. In the same spirit, the Sultan
has been abetted, first against England and next against Russia.

"All these schemes have been spoiled by the action of King Edward
VII. in establishing cordial relations with France, and even to a
certain extent with Russia.

"Now Wilhelm II. has taken advantage of the attraction of France to
England, to draw nearer to Russia. He has secured in his interest
some of the most influential personages at the Russian Court. The
Anglophobe grand dukes, the fire-eaters of the Admiralty, are all his
sworn allies.

"But that is not the worst.

"By some means which I have not yet been able to trace, the Kaiser
seems to have acquired a peculiar hold over Nicholas II.

"The whole policy of Russia seems to be tinged by this influence.
Even where the instigation of Germany is not directly apparent, yet
in a hundred ways it is clear that the Russian Government is playing
the German game. The cause of all this is a riddle, a riddle which it
is for you to solve."

"For me?"

The words escaped me involuntarily. I had listened with growing
uneasiness to the Privy Councillor's revelations.

"Undoubtedly. You have facilities which no one else possesses. You
enjoy the confidence of the Czar. You cannot be suspected of any
selfish designs, still less of any hostile feeling against Wilhelm
II., who is understood to be almost your personal friend."

"I never allow personal friendships to influence me in the discharge
of my duty."

"It is because I believe that, that I am talking to you like this,"
Mr. Katahashi responded quickly.

"Well!" he added after a short silence, "what do you say?"

"I must have the night to decide."

The Japanese Privy Councillor rose to say good-by.

After he had gone I sat up late into the night considering how far I
could serve my employer in England by entering into the projects of
the secret service of Japan.

In the morning, I was still undecided, but on the whole it seemed to
me that it would be better to act independently.

I was considering how to convey this decision to the Mikado's
minister, when he again presented himself before me.

His manner was deeply agitated. It was evident that he came to make a
communication of the highest importance.

Instead of taking the chair I offered him, he stood regarding me with
an expression that seemed one of awe.

"Monsieur V----," he said at length, "your conditions are accepted by
his imperial majesty."

"What conditions?" I asked, bewildered for the moment.

"Last night you informed me that an American citizen occupied the
same rank as royalty."

"Well?"

"The Mikado offers to make you a member of the imperial family by
adoption, and one of his majesty's cousins has consented to make you
his son!"




CHAPTER XIII

HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS


In these days, when princes resign their rank to marry commoners, and
queens elope with tutors, it is probable that most Western minds will
see nothing out of the way in the condescension of the Japanese ruler
in admitting a diplomatic agent to the honor of the imperial
cousinship.

But the dynasty of Japan is the most illustrious in the world,
excepting only that of Great Britain. Like Edward VII., the Mikado
traces his lineage back to pagan gods. From the days of the famous
Empress Jimmu, an unbroken line of sacred sovereigns has filled the
throne of the Realm of the Rising Sun during more than two thousand
years.

Mr. Katahashi was evidently pleased to see that I appreciated to the
full the tremendous honor accorded to me.

"An imperial carriage is waiting to convey you to the Palace," he
said. "But it will not be becoming for you to wear that uniform. I
have brought you a Japanese dress."

An attendant came into the room bearing a gorgeous robe of green silk
embroidered with golden chrysanthemums.

I put it on like one in a dream. The Privy Councillor with his own
hands girt around my waist the two weapons, sacred from time
immemorial to the use of the Japanese noble, the sword with which to
behead his friend, and the dagger with which to disembowel himself.

Needless to say, I had no expectation that I should ever have
occasion to regard these magnificently embellished weapons in any
other light than as ornamental badges of rank.

As we rode to the Palace, I could not forbear contrasting this
splendid treatment with that which I had been accustomed to receive
from some of the European sovereigns to whom I had rendered important
services.

Even the German Kaiser, who trusted me more than the head of his own
police, who talked to me almost on the footing of an intimate friend,
had never offered me so much as the coveted "von" before my name--had
not given me even the pretty Red Eagle which is lavished on
second-rate generals and lords-in-waiting.

I became well-nigh appalled as I contrasted the sluggish
conversation, the hide-bound officialism, the stereotyped and sleepy
methods of the Western Powers with the sleepless energy, the daring
initiative, the desperate industry and courage of this rejuvenated
Eastern race.

What could any of these obsolete European Governments effect against
a nation which was really a vast secret society of forty-five
millions, directed by a sacred chief, and wielding all the mechanical
resources of the West with the almost inhuman subtlety and
ruthlessness of the Orient?

"Anything can be done for money." This maxim, which is forever on the
lips of Russian statesmen, no longer sounded true in the meridian of
Tokio.

The ruler of Japan had not offered me so much as a yen. Nay, it
was clearly expected and intended that I should devote myself
to the service of my new country without pay, and with the same
single-hearted devotion as Mr. Katahashi himself. The Mikado was
going to enroll in his services as an unpaid volunteer the most
highly-paid, in other words, the most trusted and feared, secret
service agent of two hemispheres.

And it was to cost him? An embroidered garment and two sentences
spoken in a private audience!

Such are the methods of Japan!

On our arrival at the Palace we were received by a chamberlain, who
conducted us by the private staircase to the Hall of the Imperial
Family.

The Hall is an imposing room, hung with portraits of deceased
mikados. A single chair, decorated with the emblem of the Rising Sun,
stood at the upper end.

Almost as soon as we had taken our places, a door behind the chair
was thrown up, and a number of the officers of the household, all
wearing the ancient national costume, filed in, and grouped
themselves around the imperial chair.

Then a silver bell sounded, and his imperial and sacred majesty,
Mutsuhito CXXI., Mikado, walked slowly forward into the Hall,
accompanied by his son and heir, the Crown Prince Yoshihito, and an
elderly man, attired with great richness, who was, as my guide
whispered to me, his imperial highness Prince Yorimo, second cousin
to the Emperor, and the man who had consented to be my titular
father.

The ceremony was brief but impressive. I could not but be struck by
the contrast between the two Mikados--the one whom I had seen
yesterday, an alert statesman, wearing Western clothes, and speaking
French with hardly a trace of accent, and the one before me now, a
solemn, pontifical figure, in his immemorial robes, moving, speaking
with the etiquette of a bygone age.

Everything passed in the Japanese language, of which I did not then
know a single word.

Mr. Katahashi did his best to provide a running translation,
whispering in my ear, and prompting me with the Japanese words which
it was necessary for me to pronounce.

As far as I could understand, Prince Yorimo asked permission of the
Emperor to adopt a son, as he was childless and desired to have some
one who would sacrifice to his own spirit and those of his father and
grandfather after he was dead.

The Mikado graciously consenting, I was brought forward, and made to
renounce my own family and ancestors, and promise to sacrifice
exclusively to those of my new father.

Prince Yorimo next brought forward a robe embroidered with the
imperial emblems, the most prominent of which was the Rising Sun. I
was divested of the dress lent me by Katahashi, and my adoptive
father flung the imperial garment over my shoulders.

The girding on of the samurai weapon followed, and my father
addressed me a short exhortation, bidding me hold myself ready at all
times to obey the will of the Divine Emperor, even to the point of
committing _seppuku_ at his command.

_Seppuku_ is the correct name of the rite known in the West by the
vulgar name of _hara-kiri_, or the "happy despatch." It is a form of
voluntary execution permitted by the ancient laws of Japan to men of
noble rank, much as European nobles were allowed to be beheaded
instead of being hanged.

I was then permitted to kiss the hand of Prince Yorimo, who formally
presented me to the Mikado, whose hand also I had to kiss, kneeling.

That was the whole of the ceremony, at the close of which Mr.
Katahashi bade me a temporary farewell, and my princely father
carried me off to a banquet in his own mansion.

Tedious and uninteresting as I fear these details must seem to the
reader, I have thought it right to record them as an illustration of
the spirit of Japan, of that country of which I am proud to be an
adopted son.

The moment we had quitted the Hall of the Imperial Family, Prince
Yorimo began to talk to me in French.

He proved to be a most fascinating companion. Old enough to remember
the feudal age, which was still in full vigor in Japan forty years
ago, he had since mastered most of the knowledge of the West.

I soon found that the Prince was by no means disposed to treat the
adoption as a mere form. It was evident that the old gentleman had
taken a strong fancy to me. He gave me a most affectionate welcome on
the threshold of his house, and immediately calling his servants
around him, introduced me to them as their future master, and bade
them obey me as himself.

I was more touched than I care to say by this kind treatment. My own
parents have long been dead; I know nothing of any other relations,
if I have any; I have long been a wanderer and an adventurer on the
face of the earth, and now, at last, I felt as though I had found a
home.

Something of this I tried to convey to his imperial highness.

"My son," he replied with deep tenderness, "I feel that to me you
will be a son indeed. You shall learn the language of our beautiful
country, you shall grow used to our national ways. Before long you
will let me provide you with a daughter of the Chrysanthemum to be
your wife, and my grandchildren shall be Japanese indeed."

A sound of bells was heard outside.

"My friends are coming to pay the customary congratulation," the aged
prince explained. "As it is necessary that you should have a name
suited to your new rank, I ask you to take that of my father,
Matsukata."

A few words of direction were spoken to the steward of the chambers,
who went out. Immediately afterward he returned, throwing open the
doors widely, and announced:

"The Marquis Yamagata to congratulate his imperial highness Prince
Matsukata!"

And the Prime Minister of Japan came toward me.




CHAPTER XIV

THE SUBMARINE MINE


Having told the reader as much as was necessary to enable him to
understand my subsequent proceedings, and the real forces at work in
the underground struggle which produced the tragedy of the Dogger
Bank, I will suppress the remainder of my adventures in Tokio.

When I left the capital of my new country I wore around my neck,
under the light shirt of chain mail without which I have never
traveled for the last twenty years, a golden locket containing the
miniature portrait of the loveliest maiden in the East or in the
West.

It was a pledge. When little, tender fingers had fastened it in its
place, little moving lips had whispered in my ear, "Till peace is
signed!"

I had decided to return to the capital of what was now the country of
my enemies, by much the same route as I had left it.

To do so, it was necessary to run the blockade of Port Arthur, or
rather to feign to do so, for the Japanese Minister of Marine had
been asked by my friend Katahashi to give secret instructions to
Admiral Togo on my behalf.

In order to ensure a welcome from the Russian commander, and to
dispel any suspicions, I planned to take in a cargo of Welsh steam
coal.

Through an agent at Yokohama I chartered a British collier lying at
Chi-fu, with a cargo for disposal. Leaving the Japanese port on a
steamer bound for Shanghai, I met the collier in mid-ocean, and
transferred myself on board her.

As soon as I had taken command, I ordered the skipper to head for
Port Arthur.

This was the first intimation to him that he was expected to run the
blockade, and at first he refused.

"I'm not afraid--myself," the sturdy Briton declared, "but I've got a
mixed crew on board, Germans and Norwegians and Lascars, and all
sorts, and I can't rely on them if we get in a tight place."

I glanced around at the collection of foreign faces and drew the
captain aside. He, at least, was an Englishman, and I therefore
trusted him.

"There is no danger, really," I said. "Admiral Togo has had secret
orders to let me through. This cargo is merely a pretext."

The rough sailor scratched his head.

"Well, maybe you're telling the truth," he grunted. "But, dang me, if
I can get the hang of it. You might belong to any country almost by
the cut of your jib; you say you've fixed things up with the blessed
Japs, and you're running a cargo of coal for the blessed Rooshians.
It's queer, mortal queer, that's all I can say. Howsomdever----"

I took out a flask of three-star brandy, and passed it to the
doubting mariner.

He put it first to his nose, then to his lips.

"Ah! Nothing wrong about that, Mister," he pronounced, as he handed
back the flask.

"It's a fifty-pound job for yourself, no matter what becomes of the
cargo," I insinuated.

The worthy seaman's manner underwent a magic change.

"Port your helm!" he yelled out suddenly and sharply to the man at
the wheel. "Keep her steady nor'-east by nor', and a point nor'. Full
steam ahead! All lights out! And if one of you lubbers so much as
winks an eyelid, by George, I'll heave him overboard!"

The crew, who had shown a good many signs of uneasiness since my
coming over the side, seemed to think this last hint worth attending
to. They slunk forward to their duties, leaving the captain and
myself to pace the quarter-deck alone.

We steamed swiftly through the darkness till we began to see the
search-lights of the Japanese fleet like small white feathers
fluttering on the horizon.

"Come up on the bridge," the skipper advised. "Got a revolver handy?"

I showed him my loaded weapon.

"Right! I ain't much afraid of the Japs, but we may have trouble with
some of that all-sorts crew I've got below."

By and by the white plumes became bigger. All at once a ship lying
dark on the water, scarcely a mile away on the weather-bow, spat out
a long ribbon of light like an ant-eater's tongue, and we found
ourselves standing in a glare of light as if we were actors in the
middle of a stage.

There was a howl from below, and a mixed body of Lascars, headed by
one of the Germans, rushed toward the helm.

"Back, you milk-drinking swabs!" the skipper roared. "As I'm a living
man, the first one of you that lays a hand on the wheel, I'll fire
into the crowd.

"Hark ye here!" their commander said with rough eloquence. "In the
first place, it don't follow that because you can see a flashlight
the chap at t'other end can see you. Second place, no ship that does
see us is going to sink us without giving us a round of blank first,
by way of notice to heave to. Third place, if we do get a notice, I'm
going to stop this ship. And, fourth place, you've got five seconds
to decide whether you'd rather be taken into Yokohama by a prize crew
of Japs, or be shot where you stand by me and this gentleman."

The crew turned tail. Before five seconds had elapsed, not a head was
to be seen above decks, except that of the man at the helm, who
happened to be a Dane, to be first mate, and to be more than
three-parts drunk.

Needless to say the warning shot was not fired.

We steamed steadily on through the fleet, every vessel of which was
probably by this time aware of our presence. The search-lights
flashed and fell all around us, but not once did we have to face
again that blinking glare which tells the blockade runner that the
game is up.

But there was another peril in store on which we had not reckoned.
The sea all around Port Arthur had been strewn with Russian mines!

Unconscious of what was coming, we steamed gaily past the last
outlying torpedo-boat of Admiral Togo's squadron.

"Through!" cried my friend the skipper, pointing with a grin of
delight at the Port Arthur lights as they came into view around the
edge of a dark cliff.

And even as he looked and pointed, there was a terrific wave, a rush,
a flare and a report, and I felt myself lifted off my feet into
mid-air.

I fancy I must have been unconscious for a second or two while in the
air, for the splash of the sea as I struck it in falling seemed to
wake me up like a cold douche.

My first movement, on coming to the surface again, was to put my hand
to my neck to make sure of the safety of the precious locket which
had been placed there by my dear little countrywoman.

My second was to strike out for a big spar which I saw floating amid
a mass of tangled cordage and splinters a few yards in front of me.

Strange as it may seem, only when my arms were resting safely on the
spar, and I had time to look about me and take stock of the
situation, did I realize the extreme peril I had been in.

Most dangers and disasters are worse to read about than to go
through. Had any one warned me beforehand that I was going to be
blown up by a mine, I should probably have felt the keenest dread,
and conjured up all sorts of horrors. As it was, the whole adventure
was over in a twinkling, and by the greatest good luck I had escaped
without a scratch.

By this time the forts at the entrance to Port Arthur, attracted, no
doubt, by the noise of the explosion, were busily searching the spot
with their lights.

The effect was truly magnificent.

From the blackness of the heights surrounding the famous basin, fiery
sword after fiery sword seemed to leap forth and stab the sea. The
wondrous blades of light met and crossed one another as if some
great archangels were doing battle for the key of Asia.

The whole sea was lit up with a brightness greater than that of the
sun. Every floating piece of wreckage, every rope, every nail stood
out with unnatural clearness. I was obliged to close my eyes, and
protect them with my dripping hand.

Presently I heard a hail from behind me. I turned my head, and to my
delight saw the brave skipper of the lost ship swimming toward me.

In another dozen strokes he was alongside and clinging with me to the
same piece of wood, which he said was the main gaff.

He was rather badly gashed about the head, but not enough to threaten
serious consequences. So far as we could ascertain, the whole of the
crew had perished.

I confess that their fate did not cost me any very great pang, after
the first natural shock of horror had passed. They owed their death
to their own lack of courage, which had caused them to take refuge in
the lowest part of the ship, where the full force of the explosion
came. The captain and I, thanks to our position on the bridge, had
escaped with a comparatively mild shaking.

The steersman would have escaped also, in all probability, had he
been sober.

In a very short time after the captain had joined me, our eyes were
gladdened by the sight of a launch issuing from the fort to our
assistance.

The officer in charge had thoughtfully provided blankets and a flask
of wine. Thus comforted, I was not long in fully recovering my
strength, and by the time the launch had set us on shore my comrade
in misfortune was also able to walk without difficulty.

The lieutenant who had picked us up showed the greatest consideration
on learning that we had been blown up in an attempt to run a cargo of
coal for the benefit of the Russian fleet. On landing we were taken
before Admiral Makharoff, the brave man whom fate had marked out to
perish two months later by a closely similar catastrophe.

The story which I told to the Admiral was very nearly true, though of
course I suppressed the incidents which had taken place in Tokio.

I said that I had been charged to deliver a private communication
from the Czar to the Mikado, sent in the hope of averting war, that I
had arrived too late, and that, having to make my way back to
Petersburg, I had meant to do a stroke of business on the way on
behalf of his excellency.

My inspector's uniform, which I had resumed on leaving Yokohama,
confirmed my words, and Admiral Makharoff, after thanking me on
behalf of the navy for my zeal, dismissed me with a present of a
thousand rubles, and a permit to travel inland from Port Arthur.

Needless to say I did not forget to say good-by to my brave
Englishman, to whom I handed over the Russian Admiral's reward, thus
doubling the amount I had promised him for his plucky stand against
the mutineers.

I have hurried over these transactions, interesting as they were, in
order to come to the great struggle which lay before me in the
capital of Russia.




CHAPTER XV

THE ADVISER OF NICHOLAS II


By the second week in March I was back in Petersburg.

On the long journey across Asia, I had had time to mature my plans,
with the advantage of knowing that the real enemy I had to fight was
neither M. Petrovitch nor the witching Princess Y----, but the Power
which was using them both as its tools.

It was a frightful thing to know that two mighty peoples, the
Japanese and Russians, neither of which really wished to fight each
other, had been locked in strife in order to promote the sinister and
tortuous policy of Germany.

So far, the German Kaiser had accomplished one-half of his program.
The second, and more important, step would be to bring about a
collision between the Russians and the English.

Thus the situation resolved itself into an underground duel between
Wilhelm II. and myself, a duel in which the whole future history of
the world, and possibly the very existence of the British Empire,
hung in the balance.

And the arbiter was the melancholy young man who wandered through the
vast apartments of his palace at Tsarskoe-Selo like some distracted
ghost, wishing that any lot in life had been bestowed on him rather
than that of autocrat of half Europe and Asia.

It was to Nicholas that I first repaired, on my return, to report the
result of my mission.

I obtained a private audience without difficulty, and found his
majesty busily engaged in going through some papers relating to the
affairs of the Navy.

"So they have not killed you, like poor Menken," he said with a
mixture of sympathy and sadness.

"Colonel Menken killed!" I could not forbear exclaiming.

"Yes. Did you not hear of it? A Japanese spy succeeded in
assassinating him, and stealing the despatch, just before Mukden. A
lady-in-waiting attached to the Dowager Czaritza happened to be on
the train, and brought me the whole story."

I shook my head gravely.

"I fear your majesty has been misinformed. Colonel Menken committed
suicide. I saw him put the pistol to his head and shoot himself. His
last words were a message to your majesty."

The Czar raised his hand to his head with a despairing gesture.

"Will these contradictions never end!" he exclaimed. "Really, sir, I
hope you have made a mistake. Whom _can_ I trust!"

I drew myself up.

"I have no desire to press my version on you, sire," I said coldly.
"It is sufficient that the Colonel was robbed, and that he is dead.
Perhaps Princess Y---- has also given you an account of my own
adventures?"

Nicholas II. looked at me distrustfully.

"Let us leave the name of the Princess on one side," he said in a
tone of rebuke. "I have every reason to feel satisfied with her
loyalty and zeal."

I bowed, and remained silent.

"You failed to get through, I suppose," the Czar continued, after
waiting in vain for me to speak.

"I beg pardon, sire, I safely delivered to the Emperor of Japan your
majesty's autograph on the cigarette paper. I was robbed of the more
formal letter in the house of M. Petrovitch, before starting."

Nicholas frowned.

"Petrovitch again! Another of the few men whom I know to be my real
friends." He fidgeted impatiently.

"Well, what did the Mikado say?"

I had intended to soften the reply of the Japanese Emperor, but now,
being irritated, I gave it bluntly:

"His majesty professed to disbelieve in your power to control your
people. He declared that he could not treat a letter from you
seriously unless you were able to send it openly, without your
messengers being robbed or murdered on the way across your own
dominions."

The young Emperor flushed darkly.

"Insolent barbarian!" he cried hotly. "The next letter I send him
shall be delivered by the commander of my army on the soil of Japan."

I was secretly pleased by this flash of spirit, which raised my
respect for the Russian monarch.

A recollection seemed to strike him.

"I hear that you were blown up in attempting to bring some coal into
Port Arthur," he said in a more friendly tone. "I thank you, Monsieur
V----."

I bowed low.

"Some of my admirals seem to have been caught napping," Nicholas II.
added. "I have here a very serious report about Admiral Stark at
Vladivostok."

"You surprise me, sire," I observed incautiously. "Out in Manchuria I
heard the Admiral praised on all hands for his carefulness and good
conduct."

"Carefulness! It is possible to be too careful," the Czar complained.
"Admiral Stark is too much afraid of responsibility. We have
information that the English are taking all kinds of contraband into
the Japanese ports, and he does nothing to stop them, for fear of
committing some breach of international law."

I began to see what was coming. The Emperor, who seemed anxious to
justify himself, proceeded:

"The rights of neutrals have never been regarded by the British navy,
when they were at war. However, I have not been satisfied with taking
the opinion of our own jurists. I have here an opinion from Professor
Heldenberg of Berlin, who of course represents a neutral Power, and
he says distinctly that we are entitled to declare anything we
please contraband, and to seize English ships--I mean, ships of
neutrals--anywhere, even in the English Channel itself, and sink them
if it is inconvenient to bring them into a Russian port."

The insidious character of this advice was so glaring that I wondered
how the unfortunate young monarch could be deceived by it.

But I saw that comment would be useless just then. I must seek some
other means of opening his eyes to the pitfalls which were being
prepared for him.

I came from the Palace with a heavy heart. The next day, Petersburg
was startled by the publication of a ukase recalling Vice-Admiral
Stark and Rear-Admiral Molas, his second in command, from the
Pacific.

Immediately on hearing this news I sent a telegram in cipher to Lord
Bedale. For obvious reasons I never take copies of my secret
correspondence, but to the best of my recollection the wire ran as
follows:

      Germany instigating Russian Navy to raid your shipping on
      the pretext of contraband. Object to provoke reprisals
      leading to war.

As the reader is aware, this warning succeeded in defeating the
Kaiser's main design, the British Government steadily refusing to be
provoked.

Unfortunately this attitude of theirs played into German hands in
another way, as English shippers were practically obliged to refuse
goods for the Far East, and this important and lucrative trade passed
to Hamburg, to the serious injury of the British ports.

But before this development had been reached, I found myself on the
track of a far more deadly and dangerous intrigue, one which is
destined to live in history as the most audacious plot ever devised
by one great Power against another with which it proposed to be on
terms of perfect friendship.




CHAPTER XVI

A STRANGE CONFESSION


I had last seen the strange, beautiful, wicked woman known as the
Princess Y---- bending in a passion of hysterical remorse over the
body of the man she had driven to death, on the snow-clad train
outside Mukden.

I have had some experience of women, and especially of the class
which mixes in the secret politics of the European Courts. But Sophia
Y---- was an enigma to me. There was nothing about her which
suggested the adventuress. And there was much which tended to support
the story which had won the belief of her august mistress--that she
was an involuntary agent, who had been victimized by an unscrupulous
minister of police, by means of a false charge, and who genuinely
loathed the tasks she was too feeble to refuse.

I had not been back in Petersburg very long when one afternoon the
hotel waiter came to tell me that a lady desired to see me privately.
The lady, he added, declined to give her name, but declared that she
was well known to me.

I had come back to the hotel, I should mention, in the character of
Mr. Sterling, the self-appointed agent of the fraternity of British
peace-makers. It was necessary for me to have some excuse for
residing in Petersburg during the war, and under this convenient
shelter I could from time to time prepare more effectual disguises.

I was not altogether surprised when my mysterious visitor raised her
veil and disclosed the features of the Princess herself.

But I was both surprised and shocked by the frightened,
grief-stricken look on the face of this woman whom I had come to
dread as my most formidable opponent in the Russian Court.

"Mr. Sterling!--Monsieur V----?" she cried in an agitated voice that
seemed ready to break down into a sob. "Can you forgive me for
intruding on you? I dare not speak to you freely in my own house. I
am beset by spies."

"Sit down, Princess," I said soothingly, as I rolled forward a
comfortable chair. "Of course I am both charmed and flattered by your
visit, whatever be its cause."

With feminine intuition she marked the reserve in my response to her
appeal.

"Ah! You distrust me, and you are quite right!" she exclaimed,
casting herself into the chair.

She fixed her luminous eyes on me in a deep look, half-imploring,
half-reproachful.

"It is true, then, what they have been telling me? You were the man,
dressed as an inspector of the Third Section who traveled on the
train with me? And you saw the death"--her words were interrupted by
a shudder--"of that unhappy man?"

It was not very easy to preserve my composure in the face of her
emotion. Nevertheless, at the risk of appearing callous, I replied:

"I cannot pretend to understand your question. However, even if I did
it would make no difference.

"Since you know my name is A. V----, you must know also that I never
allow myself to talk about my work."

The Princess winced under these cold words almost as though she had
been physically rebuffed. She clasped her delicately-gloved hands
together, and murmured as though to herself:

"He will not believe in me! He will not be convinced!"

I felt myself in a very difficult position. Either this woman was
thoroughly repentant, and sincerely anxious to make some genuine
communication to me, or else she was an actress whose powers might
have excited envy in the Bernhardt herself.

I concluded that I could lose nothing by encouraging her to speak.

"You must pardon me if I seem distrustful," I said with a wholly
sympathetic expression. "I have my principles, and cannot depart from
them. But I have every wish to convince you of my personal
friendship."

She interrupted me with a terrible glance.

"Personal friendship! Monsieur, do you know what I have come here to
tell you?"

And rising wildly to her feet, she spread out her hands in a gesture
of utter despair:

"They have ordered me to take your life!"

I am not a man who is easily surprised.

The adventures I have passed through, some of them far more
extraordinary than anything I have recorded in my public revelations,
have accustomed me to meet almost any situation with diplomatic
presence of mind.

But on this occasion I am obliged to admit that I was fairly taken
aback.

As the lovely but dangerous woman whom I had cause to regard as the
most formidable instrument in the hands of the conspirators, avowed
to my face that she had been charged with the mission to assassinate
me, I sprang from my chair and confronted her.

She stood, swaying slightly, as though the intensity of her emotion
was about to overpower her.

"Do you mean what you say? Do you know what you have said?" I
demanded.

The Princess Y---- made no answer, but she lifted her violet eyes to
mine, and I saw the big tears welling up and beginning to overflow.

I was dismayed. My strength of mind seemed to desert me. I have
looked on without a tear when men have fallen dead at my feet, but I
have never been able to remain calm before a woman in tears.

"Madame! Princess!" I was on the point of addressing her by a yet
more familiar name. "At least, sit down and recover yourself."

Like one dazed, I led her to a chair. Like one dazed, she sank into
it in obedience to my authoritative pressure.

"Come," I said in a tone which I strove to render at once firm and
soothing, "it is clear that we must understand each other. You have
come here to tell me this, I suppose?"

"At the risk of my life," she breathed. "What must you think of me!"

I recalled the fate of poor Menken, whom the woman before me had led
to his doom, though she had not struck the blow.

In spite of myself, a momentary shudder went through me.

The sensitive woman saw or felt it, and shook in her turn.

"Believe me or not, as you will," she exclaimed desperately. "I
swear to you that I have never knowingly been guilty of taking life.

"Never for one moment did I anticipate that that poor man would do
what he did," the Princess went on with passionate earnestness. "I
tempted him to give me the Czar's letter, and I destroyed it--I
confess that. Are not such things done every day in secret politics?
Have you never intercepted a despatch?"

It was a suggestive question. I thought of more than one incident in
my own career which might be harshly received by a strict moralist.
It is true that I have always been engaged on what I believed was a
lawful task; but the due execution of that task had sometimes
involved actions which I should have shrunk from in private life.

"I will not excuse myself, Madame," I answered slowly. "Neither have
I accused you."

"Your tone is an accusation," she returned with a touch of
bitterness. "Oh, I know well that men are ready to pardon many things
in one another which they will not pardon in us."

"I am sorry if I have wounded you," I said with real compunction.
"Let us say no more about the tragedy that is past. Am I right in
thinking that you have come to me for aid?"

"I do not know. I do not know why I am here. Perhaps it is because I
am mad."

I gazed at her flushed face and trembling hands, unable to resist the
feeling of compassion which was creeping over me.

What was I to think? What was this woman's real purpose in coming to
me?

Had her employers, had the unscrupulous Petrovitch, or the ruthless
Minister of Police, indeed charged her to remove me from their path;
and had her courage broken down under the hideous burden?

Or was this merely a ruse to win my confidence; or, perhaps, to
frighten me into resigning my task and leaving the Russian capital?

Did she wish to save my life, or her own?

I sat regarding her, bewildered by these conjectures.

I saw that I must get her to say more.

"At least you have come to aid me," I protested. "You have given me a
warning for which I cannot be sufficiently grateful."

"If you believe it is a genuine one," she retorted. Already she had
divined my difficulties and doubts.

"I do not doubt that you mean it genuinely," I hastened to respond.
"There is, of course, the possibility that you yourself have been
deceived."

"Ah!"

She looked up at me in what I could not think was other than real
surprise.

"You think so?" she cried eagerly. The next moment her head drooped
again. "No, no. I have known them too long. They have never trifled
with me before. Believe me, Monsieur, when they told me that you were
to be murdered they were not joking with me."

"But they might have meant to use you for the purpose of terrifying
me."

She stared at me in unaffected astonishment.

"Terrify--_you_!" She pronounced the words with an emphasis not
altogether unflattering. "You are better known in Russia than you
imagine, M. V----."

I passed over the remark.

"Still they must have foreseen the possibility that you would shrink
from such a task; that your womanly instincts would prove too much
for you. At least they have never required such work of you before?"

Against my will the last words became a question. I was anxious to be
assured that the hands of the Princess were free from the stain of
blood.

"Never! They dared not! They _could_ not!" she cried indignantly.
"You do not know my history. Perhaps you do not care to know it?"

Whatever I knew or suspected, I could make only one answer to such an
appeal. Indeed, I was desirous to understand the meaning of one word
which the Princess Y---- had just used.

"Listen," she said, speaking with an energy and dignity which I could
not but respect, "while I tell you what I am. I am a condemned
murderess!"

"Impossible!"

"Impossible in any other country, I grant you, but very possible in
Russia. You have heard, I suppose, everybody has heard, of the deaths
of my husband and his children. The first two deaths were natural, I
swear it. I, at all events, had no more to do with them than if they
had occurred in the planet Saturn. Prince Y---- committed suicide.
And he did so because of me; I do not deny it. But it was not because
he suspected me of any hand in the deaths of his children. It was
because he knew I hated him!

"The story is almost too terrible to be told. That old man had bought
me. He bought me from my father, who was head over ears in debt, and
on the brink of ruin. I was sold--the only portion of his property
that remained to be sold. And from the first hour of the purchase I
hated, oh, how I loathed and hated that old man!"

There was a wild note in her voice that hinted at unutterable things.

"And he," she continued with a shiver, "he loved me, loved me with a
passion that was like madness. He could hardly bear me out of his
sight.

"I killed him, yes, morally, I have no doubt I killed him. He
lavished everything on me, jewels, wealth, all the forms of luxury.
He made a will leaving me the whole of his great fortune. But I could
not endure him, and that killed him. I think," she hesitated and
lowered her voice to a whisper, "I think he killed himself to please
me."

Hardened as I am, I felt a thrill of horror. The Princess was right;
the story was too terrible to be told.

"Then the police came on the scene. From the first they knew well
enough that I was innocent. But they were determined to make me
guilty. The head of the secret service at that time was Baron Kratz.
He had had his eye on me for some time. The Czar, believing in my
guilt, had ordered him not to spare me, and that fatal order gave him
a free hand.

"How he managed it all, I hardly know. The servants were bullied or
bribed into giving false evidence against me. But one part of their
evidence was true enough; even I could not deny that I had hated
Prince Y----, and that his death came as a welcome relief.

"There was a secret trial, and I was condemned. They read out my
sentence. And then, when it was all over, Kratz came to me, and
offered me life and liberty in return for my services as an agent of
the Third Section."

"And to save your life you consented. Well, I do not judge you," I
said.

The Princess glanced at me with a strange smile.

"To save my life! I see you do not yet know our Holy Russia. Shall I
tell you what my sentence was?"

"Was it not death, then?"

"Yes, death--by the knout!"

"My God!"

I gazed at her stupified. Her whole beauty seemed to be focussed in
one passionate protest. Knouted to death! I saw the form before me
stripped, and lashed to the triangles, while the knotted thong,
wielded by the hangman's hands, buried itself in the soft flesh.

I no longer disbelieved. I no longer even doubted. The very horror of
the story had the strength of truth.

For some time neither of us spoke.

"But now, surely, you have made up your mind to break lose from this
thraldom?" I demanded. "And, if so, and you will trust me, I will
undertake to save you."

"You forget, do you not, that you yourself are not free? You surely
do not mean that you would lay aside your work for my sake?"

It was a question which disconcerted me in more ways than one. In a
secret service agent, suspicion becomes second nature. I caught
myself asking whether all that had gone before was not merely
intended to lead up to this one question, and I cursed myself for
the doubt.

"My duty to my present employer comes first, of course," I admitted.
"But as soon as I am free again----"

"If you are still alive," she put in significantly.

"Ah! You mean?"

"I mean that when they find out that I am not to be depended on, they
will not have far to look for others."

"It is strange that they should have chosen you in the first place,"
I said thoughtfully. "You said they _could_ not ask you."

"They did not offer me this mission. I volunteered."

"You volunteered!"

She shook herself impatiently.

"Surely you understand? I heard them deciding on your death. And so I
undertook the task."

"Because?"

"Because I wished to save you. I had great difficulty. At first they
were inclined to refuse me--to suspect my motives. I had to convince
them that I hated you for having outwitted me. And I persuaded them
that none of their ordinary instruments were capable of dealing with
you."

"And you meant to give me this warning all along?"

"I meant to save you from them. Do you not see, as long as we are
together, as long as you are visiting me, and I am seen to be
following you up, they will not interfere. If I manage the affair
skilfully it may be weeks before they suspect that I am playing them
false. I shall have my excuse ready. It is no disgrace to be foiled
by A. V."

Again there was an interval of silence. The Princess prepared to go.

"Stay!" I protested. "I have not thanked you. Indeed, I do not seem
to have heard all. You had some reason, surely, for wishing to
preserve my life."

"And what does my reason matter?"

"It matters very much to me. Perhaps," I gave her a searching look,
"perhaps the Dowager Czaritza has enlisted you on our side?"

The beautiful woman rose to her feet, and turned her face from me.

"Think so, if you will. I tell you it does not matter."

"And I tell you it does matter. Princess!"

"Don't! Don't speak to me, please! Let me go home. I am not well."

Trembling violently in every limb, she was making her way toward the
door, when it was suddenly flung open, and the voice of the hotel
servant announced:

"M. Petrovitch!"

The head of the Manchurian Syndicate walked in with a smile on his
face, saw the Princess Y---- coming toward him, and stopped short,
the smile changing to a dark frown.




CHAPTER XVII

A SUPERNATURAL INCIDENT


Whether because he saw that I was watching him, or because he placed
his own interpretation on the circumstances, the war plotter changed
his frown into a smile.

"I am glad to see, Princess," he said to the trembling woman, "that
you have so soon found our good friend Mr. Sterling again."

The Princess Y---- gave him a glance which seemed to enjoin silence,
bowed with grace, and left the room in charge of the servant who had
announced M. Petrovitch.

The latter now advanced to greet me with every appearance of
cordiality.

The last time I had met this well-dressed, delicate scamp, he had
drugged and robbed me. Now I had just been told that he was setting
assassins on my track.

But it is my rule always to cultivate friendly intercourse with my
opponents. Few men can talk for long without exposing something of
their inner thoughts. I wanted M. Petrovitch to talk.

Therefore I returned his greeting with equal cordiality, and made him
sit down in the chair from which the Princess Y---- had just risen.

"You will be surprised to hear, no doubt, Mr. Sterling, that I have
brought you an invitation from the Emperor."

"From what Emperor?" was the retort on the tip of my tongue.
Fortunately I suppressed it; there is no accomplishment so fatal to
success in life as wit, except kindness.

I simply answered,

"I am not readily surprised, M. Petrovitch. Neither, I imagine, are
you."

The financier smiled.

"May I call you M. V----?" he asked. "His majesty has told me who you
are."

"Were you surprised by that?" I returned with sarcasm.

Petrovitch fairly laughed.

"I hear you have been denouncing me to Nicholas," he said lightly.
"Can't I persuade you to let our poor little Czar alone. I assure you
it is a waste of breath on your part, and you will only worry a
well-meaning young man who has no head for business."

This was plain speaking. It argued no ordinary confidence on the part
of the intriguer to speak in such a fashion of the Autocrat of All
the Russias.

Already the interview was telling me something. Petrovitch must have
some strong, secret hold on Nicholas II.

I shrugged my shoulders as I answered in my friendliest manner,

"I have no personal feeling against you, my dear Petrovitch. But to
use drugs--come, you must admit that that was a strong measure!"

"I apologize!" laughed the Russian. "All the more as I find you were
too many for us after all. I would give something to know how you
managed to hide the letter you got through."

It was my turn to laugh. I had reason to feel satisfied. Weak as the
Russian Emperor might be, it was evident that he had not betrayed my
secret.

"Well, now," the promoter resumed, "all that being over, is there any
reason why we should not be friends? Be frank with me. What end have
you in view that is likely to bring us into collision?"

"There is no reason why I should not be frank with you," I answered,
racking my brain for some story which the man before me might be
likely to believe, "especially as I do not suppose that either of us
is likely to report this conversation quite faithfully to his
imperial majesty. I am a Japanese spy."

Petrovitch gave me a glance in which I thought I detected a mingling
of incredulity and admiration.

"Really, you are a cool hand, my dear V----!"

"Why, is there anything in that to make us enemies? You are not going
to pose as the zealous patriot, I hope. I thought we had agreed to be
frank."

The financier bit his lip.

"Well, I do not deny that I am before all things a man of business,"
he returned. "If your friends the Japanese can make me any better
offer than the one I have had from another quarter, I do not say."

"I will see what I can arrange for you," I answered, not wholly
insincerely. "In the meantime, I think you said something about an
invitation?"

"Oh, yes, from Nicholas. He wants to see you. He has some scheme or
other in which he thinks that you and I can work together, and he
wants us to be friends, accordingly."

"But we are friends, after to-day, I understand?"

"It is as you please, my dear V----," replied the conspirator with a
slightly baffled air. "You have made a good beginning, apparently,
with the Princess Y----."

I put on the self-satisfied air of the man who is a favorite with
women.

"The Princess has been extremely kind," I said. "She has pressed me
to visit her frequently. Oh, yes, I think I may say we are good
friends."

Petrovitch nodded. I had purposely prepared his mind for the story
which I anticipated he would hear from my beautiful protector.
Evidently it would be necessary for her to tell the Syndicate that
she was feigning affection for me in order to draw me into a trap.

"Then, as my carriage is outside, may I take you to the Winter
Palace?"

"That seems the best plan," I acquiesced. "It will convince the Czar
that we are on good terms."

We drove off together, sitting side by side like two sworn friends. I
do not know what thoughts passed through his mind; but I know that
all the way I kept my right hand on the stock of my revolver, and
once, when one of the horses stumbled, M. Petrovitch was within an
instant of death.

At the Palace he put me down and drove off. I was admitted to the
Czar's presence without difficulty, and found him, as usual,
surrounded by piles of state papers.

Nicholas II. looked up at my entrance with evident pleasure.

"Ah, that is right, M. V----. I hope that, since you have come so
promptly in response to the message I gave that worthy M. Petrovitch,
you and he are now good friends."

I could only bow silently. I was a Japanese, related to the sovereign
with whom he was at war, and I was acting in the service of Great
Britain. Petrovitch had just forced on the war which Nicholas had
wished to avert, and he was still acting secretly in the interests
of Germany. And the Czar was congratulating himself that we were
friends. It was useless to try to undeceive him.

"Sit down, if you please, M. V----. I have something of the greatest
importance to tell you. Stay--Perhaps you will be good enough to see
first that the doors are all secured. I dislike interruptions."

I went to the various entrances of the room, of which there were
three, and turned the keys in the doors.

"Even M. Petrovitch does not know what I am going to tell you,"
Nicholas said impressively as I returned to my seat.

"Your majesty does not trust him entirely, then?" I exclaimed, much
pleased.

"You mistake me. I do not distrust M. Petrovitch; but this is a
matter of foreign politics, with which he is not familiar. He admits
frankly that he knows nothing about diplomacy."

I gazed at the benevolent young monarch in consternation. It was the
spy of Wilhelm II., the agent of the most active diplomatist in the
world, of whom he had just spoken!

There was no more to be said.

The Emperor proceeded to put a most unexpected question.

"Are you a believer in spirits, M. V----?"

"I am a Roman Catholic, sire. Whatever my Church teaches on this
subject, I believe. I am rather neglectful of my religious duties,
however, and do not know its attitude on this subject."

"I honor your loyalty to your communion, M. V----. But as long as you
do not know what is the attitude of your Church on this subject, you
cannot feel it wrong to listen to me."

I perceived that if his majesty was no politician, he was at least
something of a theologian.

The Czar proceeded:

"There is in Petersburg one of the most marvelous mediums and
clairvoyants who has ever lived. He is a Frenchman named Auguste. He
came here nearly a year ago--just when the difficulty with Japan was
beginning, in fact; and he has given me the most valuable information
about the progress of events. Everything he has foretold has come
true, so far. He warned me from the first that the Japanese would
force me into war, just as they have done. In short, I feel I can
rely on him absolutely."

This was not the first time I had heard of the spiritualist who had
established such an extraordinary hold on the Russian ruler's mind.
The common impression was that he was a mystic, a sort of Madame
Krüdener. At the worst he was regarded as a charlatan of the ordinary
spirit-rapping type, cultivating the occult as a means of making
money.

But now, as I listened to the credulous monarch, it suddenly struck
me what an invaluable tool such a man might prove in the hands of a
political faction, or even of a foreign Power astute enough to
corrupt him and inspire the oracles delivered by the spirits.

I listened anxiously for more.

The Emperor, evidently pleased with the serious expression on my
face, went on to enlighten me.

"Last night M. Auguste was here, in this room, and we held a private
_séance_. He succeeded in getting his favorite spirit to respond."

"Is it permissible to ask the spirit's name?" I ventured
respectfully.

"It is Madame Blavatsky," he answered. "You must have heard of her,
of course. She was practically the founder of rational psychical
knowledge, though she died a victim to persecution."

I nodded. I had heard of this celebrated woman, who still numbers
many followers in different parts of the world.

"Last night, as soon as we found that the spirit of Madame Blavatsky
was present, I asked Auguste to question it about the Baltic fleet.

"I had been holding a preliminary review of the fleet in the morning,
as you may have seen from the papers. The officers and men seemed
thoroughly nervous, and very doubtful whether it would ever be in a
condition to sail. Even the Admiral, Rojestvensky, did not seem
quite happy, and he found great fault with the stores and equipments.

"I had to authorize a delay of another month, and the Marine
Department would not promise to have the fleet ready even then.

"Naturally, I wished to know what would become of the fleet when it
did sail. Auguste questioned the spirit."

His majesty broke off to feel in his pocket for a small slip of
paper.

"I took down the answer myself, as the spirit rapped it out." And he
read aloud:

      Baltic Fleet threatened. Japanese and English plotting to
      destroy it on the way to Port Arthur.

I started indignantly.

"And you believe that, sire! You believe that the British Government,
which has been straining every nerve to maintain peace, is capable of
planning some secret outrage against your Navy?"

"It does not say the Government," he announced with satisfaction.
"The spirit only warns me against the English. Private Englishmen are
capable of anything. At this very moment, two Englishmen are
arranging to run a torpedo boat secretly out of the Thames, disguised
as a yacht, and to bring her to Libau for us."

This piece of information silenced me. It was no doubt possible that
there might be Englishmen daring enough to assist the Japanese in
some secret enterprise against a Russian fleet. But I felt I should
like to have some better authority for the fact than the word of
Madame Blavatsky's spirit.

"The warning is a very vague one, sire," I hinted.

"True. But I hope to receive a more definite message to-morrow night.
I was going to ask you if you would have any objection to be present.
You might then be able to put pressure on the British Government to
prevent this crime."

Needless to say I accepted the imperial invitation with eagerness.

And I retired to send the following despatch to Lord Bedale:

      When Baltic Fleet starts prepare for trouble. Have all
      ports watched. It is believed here that attack on it is
      preparing in England.




CHAPTER XVIII

THE MYSTERY OF A WOMAN


Who was M. Auguste?

This was the question that kept my mind busy after my singular
interview with the Russian Emperor.

In accordance with my rule to avoid as much as possible mentioning
the names of the humbler actors in the international drama, I have
given the notorious medium a name which conceals his true one.

He appeared to be a foreigner, and the Czar's weakness in this
direction was too well known for his patronage of the quack to excite
much attention; apparently it had occurred to no one but myself that
such a man might be capable of meddling in politics.

In his more public performances, so far as I could learn, the
revelations of the spirits were confined to more harmless topics,
such as the nature of the future state, or the prospect of an heir
being born to the Russian crown.

In my quest for further light on this remarkable personage, my
thoughts naturally turned to the Princess Y----.

I have not concealed that at our first meeting the charming
collaborator of M. Petrovitch had made a very strong impression on
me. Her subsequent conduct had made me set a guard on myself, and the
memory of the Japanese maiden whose portrait had become my cherished
"mascot," of course insured that my regard for the Princess could
never pass the bounds of platonic friendship.

But the strange scene of the day before had moved me profoundly.
Vanity is not a failing of which I am ever likely to be accused by my
worst detractor, yet it was impossible for me to shut my eyes or ears
to the confession which had been made with equal eloquence by the
looks, the blushes and even the words of the beautiful Russian.

Was ever situation more stupid in all the elements of tragedy! This
unhappy woman, spurred to all kinds of desperate deeds by the awful
fear of the knout, had been overcome by that fatal power which has
wrecked so many careers.

In the full tide of success, in the very midst of a life and death
combat with the man it was her business to outwit and defeat, she had
succumbed to love for him.

And now, to render her painful situation tenfold more painful, she
was holding the dagger at his breast as the only means of keeping it
out of the clutch of some more murderous hand.

Had I the pen of a romancer I might enlarge on this sensational
theme. But I am a man of action, whose business it is to record
facts, not to comment on them.

I sought the mansion on the Nevsky Prospect, and asked to see its
mistress.

Evidently the visit was expected. The groom of the chambers--if that
was his proper description--led me up-stairs, and into a charming
boudoir.

A fire replenished by logs of sandalwood was burning in a malachite
stove, and diffusing a dream-like fragrance through the chamber. The
walls of the room were panelled in ivory, and the curtains that hung
across the window frames were of embroidered silk and gold. Each
separate chair and toy-like table was a work of art--ebony, cinnamon,
and other rare and curious woods having been employed.

But the rarest treasure there was the mistress of all this luxury.
The inmate of the sumptuous prison, for such it truly was, lay back
on a leopard-skin couch, set in the frame of a great silver
sea-shell.

She had dressed for my coming in the quaint but gorgeous costume of
ancient Russia, the costume worn by imperial usage at high State
functions like coronations, weddings and christenings.

The high coif above her forehead flamed with jewels, and big, sleepy
pearls slid and fell over her neck and bosom.

At my entrance she gave a soft cry, and raised herself on one white
arm. I stepped forward as though I were a courtier saluting a queen,
and pressed my lips to her extended hand.

"I expected you, Andreas."

Only two women in my life have I ever allowed to call me by my
Christian name. One was the ill-starred lady who perished in the
Konak in Belgrade. The other--but of her I may not speak.

But it was not for me to stand on ceremony with the woman who had
interposed herself as a shield between me and the enemies who sought
my death.

"You knew that I should come to thank you," I said.

"I do not wish for thanks," she answered, with a look that was more
expressive than words. "I wish only that you should regard me as a
friend."

"And in what other light is it possible for me to regard you, dear
Princess?" I returned. "Only this friendship must not be all on one
side. You, too, must consent to think of me as something more than a
stranger whose life you have saved."

"Can you doubt that I have done so for a long time?"

It needed the pressure of the locket against my neck to keep me from
replying to this tenderly-spoken sentiment in a way which might have
led to consequences, for the Russian Empire as well as for the
Princess and myself, very different to those which have actually
flowed from our conjunction.

Conquering my impulses as I best could, I sought for a reply which
would not wear the appearance of a repulse.

"You misunderstand me," I said, putting on an expression of pride.
"You little know the character of Andreas V---- if you think he can
accept the humiliating position of the man who is under obligation to
a woman--an obligation which he has done nothing to discharge. Not
until I can tell myself that I have done something to place me on a
higher level in your eyes, can my thoughts concerning you be happy
ones."

A shade of disappointment passed over Sophia's face. She made a
pettish gesture.

"Does not--friendship do away with all sense of obligation?" she
complained.

"Not with me," I answered firmly. "No, Sophia, if you really care for
me--for my friendship­-you must let me do what I have sworn to do
ever since I first saw you and heard some rumors of your tragic
story."

"You mean?"

"You must let me break your odious bondage. I can deliver you, if you
will only trust me, from the power of the Russian police, or any
other power, and set you free to live the life of fascination and
happiness which ought to be yours."

The Princess seemed plunged in meditation. At length she looked
up----

"You would undertake a hopeless task, my dear Andreas. Not even you
can fathom all the ramifications of the intrigues in which I find
myself an indispensable puppet. Those who control my movements will
never let go the strings by which they hold me, and least of all,
just now."

I was distressed to see that the Princess was disposed to evade my
appeal for confidence. I answered with a slightly wounded air:

"I may know more than you think, more even than you know yourself on
certain points. But of course you are not willing to confide in me
fully----"

"There can be no perfect trust without perfect"--The Princess, who
spoke this sentence in Russian, concluded it with a word which may
mean either friendship or love according to circumstances. As she
pronounced it, it seemed like love.

"There can be no perfect love without perfect trust," I responded
quickly, striving to assume the manner of an exacting lover.

And then, a happy thought striking me, I added in an aggrieved voice,

"Do you think it is nothing to me that you should be associated with
other men in the most secret enterprises, holding private conferences
with them, receiving them in your house, perhaps visiting them in
theirs; that you should appear to be on intimate terms with the
Grand Duke Staniolanus, with M. Petrovitch, with a man like this M.
Auguste----"

At the sound of this last name, to which I had artfully led up,
Sophia sprang into a sitting posture and gave me a look of anger and
fear.

"Who told you anything about M. Auguste?" she demanded in hoarse
tones. "What has he to do with me?"

"Nay, it is not you who ought to ask me that," I returned. "You may
be a believer in his conjuring tricks, for aught I know. He may be
more to you than a comrade, or even a prophet--more to you than I."

"Who told you that he was my comrade, as you call it?" the Princess
insisted, refusing to be diverted from her point.

"No one," I said quite truthfully. "I should be glad to know that he
was only that. But it is natural for me to feel some jealousy of all
your friends."

The Princess appeared relieved by this admission. But this relief
confirmed all my suspicions. I now felt certain that the medium was
an important figure in the plot which I was trying to defeat. I saw,
moreover, that however genuine my beautiful friend might be in her
love for me and her desire to save my life, she had no intention of
betraying the secrets of her fellow conspirators.

Her character presented an enigma almost impossible to solve. Perhaps
it is not the part of a wise man ever to try to understand a woman.
Her motives must always be mysterious, even to herself. It is
sufficient if one can learn to forecast her actions, and even that is
seldom possible.

"Then you refuse my help?" I asked reproachfully.

"You cannot help me," was the answer. "At least, that is, unless you
possess some power I have no idea of at present."

It was an ingenious turning of the tables. Instead of my questioning
the Princess, she was questioning me, in effect.

I made what was perhaps a rash admission.

"I am not wholly powerless, at all events. There are few sovereigns
in Europe whom I have not obliged at some time or other. Even the
German Emperor, though I have more than once crossed his path in
public matters, is my personal friend. In spite of his occasional
political errors, he is a stainless gentleman in private life, and I
am sure he would hear with horror of your position and the means by
which you had been forced into it."

Sophia looked at me with an expression of innocent bewilderment which
I could scarcely believe to be real.

"The German Emperor! But what has he to do with me?"

"He is said to have some influence with the Czar," I said drily.

My companion bit her lip.

"Oh, the Czar!" Her tone was scathing in its mixture of pity and
indifference. "Every one has some influence with the Czar. But is
there any one with whom Nicholas has influence?"

It was the severest thing I had ever heard said of the man whom an
ironical fate has made master of the Old World.

Suddenly the manner of the Princess underwent a sudden change.

She rose to her feet and gave me a penetrating glance, a glance which
revealed for the first time something of that commanding personality
which had made this slight, exquisite creature for years one of the
most able and successful of secret negotiators, and a person to be
reckoned with by every foreign minister.

"You do not trust me, Andreas V----. It is natural. You do not love
me. It is possible that it is my fault. But I have sworn to save your
life, and I will do it in your own despite. In order that I may
succeed, I will forget that I am a woman, and I will forget that you
regard me as a criminal. Come here! I will show you into my oratory,
into which not even my confidential maid is ever allowed to
penetrate. Perhaps what you will see there may convince you that I
am neither a traitor nor a Delilah."

With the proud step of an empress, she led the way into the adjoining
room, which was a bedroom sumptuously enriched with everything that
could allure the senses. The very curtains of the bed seemed to
breathe out languorous odors, the walls were hung with ravishing
groups of figures that might have come from a Pompeiian temple, the
dressing-table was rich with gold and gems.

Without pausing for an instant the mistress of the chamber walked
straight across it to a narrow door let into the farther wall, and
secured by a tiny lock like that of a safe.

Drawing a small key from her bosom, the Princess inserted it in the
lock, leaving me to follow in a state of the most intense
expectation.

The apartment in which I found myself was a narrow, white-washed cell
like a prison, lit only by the flames of two tall wax candles which
stood on a table, or rather an altar, at the far end.

Besides the altar, the sole object in the room was a wooden step in
front of it. Over the altar, in accordance with the rule of the Greek
Church, there hung a sacred picture. And below, between the two
candlesticks, there rested two objects, the sight of which fairly
took away my breath.

One was a photograph frame containing a portrait of myself--how
obtained I shall never know. The portrait was framed with
immortelles, the emblems of death, and the artist had given my face
the ghastly pallor and rigidity of the face of a corpse.

The other object on the altar was a small whip of knotted leather
thongs.

Without uttering a word, without even turning her head to see if I
had followed, the Princess Y---- knelt down on the step, stripped
her shoulders with a singular determined gesture, and then, taking
the knout in one hand, began to scourge the bare flesh.




CHAPTER XIX

THE SPIRIT OF MADAME BLAVATSKY


At the hour appointed by the Czar I presented myself at the Winter
Palace to assist at the spiritualist experiments of M. Auguste.

I shall not attempt to describe the impression left by the weird
scene in the Princess Y----'s oratory.

To those who do not know the Slav temperament, with its strange
mixture of sensuality and devotion, of barbarous cruelty and
over-civilized cunning, seldom far removed from the brink of
insanity, the incident I have recorded will appear incredible. I have
narrated it, simply because I have undertaken to narrate everything
bearing on the business in which I was engaged. I am well aware that
truth is stranger than fiction, and I should have little difficulty,
if I were so disposed, in framing a story, full of plausible,
commonplace incidents, which no one could doubt or dispute.

I have preferred to take a bolder course, knowing that although I may
be discredited for a time, yet when historians in the future come to
sift the secret records of the age, I shall be amply vindicated.

I shall only add that I did not linger a moment after the unhappy
woman had begun her penance, if such it was, but withdrew from her
presence and from the house without speaking a word.

The feelings with which I anticipated my encounter with the medium
were very different. Whatever might be my doubts with regard to the
unfortunate Sophia--and I honestly began to think that the suicide of
Menken had affected her brain--I had no doubt whatever that M.
Auguste was a thoroughly unscrupulous man.

The imperial servant to whom I was handed over at the entrance to the
Czar's private apartments conducted me to what I imagine to have been
the boudoir of the Czaritza, or at all events the family sitting
room.

It was comfortably but plainly furnished in the English style, and
was just such a room as one might find in the house of a London
citizen, or a small country squire. I noticed that the wall-paper was
faded, and the hearth-rug really worn out.

The Emperor of All the Russias was not alone. Seated beside him in
front of the English grate was the beautiful young Empress, in whose
society he finds a refuge from his greedy courtiers and often
unscrupulous ministers, and who, I may add, has skilfully and
successfully kept out of any entanglement in politics.

Rising at my entrance, Nicholas II. advanced and shook me by the
hand.

"In this room," he told me, "there are no emperors and no empresses,
only Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas."

He presented me to the Czaritza, who received me in the same style of
simple friendliness, and then, pointing to a money-box which formed a
conspicuous object on the mantel-shelf, he added:

"For every time the word 'majesty' is used in this room there is a
fine of one ruble, which goes to our sick and wounded. So be careful,
M. V----."

In spite of this warning I did not fail to make a good many
contributions to the money-box in the course of the evening. In my
intercourse with royalty I model myself on the British Premier
Beaconsfield, and I regard my rubles as well spent.

We all three spoke in English till the arrival of M. Auguste, who
knew only French and a few words of Russian. I remarked afterward
that the spirit of Madame Blavatsky, a Russian by birth, who had
spent half her life in England, appeared to have lost the use of both
languages in the other world, and communicated with us exclusively in
French.

The appearance of M. Auguste did not help to overcome my prejudice
against him. He had too evidently made up for the part of the mystic.

The hair of M. Auguste was black and long, his eyes rolled much in
their sockets, and his costume was a compromise between the frock
coat and the cassock.

But it was above all his manner that impressed me disagreeably. He
affected to be continually falling into fits of abstraction, as if
his communings with the spirits were diverting his attention from the
affairs of earth. Even on his entrance he went through the forms of
greeting his host and hostess as though scarcely conscious of their
presence. I caught a sly look turned on myself, however, and when I
was presented to him as "Mr. Sterling" his reception of the name made
me think that he had expected something else.

The Czar having explained that I was a friend interested in
spiritualism, in whose presence he wished to hear again from Madame
Blavatsky, M. Auguste rolled his eyes formidably, and agreed to
summon the departed theosophist.

A small round table was cleared of the Czaritza's work-basket--she
had been knitting a soldier's comforter--and we took our seats around
it. The electric light was switched off, so that we were in perfect
darkness, except for the red glow of the coal fire.

A quarter of an hour or so passed in a solemn silence, broken only
by occasional whispers from "Mr. Nicholas" or the medium.

"It is a long time answering," the Czar whispered at last.

"I fear there is a hostile influence," M. Auguste responded in the
jargon of his craft.

Hardly had the words left his lips when a perfect shower of raps
seemed to descend on all parts of the table at once.

Let me say here, once for all, that I am not prepared to offer any
explanation of what happened on this occasion. I have read of some of
the devices by which such illusions are produced, and I have no doubt
a practised conjurer could have very easily fathomed the secrets of
M. Auguste. But I had not come there with any intention of detecting
or exposing him.

The medium pretended to address the author of the raps.

"If there is any hostile influence which prevents your communicating
with us, rap twice."

Two tremendous raps nearly drowned the last word. The spirit seemed
to be quick-tempered.

"If it is a woman, rap once----"

No response. This was decidedly clever.

"If it is myself, rap."

This time, instead of silence, there was a faint scratching under the
surface of the table.

"The negative sign," M. Auguste explained blandly, for our benefit.

Then, addressing himself once more to the invisible member of the
party, he inquired:

"If it is Mr. Nicholas, rap."

Silence.

"You must excuse me," the medium said, turning his face in my
direction. "If it is Mr. Sterling----"

A shower of raps. I really thought the table would have given way.

This was discouraging. The Czar came to my rescue, however.

"I particularly wish Mr. Sterling to be present," he observed with a
touch of displeasure--whether intended for M. Auguste or the
spiritual visitant I could not tell.

The hierophant no doubt saw that he must submit. His retreat was
executed with great skill.

"If the obstacle is one that can be removed, rap once."

A rap.

"Can you spell it for us?"

In the rather cumbrous alphabet in use among the shades, the visitor
spelled out in French:

"_Son nom._"

"Is there something you object to about his name?"

A rap.

"Is it an assumed name?"

A very loud rap. Decidedly the spirit was indignant.

"Can you tell us his real name? His initials will do?"

"A. V." spelled the unseen visitor.

"Is that right?" M. Auguste inquired with well-assumed curiosity.

"It is marvelous!" ejaculated the Emperor. "You will understand, of
course, Auguste, that this must be kept a secret among ourselves."

"Ask if it is Madame Blavatsky," said the Czar.

We learned that the apostle of theosophy was indeed present.

"Would you like to hear from any other spirits?" M. Auguste asked the
company.

"I should be glad of a word with Bismarck," I suggested.

In five minutes the Iron Chancellor announced himself. His rap was
sharp, quick and decided, quite a characteristic rap.

"Ask if he approves of the present policy of the German Emperor?"

A hearty rap. Evidently the spirit had greatly changed its views in
the other world.

"Ask if he remembers telling me, the last time I saw him, that Russia
was smothering Germany in bed?"

"Do you refuse to answer that question?" M. Auguste put in adroitly.

An expressive rap.

"Will you answer any other questions from this gentleman?"

Then the spirit of Bismarck spoke out. It denounced me as a worker of
evil, a source of strife, and particularly as one who was acting
injuriously to the Russian Empire. I confess M. Auguste scored.

"In his lifetime he would have said all that, if he had thought I was
working in the interest of Russia and against Germany," I remarked in
my own defence.

The spirit of the Iron Chancellor was dismissed, and that of Madame
Blavatsky recalled.

It was evident that the Czar placed particular confidence in his late
subject. Indeed, if the issues at stake had been less serious, I
think I should have made an attempt to shake the Emperor's blind
faith in the performances of M. Auguste.

But my sole object was to read, if I could, the secret plans and
intentions of a very different imperial character, whose agent I
believed the spirit to be.

M. Auguste, I quickly discovered, was distracted between fear of
offending Nicholas by too much reserve, and dread of enabling me to
see his game. In the end the Czar's persistence triumphed, and we
obtained something like a revelation.

"Tell us what you can see, that it concerns the Emperor to know," M.
Auguste had adjured his familiar.

"I see"--the reply was rapped out with irritating slowness--I quite
longed for a slate--"an English dockyard. The workmen are secretly at
work by night, with muffled hammers. They are building a torpedo
boat. It is to the order of the Japanese Government. The English
police have received secret instructions from the Minister of the
Interior not to interfere."

"Minister of the Interior" was a blunder. With my knowledge of
English politics I am able to say that the correct title of this
personage should be "Secretary of State for the Domestic Department."
But few foreigners except myself have been able to master the
intricacies of the British Constitution.

"For what is this torpedo boat designed?" M. Auguste inquired.

"It is for service against the Baltic Fleet. The Russian sailors are
the bravest in the world, but they are too honest to be a match for
the heathen Japanese," the spirit pursued, with some inconsistency.

I could not help reflecting that Madame Blavatsky in her lifetime had
professed the Buddhist faith, which is that of the majority in Japan.

"Do you see anything else?"

"I see other dockyards where the same work is being carried on. A
whole fleet of warships is being prepared by the perfidious British
for use against the fleet of Russia."

"Ask her to cast her eye over the German dockyards," I put in.

"Spirits have no sex," M. Auguste corrected severely. "I will ask
it."

A succession of raps conveyed the information that Germany was
preserving a perfectly correct course, as usual. Her sole departure
from the attitude of strict neutrality was to permit certain pilots,
familiar with the North Sea navigation, to offer their services to
the Russian fleet.

"Glance into the future," said the Czar. "Tell us what you see about
to happen."

"I see the Baltic Fleet setting out. The Admiral has issued the
strictest orders to neutral shipping to retire to their harbors and
leave the sea clear for the warships of Russia. He has threatened to
sink any neutral ship that comes within range of his guns.

"As long as he is in the Baltic these orders are obeyed. The German,
Swedish and Danish flags are lowered at his approach, as is right.

"Now he passes out into the North Sea. The haughty and hostile
English defy his commands. Their merchant ships go forth as usual.
Presuming on their knowledge of international law, they annoy and
vex the Russian warships by sailing past them. The blood of the brave
Russian officers begins to boil. Ask me no more."

M. Auguste, prompted by the deeply interested Czar, did ask more.

"I see," the obedient seeress resumed, "torpedo boats secretly
creeping out from the British ports. They do not openly fly the
Japanese flag, but lurk among the English ships, with the connivance
of the treacherous islanders.

"The Baltic Fleet approaches. The torpedo boats, skulking behind the
shelter of their friends, steal closer to the Russian ships. Then the
brave Russian Admiral remembers his promise. Just in time to save his
fleet from destruction, he signals to the British to retire.

"They obstinately refuse. The Russian fleet opens fire.

"I can see no more."

The spirit of the seeress, it will be observed, broke off its
revelations at the most interesting point, with the skill of a
practised writer of serials.

But the Czar, fairly carried away by excitement, insisted on knowing
more.

"Ask the spirit if there will be any foreign complications," he said.

I had already remarked that our invisible companion showed a good
deal of deference to the wishes of Nicholas II., perhaps in his
character of Head of the Orthodox Church.

After a little hesitation it rapped out:

"The English are angry, but they are restrained by the fear of
Germany. The German Michael casts his shield in front of Russia, and
the islanders are cowed. I cannot see all that follows. But in the
end I see that the Yellow Peril is averted by the joint action of
Russia and Germany."

This answer confirmed to the full my suspicions regarding the source
of M. Auguste's inspiration. I believed firmly that there was a
spirit present, but it was not the spirit of the deceased
theosophist, rather of a monarch who is very much alive.

The medium now professed to feel exhausted, and Madame Blavatsky was
permitted to retire.

I rose to accompany M. Auguste as soon as he made a move to retire.

"If you will let me drive you as far as my hotel," I said to him, "I
think I can show you something which will repay you for coming with
me."

The wizard looked me in the face for the first time, as he said
deliberately:

"I shall be very pleased to come."




CHAPTER XX

THE DEVIL'S AUCTION


I said as little as possible during the drive homeward.

My companion was equally silent. No doubt he, like myself, was
bracing himself for a duel of wits.

As soon as we were safe in my private room at the hotel, with a
bottle of vodka and a box of cigars in front of us, I opened the
discussion with my habitual directness.

"I need not tell you, M. Auguste, that I have not invited you here to
discuss questions of psychology. I am a politician, and it matters
nothing to me whether I am dealing with a ghost or a man, provided I
can make myself understood."

M. Auguste bowed.

"For instance, it is quite clear that the interesting revelations we
have had to-night would not have been made without your good will. It
is to be presumed, therefore, that if I can convince you that it is
better to turn the Emperor's mind in another direction, you will
refuse to make yourself the medium of further communications of that
precise character."

M. Auguste gave me an intelligent glance.

"I am as you have just said, a _medium_," he replied with significant
emphasis. "As such, I need not tell you, I have no personal interest
in the communications which are made through me."

I nodded, and took out my pocket-book, from which I extracted a
hundred ruble-note (about $75).

"I promised to show you something interesting," I remarked, as I laid
it on the table.

M. Auguste turned his head, and his lip curled slightly.

"I am afraid my sight is not very good," he said negligently. "Is not
that object rather small?"

"It is merely a specimen," I responded, counting out nine others, and
laying them beside the first.

"Ah, now I fancy I can see what you are showing me," he admitted.

"There is a history attached to these notes," I explained. "They
represent the amount of a bet which I have just won."

"Really! That is most interesting."

"I now have another bet of similar nature pending, which I hope also
to be able to win."

"I am tempted to wish you success," put in the medium encouragingly.

"The chances of success are so great that if you were a betting man I
should be inclined to ask you to make a joint affair of it," I said.

"My dear M. V----, I am not a bigot. I have no objection to a wager
provided the stakes are made worth my while."

"I think they should be. Well, I will tell you plainly, I stand to
win this amount if the Baltic Fleet does not sail for another month."

M. Auguste smiled pleasantly.

"I congratulate you," he said. "From what I have heard the repairs
will take at least that time."

"But that is not all. This bet of mine is continuous. I win a similar
stake for every month which passes without the fleet having left
harbor."

M. Auguste gazed at me steadily before speaking.

"If your bet were renewable weekly instead of monthly, you might
become quite a rich man."

I saw that I was dealing with a cormorant. I made a hasty mental
calculation. Half of one thousand rubles was about $375 a week, and
the information I had led me to believe that Port Arthur was capable
of holding out for another six months at least. To delay the sailing
of the Baltic Fleet till then would cost roughly $10,000--say 15,000
rubles.

I decided that neither England nor Japan would grudge the price.

"I think your suggestion is a good one," I answered M. Auguste. "In
that case, should you be willing to share the bet?"

"I should be willing to undertake it entirely," was the response.

The scoundrel wanted $20,000!

Had I been dealing with an honest man I should have let him have the
money. But he had raised his terms so artfully that I felt sure that
if I yielded this he would at once make some fresh demand.

I therefore shook my head, and began picking up the notes on the
table.

"That would not suit me at all," I said decidedly. "I do not wish to
be left out altogether."

M. Auguste watched me with growing uneasiness as I restored the notes
one by one to my pocket-book.

"Look here!" he said abruptly, as the last note disappeared. "Tell me
plainly what you expect me to do."

"I expect you to have a communication from your friend Madame
Blavatsky, or any other spirit you may prefer--Peter the Great would
be most effective, I should think--every time the Baltic Fleet is
ready to start, warning 'Mr. Nicholas' not to let it sail."

M. Auguste appeared to turn this proposal over in his mind.

"And is that all?" he asked.

"I shall expect you to keep perfect secrecy about the arrangement. I
have a friend at Potsdam, and I shall be pretty sure to hear if you
try to give me away."

"Potsdam!" M. Auguste seemed genuinely surprised, and even
disconcerted.

"Do you mean to say that you didn't know you were carrying out the
instructions of Wilhelm II.?" I demanded, scarcely less surprised.

It was difficult to believe that the vexation showed by the medium
was feigned.

"Of course! I see it now!" burst from him. "I wondered what she meant
by all that stuff about Germany. And I--a Frenchman!"

It is extraordinary what unexpected scruples will display themselves
in the most unprincipled knaves. Low as they may descend, there seems
always to be some one point on which they are as sensitive as a
Bayard.

M. Auguste, of all men in the world, was a French patriot! It turned
out that he was a fanatical Nationalist and anti-Semite. He had
howled in anti-Dreyfusite mobs, and flung stones at the windows of
Masonic temples in Paris.

I was delighted with this discovery, which gave me a stronger hold on
him than any bribe could.

But I had noted the feminine pronoun in his exclamation recorded
above. I did not think it referred to the revealing spirit.

"You have been deceived by the woman who has given you your
instructions," I remarked to him, when his excitement had subsided a
little. "I fancy I can guess her name."

"Yes. It is the Princess Y----," he confessed.

Bewildering personality! Again, as I heard her name connected with an
intrigue of the basest kind, a criminal conspiracy to influence the
ruler of Russia by feigned revelations from the spirits of the dead,
I recalled the sight I had last had of her, kneeling in her oratory,
scourging herself before--my portrait!

There was no longer any fear that M. Auguste would prove obdurate on
the question of terms. He pocketed his first five hundred rubles, and
departed, vowing that the Baltic fleet should never get farther than
Libau, if it was in the power of spirits to prevent it.

Desirous to relieve Lord Bedale's mind as far as possible I
despatched the following wire to him the next morning:

      Sailing of Baltic Fleet postponed indefinitely. No danger
      for the present. Watch Germany.

I sent a fuller account of the situation to a son of Mr. Katahashi,
who was in England, nominally attached to the staff of the Imperial
Bank, but really on business of a confidential character which it
would be indiscreet on my part to indicate.

I may say that I particularly cautioned the young Japanese to avoid
any action calculated to give the least color to the German legends
about warships being secretly manufactured in British yards to the
order of the Mikado's Government.

Every reader who has followed the course of the war with any
attention will recollect the history of the fleet thus detained by my
contrivance.

Week after week, and month after month, the Baltic Fleet was declared
to be on the point of departure. Time after time the Czar went on
board to review it in person, and speak words of encouragement to the
officers and crew. And every time, after everything had been
pronounced ready, some mysterious obstacle arose at the last moment
to detain the fleet in Russian waters.

Journalists, naval experts, politicians and other ill-informed
persons invented or repeated all sorts of explanations to account for
the series of delays.

Only in the very innermost circles of the Russian Court it was
whispered that the guardian spirit of the great Peter, the founder of
Russia's naval power, had repeatedly come to warn his descendant of
disasters in store for the fleet, should it be permitted to sail.

M. Auguste was earning his reward.




CHAPTER XXI

MY FUNERAL


The extreme privacy with which I had managed my negotiation with M.
Auguste completely baffled the plotters who were relying on the
voyage of the Baltic Fleet to furnish a _casus belli_ between Russia
and Great Britain.

They realized, of course, that some powerful hand was interfering
with their designs, and they were sufficiently intelligent to guess
that that hand must be mine.

But they were far from suspecting the method of my operations. They
firmly believed that M. Auguste was still carrying out their
instructions, and sowing distrust of England in the mind of Nicholas
II. Indeed, on one occasion he informed me that the Princess Y----
had sent for him and ordered him not to frighten the Czar to such an
extent as to make him afraid to let the fleet proceed to sea.

Unable to detect and countermine me, it was natural that they should
become impatient for my removal.

Accordingly, I was not surprised to receive an urgent message from
Sophia, late one evening, requesting me to come to her without delay.

By this time our friendship, if such it could be called, had become
so intimate that I visited her nearly every day on one pretext or
another.

Her greeting, as soon as I had obeyed the summons, showed me that a
fresh development had taken place in the situation.

"Andreas, the hour has come!"

"The hour?"

"For your removal. Petrovitch has been here. He suspects something.
He has rebuked me severely for the delay."

"Did you tell him I was not an easy man to kill?"

"I told him anything and everything. He would not listen. He says
they have lost confidence in me. He was brutal. He said----"

"Well, what did he say?"

"He said--" she spoke slowly and shamefacedly--"that he perceived it
took a man to kill a man."

I smiled grimly.

"History tells us differently. But what then?"

"To-morrow I shall no longer be able to answer for your life."

"You think some one else will be appointed to dispose of me?"

"I am sure that some one else has been appointed already. Most likely
it is Petrovitch himself."

"Well, I shall look out for him." I did not think it necessary to
tell Sophia that I had been expecting something of this kind, and had
made certain preparations.

"It will be useless, Andreas. You do not know the man with whom you
have to deal."

"The ignorance may be mutual," I observed drily.

The Princess became violently agitated.

"You must let me save you," she exclaimed clasping her hands.

"In what way?"

"You must let me kill you _here_, to-night.

"Don't you understand?" she pursued breathlessly. "It is absolutely
necessary for your safety, perhaps for the safety of both of us, that
they should think I have carried out my instructions. You must appear
to die. Then they will no longer concern themselves about you, and
you will be able to assume some other personality without being
suspected."

The scheme appealed to me strongly, all the more that it seemed as
though it could be made to fit in very well with my own plans.

"You are a clever woman, Sophia," I said cautiously. "How do you
purpose to carry out your scheme? They will want to see my corpse, I
suppose."

She drew out the little key I have already described.

"Come this way."

I followed her through the bedroom as before to the door of the
locked oratory.

She opened the door and admitted me.

By the light of the wax candles I saw what was surely one of the
strangest sights ever presented to mortal eyes.

It was myself, lying in state!

On a high bier draped in white and black cloth, I lay, or, rather, my
counterpart presentment in wax lay, wrapped and shrouded like a dead
body, a branch of palm in the closed hands, and a small Russian coin
resting on the lips, in accordance with a quaint custom which
formerly prevailed in many lands.

In spite of my habitual self-command I was unable to repress a cold
shiver at this truly appalling spectacle.

"Your stage management is perfect," I observed after a pause. "But
will they be satisfied with a look only?"

"I do not think so. It will be necessary for you to put on the
appearance of death for a short time, till I have satisfied them.
Afterward I can conceal you in here, while this--" she pointed to the
ghastly figure--"is buried under your name."

"Let us get back to the other room, before we talk about it," I
urged. "This is not altogether a pleasant sight."

As we passed out of the oratory I stealthily took note of the
fastening of the door. The lock was on the outside only; in other
words, if I permitted myself to be immured in the cell-like chamber,
I should be a prisoner at the mercy of my charming friend.

"And now, by what means do you purpose that I shall assume the
appearance of death?" I inquired as soon as we had returned to the
boudoir.

The Princess opened a small cabinet, and produced a tiny stoppered
bottle.

"By swallowing this medicine," she answered. "I have had it specially
prepared from a recipe given me ten years ago at a time when I
thought of resorting to the same contrivance to escape from my
taskmaster."

I took the bottle in my hand, and examined it carefully. It bore no
label, and the contents appeared perfectly colorless.

"In five minutes after you have swallowed the contents of the
bottle," Sophia explained, "you will begin to turn cold, at first in
the feet and hands. As the cold mounts to the brain you will
gradually lose consciousness, and become rigid. You will look as pale
as if you were actually dead, and your heart will cease to beat."

"And how long will this stupor last?"

"About twenty-four hours, more or less, according to your
constitution."

I looked carefully and steadily into her eyes. She flushed and
trembled violently, but did not quail.

"What does it taste like?" I asked.

"It is a little bitter."

"I will take it in water, then."

"You can take it in wine, if you like. I have some here."

She moved to a small cupboard in the wall.

"I shall tell them that I gave it to you in wine, in any case," she
added.

"I prefer water, thank you. May I fetch some from the next room?"

"I will fetch it," she said hastily, going to the bedroom.

On an ebony stand beside me there was a large china bowl containing a
flowering plant in its pot. In a second I had removed the stopper,
emptied the bottle into the space between the flower-pot and the
outer bowl, and put the stopper back again.

"Tell me," I said to the Princess as she hurried back with a carafe
and tumbler, "have you thought how I am to get away from this house
without exciting attention?"

"It will be easy for me to procure you a dozen disguises. I am always
going to masked balls. But are you in such a hurry to leave me?"

"I shall find the air of your oratory rather confined, I am afraid."

She hung her head in evident chagrin.

"But where will you go?" she demanded.

"Oh, that is all arranged. I have taken a small house and furnished
it, in another name."

"Where?" she asked breathlessly.

"Perhaps I had better not tell you till this excitement is over. I
must not burden you with too many of my secrets."

Sophia's eyes filled with tears.

"You distrust me still!" she cried. "But, after all, what does it
matter? I have only to ask Petrovitch."

"That will be quite unnecessary as well as useless. I pledge myself
to tell you before I leave this place, and I have not favored M.
Petrovitch with my new address."

She smiled scornfully.

"And do you believe that you have succeeded in taking a house in
Petersburg without his knowledge? You do not know him, I tell you
again. He has had you watched every hour of the day while you have
been here."

"Please credit me with a little resource, as well as your friend," I
answered with some slight irritation. "I have no doubt the spies of
M. Petrovitch have watched me pretty closely, but they have not been
able to watch every person who has come in and out of the hotel. Two
of my most capable assistants have been in Petersburg for the last
month--since the day you hinted that my life was not quite safe, in
fact."

The woman before me looked completely overwhelmed.

"One of them," I proceeded with cutting severity, "has taken the
house I speak of. The other is watching over my personal safety at
this moment."

The Princess fairly gave way. Sinking on the couch behind her, she
exclaimed in a faint voice:

"You are a demon, not a man!"

It was the finest compliment she could have paid me.

"And now," I said carelessly, "to carry out your admirable little
idea."

The unhappy woman put up her hands, and turned away her head in sheer
terror.

I splashed some water into the tumbler, and then trickled in a small
quantity afterward, to imitate the sound of adding the poison. This
done I respectfully handed the bottle to my companion.

"To our next meeting!" I called out lightly, as I lifted the tumbler
to my lips and drained it.

It was the Princess who swooned.

Although I had not foreseen this weakness on her part I took
advantage of it to draw the tiny key of the oratory from her bosom,
and hide it in my mouth.

I then touched the bell twice, the signal for the Princess's maid to
appear.

"Fauchette," I said, when she entered--for this was the assistant I
had alluded to as watching over my personal safety--"Madame has just
given me the contents of that stoppered bottle. Do you know anything
about them?"

Fauchette had made good use of her time since obtaining her
situation. These things are so easily managed that I am almost
ashamed to explain that a bribe to the former maid had brought about
a convenient illness, and the recommendation of Fauchette as a
temporary substitute.

"Yes, Monsieur," she said quietly. "I filled the bottle with water
this afternoon, in case of accident. I have preserved the previous
contents, in case you should care to have them analyzed."

"You have done well, very well, my girl."

Fauchette blushed with pleasure. I do not often say so much to my
staff.

"Madame does not know that I had just emptied the bottle into that
china bowl," I added carelessly.

"It is useless to try to serve Monsieur; he does everything himself,"
murmured the poor girl, mortified.

"Nonsense, Fauchette, I have just praised you. It is always possible
that I may overlook something."

Fauchette shook her head with an incredulous air.

I have found it good policy to maintain this character for
infallibility with my staff. It is true, perhaps, that I do not very
often blunder.

"And now," I went on, "it is time for the poison to take effect! As
soon as I am dead, you will awake Madame."

I lay down on another couch, and composed myself in a rigid attitude
with my eyes closed. I did not believe, of course, that it would be
possible to deceive a close observer, but I trusted to the wild
emotions of the Princess to blind her to any signs of life.

I heard Fauchette dart on her mistress with a well-acted scream, and
sprinkle her face and neck with cold water.

Sophia seemed to revive quickly.

"Andreas!" I heard her gasp. "Where? What has become of him?"

"M. Sterling has also fainted," the maid replied with assumed
innocence.

"Ha!"

It was more like a shriek than a sob. I heard a hasty rustling of
skirts, and then Sophia seemed to be kneeling beside me, and feeling
for the beat of my heart.

"Go, Fauchette! Send Gregory instantly to M. Petrovitch to inform him
that M. Sterling has been taken ill in my house, and that I fear he
is dead."

The Princess began loosening my necktie.

Had Fauchette been present I should have been able to point to this
as a proof that I was not incapable of an occasional oversight.

As a matter of fact, I had not anticipated this very natural action
on Sophia's part. Yet it should have been evident that, were it only
to keep up appearances before any one who might come to view my
supposed corpse, she would be bound to free my neck.

And I was wearing the locket which contained the portrait of my
promised bride!

I lay, really rigid with apprehension, while Sophia's caressing
fingers tenderly removed the necktie, and began unfastening my collar
and shirt.

Suddenly I heard an ejaculation--at first striking the note of
surprise and curiosity merely, but deepening to fear.

In a moment the locket was lifted from my chest, and forced open with
a metallic click.

"Ah!--Ah!"

She let the open locket drop from her fingers on my bare throat.

Instantly it was clutched up again. I could picture the frenzied gaze
of jealousy and hate in those burning eyes of deepest violet; I could
actually feel the passionate breathing from between the clenched
teeth of whitest ivory.

"Miserable child!" she hissed, the hand that held the locket
trembling so that I could feel it against my neck. "So _you_ have
robbed me of him!"

She paused, and then added, forcing out each word with a passion of
distilled hate----

"But you shall never have him! He shall be mine! Mine! Mine, in the
grave!"




CHAPTER XXII

A PERILOUS MOMENT


I lay with every nerve strained to its utmost tension, listening for
the least movement on the part of the maddened woman which might
indicate she was about to stab me then and there.

In the silence that followed, if she did not hear the beating of my
heart it was only because her own stormy emotions had rendered her
deaf and blind to everything else.

For a time her rapid breathing continued to warm my uncovered neck.
Then she snapped-to the locket and let it fall, and rose from my side
to pace the floor of the room with swift, irregular steps.

Fauchette, who must have been anxious to know how I was faring, now
came back without waiting to be summoned.

"Well?" the Princess demanded, halting in her promenade.

"Gregory has gone for M. Petrovitch, Madame. Is there anything I can
do?"

"I have tried every restorative," came the answer. "See if you can
detect any signs of life."

The last command seemed to come as an afterthought. No doubt, Sophia
wished to test her work before Petrovitch arrived.

I was encouraged to think that she had no immediate intention of
killing me; and as the maid bent over me I contrived to give her hand
a reassuring squeeze.

"He is quite dead, Madame," the girl said, turning away. "Would you
like to have the body carried into another room?"

"No. Wait till M. Petrovitch comes," her mistress replied. "You can
go."

As my assistant withdrew I again became on the alert for any
dangerous move on the part of the Princess.

It was not long before I was conscious that the room had grown
darker.

I gathered that Sophia had switched off some of the lights in order
to make it more difficult for Petrovitch to detect her fraud, and
again I took courage.

Some muttered words helped me to understand the plan of the desperate
woman.

"I will give him one chance. He shall choose. Men do not die for love
in these days."

There was little doubt that she intended to lock me up in her oratory
and hold me a prisoner till I consented to sacrifice my faith to her
Japanese rival.

Satisfied that there was little risk of any immediate violence, I
waited calmly for the arrival of Sophia's colleague, or master.

The head of the Manchurian Syndicate lost no time on the way. Very
soon I heard the door open and the familiar voice, with its slightly
affected accent, saying,

"Permit me to offer you the expression of my sincere regrets, dear
Princess!--And my sincere congratulations," he added in a more
business-like tone, as the door closed again.

A sigh was the only audible response.

"It has cost you something, I can see," the man's voice resumed
soothingly. "That fact gives you a still stronger claim on our
gratitude. I confess I began to fear seriously that you were
deceiving us, and that would have been very dangerous."

Another obscure sound, between a sigh and a sob, from the woman.

"Now we can proceed with light hearts. Within three months from now
Russia and Great Britain will be at war. I do not mind answering for
it. There was only one man in Europe who could have prevented it, and
he lies there!"

"You would have it so! I still say it would have been enough to
imprison him somewhere."

"You talk foolishly, believe me, Princess. A man like that is not to
be imprisoned. There is no jailer in the world who would venture to
undertake to keep the famous A. V. under lock and key."

"I would have undertaken it," came the answer. "I would have locked
him in my oratory, the key of which never leaves my bosom."

"Nevertheless if it was important to that man to steal it from you,
it would not remain in your bosom very long."

A startled cry interrupted the speaker, and told me that Sophia had
made the fatal discovery of the loss of her key.

I held my breath in the most dreadful suspense. Everything now
depended on this woman. If she allowed the least hint, I knew that
Petrovitch would never leave the room without at least an attempt to
change my supposed trance into death.

Fortunately the Princess was equal to the emergency. I heard her give
a slight laugh.

"I am punished for my assurance," she confessed. "I am not quite
hardened, as you know; and when I realized that M. V---- was actually
dead, I was obliged to pray for him. I have left the key in the
door."

"Go and fetch it, then."

The tone in which these words were spoken was harsh. I heard Sophia
going out of the room, and in an instant, with a single bound, as it
seemed, the man was leaning over me, feeling my pulse, listening for
my heart, and testing whether I breathed.

"If I had brought so much as a knife with me, I would have made
sure," I heard him mutter to himself.

Fortunately Sophia's absence did not last ten seconds. She must have
snatched up the first key that came to hand, that of a jewel-box most
likely, and hurried back with it.

Petrovitch seemed to turn away from me with reluctance.

"You doubt me, it appears," came in angry tones from the Princess.

"I doubt everybody," was the cool rejoinder. "You were in love with
this fellow."

"You think so? Then look at this."

I felt the locket being picked up, and heard the click of the tiny
spring.

A coarse laugh burst from the financier.

"So that is it! Woman's jealousy is safer than her sworn word, after
all. Now I believe he _is_ dead."

The Princess made no reply.

Presently the man spoke again.

"This must be kept a secret among ourselves, you understand. The
truth is, I have exceeded my instructions a little. A certain
personage only authorized detention. It appears he is like you in
having a certain tenderness for this fellow--why, I can't think. At
any rate his manner was rather alarming when we hinted that a coffin
made the safest straight-jacket."

It was impossible for me to doubt that it was the Kaiser whom this
villain had insulted by offering to have me assassinated. I thanked
Wilhelm II. silently for his chivalrous behavior. M. Petrovitch could
have known little of the proud Hohenzollern whom he tempted.

At the same time, it was a source of serious concern for me to know
that, just as I had learned that my real opponent was my friend the
Kaiser, so he in turn had acquired the knowledge that he had me
against him.

It had become a struggle, no longer in the dark, between the most
resourceful of Continental sovereigns and myself, and that being so,
I realized that I could not afford to rest long on my oars.

From the deep breathing of the Princess, I surmised that she was
choking down the rage she must have felt at the other's cynical
depravity. For Sophia, though capable of committing a murder out of
jealousy perhaps, was yet incapable of killing for reward.

"Well," I heard Petrovitch say in the tone of one who is taking his
leave, "I must send some one 'round to remove our friend."

"Do not trouble, if you please. I will see to the funeral," came in
icy tones from the Princess.

"What, still sentimental! Be careful, my good Sophia Y----, you will
lose your value to us if you give way to such weaknesses."

I heard his steps move across the carpeted floor, and then with
startling suddenness, the words came out:

"Curse me if I can believe he _is_ dead!"

My blood ran cold. But it turned out to be only a passing
exclamation. At the end of what seemed to me minutes--they can only
have been seconds--the footsteps moved on, and the door opened and
closed.

"Thank God!" burst from Sophia.

Her next words were plainly an apostrophe to myself.

"So you did not trust me after all!"

I was within an ace of opening my eyes on the supposition that she
had found me out, when I was reassured by her adding, this time to
herself,

"He must have done it when I fainted!"

I saw that she was referring to my theft of the key.

There was a soft rustle of silk on the floor, and I felt her hands
searching in my pockets for the stolen key.

"Fool! To think that I could outwit him!" she murmured to herself at
last.

She had taken some time to learn the lesson, however.




CHAPTER XXIII

A RESURRECTION AND A GHOST


It was soon evident that the Princess Y---- had taken her new maid
into her confidence to a certain extent.

She must have rung for Fauchette without my hearing anything, for
presently the door opened again, and I heard my assistant's voice.

As the result of a hurried consultation between the two women, in
which Fauchette played to perfection the part of a devoted maid who
is only desirous to anticipate the wishes of her mistress, it was
decided to wheel the sofa on which I lay into the oratory, and to
bring the wax dummy into the Princess's bedroom, to lie in state till
the next day.

The arrangement did not take long to carry out.

Partly from what I was able to overhear, and partly from the report
afterward furnished to me by Fauchette, I am able to relate
succinctly what took place.

To begin with, I was left in the oratory, while the counterfeit
corpse was duly arranged in the adjoining room.

Unable to lock me in the smaller apartment, Sophia declared her
intention of locking both the outer doors of the bedroom, one of
which gave on a corridor, while the other, as the reader is aware,
opened into the boudoir where the previous scene had taken place.

The Princess retained one of these keys herself, entrusting the other
to the maid, of course with the strictest injunctions as to its use.

To keep up appearances before the household, the Princess arranged to
pass the next few nights in another room on the same floor, which
usually served as a guest chamber.

It was explained to the servants that the death which had occurred
had upset the nerves of their mistress, and rendered her own suite of
rooms distasteful to her for the present.

Fauchette, who thus became my jailer, brought me a supply of cold
food and wine during the night. I had part of this provision under
the altar of the oratory, to serve me during the following day.

My cataleptic condition was supposed to endure for nearly twenty-four
hours. The enforced seclusion was intensely irritating to a man of my
temperament; but I could not evade it without revealing to Sophia
that I had heard her confession, and thereby inflicting a deadly
wound on a woman who loved me.

Meanwhile the arrangements for my funeral had been pressed on.

Already a telegram had appeared in the London papers announcing the
sudden and unexpected death from heart-failure of the well-known
English philanthropist, Mr. Melchisedak Sterling. One or two of the
journals commented on the fact of Mr. Sterling's death having taken
place while he was on a mission of peace to the Russian capital, and
expressed a hope that his death would have a chastening effect on the
War Party in Petersburg.

My friend, the editor of the Peace Review, very generously sent a
wreath, which arrived too late for the funeral but was laid on my
grave.

Unfortunately these newspaper announcements were taken seriously by
my exalted employers, as well as by the enemies whom I wished to
deceive, but this could not be helped.

By noon the undertaker's men had arrived with my coffin. The Princess
played upon their ignorance of English customs and burial rites to
pretend that the work of coffining must be done by women's hands. In
this way she and Fauchette were able to enclose the dummy in its
wooden shell, leaving to the men only the task of screwing down the
lid.

The burial took place in the English cemetery. I am glad to say that
the Princess contrived to avoid the mockery of a religious service by
alleging that Mr. Sterling had belonged to a peculiar sect--the
Quakers, I fancy--which holds such ceremonies to be worldly and
unnecessary.

I may add that I have since visited my grave, which is still to be
seen in a corner of the cemetery. It is marked by a stone slab with
an inscription in English.

In the afternoon the faithful Fauchette persuaded her mistress to go
out for a drive, to soothe her over-strained nerves.

Before quitting the house, the Princess came in to take a last look
at me.

She lingered minute after minute, as though with some premonition
that our next meeting would be under widely different circumstances.

To herself, I heard her whisper, sighing softly:

"Andreas! O Andreas! If I could sleep, or thou couldst never wake!"

She crept away, and the better to secure me locked both the bedroom
doors herself, and carried off the keys.

On her return, two hours later, Sophia, with a look that told the
watchful Fauchette of her uneasiness, hurried straight up-stairs,
toward the door of the little oratory.

She found it locked from the outside, with the key in the door.

It had cost me something to break my pledge to the Princess Y----
that I would give her my new address before leaving her.

But her unfortunate discovery of the portrait I wore around my neck
and her plainly-declared intention to hold me a prisoner till she
could shake my fidelity, had rendered it necessary for me to meet
treachery with treachery.

The secret service, it must always be borne in mind, has its own code
of honor, differing on many points from that obtaining in other
careers, but perhaps stricter on the whole.

For instance, I can lay my hand on my heart and declare that I have
never done either of two things which are done every day by men
holding high offices and high places in the world's esteem. I have
never taken a secret commission. And I have never taken advantage of
my political information to gamble in stocks.

The manner of my escape was simplicity itself.

My assistant had not come to live with the Princess without making
some preparations for the part she was to play, and these included
the bringing with her of a bunch of skeleton keys, fully equal to the
work of opening any ordinary lock.

As soon as her mistress was safely out of the way, Fauchette came to
receive my instructions.

I told her that I did not intend to wait for my jailer's return. We
discussed the best way for me to slip out, without obstruction from
the servants, and I decided to take advantage of the superstition of
the Russian illiterate class, by enacting the part of my own ghost.

The report that I had been buried without any funeral service had
already reached the household, and had prepared them for any
supernatural manifestation.

Fauchette first brought me a little powdered chalk, with which I
smeared my face. I then put on a long flowing cloak and a sombrero
hat, part of the wardrobe accumulated by the Princess in the course
of her gaieties.

I slipped a damp sponge into my pocket and directed the girl to lead
the way.

She went down-stairs a few yards in front of me, turned into the
servants' part of the house and threw open the back door, which led
out into a courtyard giving on a street used only by tradesmen's
carts. At this hour of the day it was deserted.

I followed cautiously in Fauchette's wake, and got as far as the back
door without meeting any interruption.

But at that point, the porter, who must have been roused by an
unfamiliar step--though I understand he swore afterward that the
passage of the ghost had been absolutely noiseless--came out and
stood in the doorway.

Without hesitating for an instant I assumed an erect posture and
advanced swiftly toward him with my whitened face well displayed.

The fellow gave vent to a half-articulate call which died down in his
throat, and bolted back into his room uttering yell after yell.

Fifteen seconds later I was out in the street, sponging the chalk
from my face.

And five minutes after that I was comfortably seated in a hired
droshky, on my way to a certain little house in the seafaring quarter
of the city, which possessed, among other advantages, that of
commanding an exceedingly fine view of the Admiralty Pier.




CHAPTER XXIV

A SECRET EXECUTION


I now come to a part of my chronicle which I plainly foresee must
expose me to grave criticism.

To that criticism it is no part of my purpose to attempt any reply.

In the long run, I have found, men's minds are not much affected by
argument and advocacy. Facts tell their own story, and men's
judgments are usually the result of their personal prejudices.

For that reason I shall confine myself to relating facts. I have
already told the story of my murder--for such it was in the
intent--by Petrovitch. I shall now tell the story of the justice
meted out by me on the assassin.

As soon as I was safely lodged in my house on the Alexander Quay, I
despatched my assistant, a clever young Frenchman named Breuil, with
a message to the promoter of the Manchurian Syndicate--the real
moving spirit of that War clique in which even the bellicose grand
dukes had only secondary parts.

The wording of the message had been carefully calculated to arouse
curiosity, but not apprehension.

"The agent of a foreign Power," Breuil was instructed to say to this
self-styled patriot, "with very large funds at his disposal, desires
to see you in strict secrecy."

The bait took. Petrovitch, naturally concluding that he was to be
offered a heavy bribe for some act of treachery to Russia, greedily
accepted the invitation.

The infatuated man did not take even the ordinary precaution of
asking for guarantees. He consented to accompany Breuil at once,
merely asking how far he had to go. This recklessness was the result
of his supposed triumphant crime. Believing that I was safely
interred in the English cemetery, he thought there was no one left
for him to fear.

On the way he did his best to extract some information out of my
assistant. But Breuil returned the same answer to all his questions
and hints:

"I am under orders not to converse with you, monsieur."

The doomed man was in good spirits as the droshky put him down at the
door of my house.

"Decidedly an out-of-the-way retreat!" he commented gaily. "I should
hardly be able to find my way here again without your assistance!"

The silent Breuil merely bowed, as he proceeded to open the street
door with a latch key.

Perhaps Petrovitch had been a little more nervous than he allowed to
appear. When he noticed that his escort simply closed the door on the
latch, without locking or bolting it further, he said in a tone of
relief:

"You are not much afraid of being visited by the police, I see."

Breuil, as silent as ever, led the way into a back parlor,
overlooking the Neva, where I was waiting to receive my visitor.

The room was plainly furnished as a study, and I had placed myself in
an arm-chair facing the window, so that my back was turned to the
door as Petrovitch entered.

I pretended to be writing furiously, as a pretext for not turning my
head till the visitor had seated himself.

Breuil said quietly, "M. Petrovitch is here," and went out of the
room.

As the door closed I tossed away my pen and turned around, facing my
assassin.

"I am pleased to see you, M. Petrovitch."

"Monsieur V----!"

I thought he would have lost his senses. His whole countenance
changed. He clung to his chair, and his eyes were fixed on me with an
expression of panic.

So complete was his collapse that he did not attempt to speak or
excuse himself. I saw that he was hardly in a condition to listen to
anything I had to say.

"I fear you are unwell, M. Petrovitch. Allow me to offer you a little
brandy."

The wretched man watched me with bewildered looks, as I took a bottle
and glasses from a cupboard and helped first him and then myself.

"It is quite wholesome, I assure you."

As I said the words I raised my own glass to my lips and sipped.

A choking cry escaped from the author of the war. He seized the glass
I had set before him and feverishly drained it.

I saw that he was burning to know by what means I had escaped the
fate prepared for me. But I had no object in gratifying his
curiosity, and mere boasting is not a weakness of mine.

Steadfastly preserving the tone of a business interview between men
who understand each other, I went on to say:

"I am here, as you know, in the joint interests of England and
Japan."

My murderer nodded faintly. I could see him making a tremendous
effort to control his nerves, and enter into conversation with me on
my own terms.

"I think I should be glad of a little more brandy. Thank you!--I am
not at all myself."

I shook my head compassionately.

"You should be careful to avoid too much excitement," I said. "Any
sudden shock is bad for a man with your nerves."

The promoter gasped. The situation was clearly beyond him.

"You," I went on in my most matter-of-fact tone, "on the contrary,
are acting on behalf of Germany."

"Who says so!" He was beginning to speak fiercely; but his eye met
mine, and the words died on his lips.

"We will say I dreamed it, if you like," I responded drily. "I have
very remarkable dreams sometimes, and learn a great deal from them.

"To confine ourselves to business. I have caused the sailing of this
Baltic Fleet to be put off, because----"

"You--have caused it!"

The interruption burst from him in spite of himself.

I affected to shrug my shoulders with a certain annoyance.

"Your opinion of my powers does not seem to be a very high one,
unfortunately," I remarked with irony. "It would be better if you
accepted me as a serious antagonist, believe me."

Petrovitch lowered his eyes in confusion, as he muttered,

"I apologize, Monsieur V----. I have blundered, as I now perceive."

"Let us resume. I was about to say that I had prevented the sailing
of this fleet, because I feared that its voyage might be marked by
some incident likely to bring Great Britain and Russia into
collision."

The financier raised his head and watched me keenly.

"You, yourself, M. Petrovitch, have been active, I believe, in
preparing the mind of the Czar and the Russian public for something
of the sort. Doubtless you have not done so without very good
grounds."

"My information leads me to think that a flotilla of torpedo boats is
being kept ready in the English ports for a night attack on our fleet
during its progress through the North Sea."

I smiled disdainfully.

"That is a false report. I have asked you to call here in the hope
that I might find you ready to assist me in discrediting it."

The Russian continued to watch me out of his narrow eyes.

"And, also," I added, "to assist me in preventing any attempt to give
color to it."

"I am not sure that I understand you, Monsieur V----."

"That is quite possible. I will speak more plainly. There are some
prophets who take a little trouble to make their prophesies come
true. I wish to know whether you and your friends have determined
that this particular prophesy shall come true--perhaps to fulfill it
yourselves?"

Petrovitch frowned and compressed his lips.

"So that is why you got me here?"

"I wished to see," I said blandly, "if it was possible for me to
offer you terms which might induce you to alter your views
altogether--in short, to stop the war."

The financier looked thunderstruck.

"Monsieur V----, you don't know what you ask! But you--would a
million rubles tempt you to come over, to be neutral, even?"

"I am a member, by adoption, of the imperial family of Japan," I
replied laconically.

Petrovitch was past surprise. If I had informed him that I was the
Mikado in disguise, I think he would have taken it as a matter of
course.

"This war is worth ten millions to me," he confessed hoarsely.

I shook my head with resignation.

"The price is too high. We must be enemies, not friends, I perceive."

The author of the war, who had regained his self-possession, did not
blanch at these words.

"I regret it," he said with a courteous inclination.

"You have reason to."

He gave me a questioning glance.

"Up to the present I have been on the defensive," I explained. "I
dislike violent measures. But from this moment I shall hold myself at
liberty to use them."

"I am afraid I have gone rather too far," the promoter hesitated.

"You have drugged me. You have robbed me. You have murdered me."

"You are alive, however," he ventured to retort with an impudent
smile.

"Unfortunately," I went on sternly, "in murdering me you exceeded
your instructions."

"How----"

"I dreamed that I heard you tell your accomplice so," I put in,
without giving him a chance to speak.

He ceased to meet my gaze.

"You are therefore not even a political criminal. You are a common
felon. As such I warn you that I shall execute you without notice,
and without reprieve."

The Russian scowled fiercely.

"We will see about that," he blustered. "I have a loaded revolver in
my pocket."

I waved my hand scornfully.

"Undeceive yourself, George Petrovitch. I am not proposing a duel. I
cannot be expected to fight with a condemned murderer. I sentence you
to death--and may the Lord have mercy on your soul."

"By what right?" he demanded furiously.

"I am accredited by the Emperor of Japan to the Emperor of Russia.
This house is Japanese soil. Farewell!"

Petrovitch rose from his chair, wavering between indignation and
alarm.

"I shall defend myself!" he exclaimed, edging slowly toward the door.

"You will do better to confess yourself. Is there no prayer that you
wish to say?"

The Russian smiled incredulously.

"You seem very confident," he sneered.

I saw that it was useless to try to rouse him to a sense of his
peril. I pointed to the door, and pressed a knob on the wall.

The murderer made two steps from me, laid his fingers on the
door-handle--and dropped dead instantly.




CHAPTER XXV

A CHANGE OF IDENTITY


I now approach the crucial portion of my narrative.

The incidents already dealt with, though not without a certain
interest, perhaps, for those who value exact information about
political events, are comparatively unimportant, and have been given
here chiefly in order to inspire confidence in what follows.

At all events, their truth is not likely to be disputed, and I have
not thought it necessary, therefore, to insist on every corroborative
detail.

But I am now about to enter on what must be considered debatable
ground.

I had taken the little house on the Alexander Quay, as the reader
will have guessed, as a post of observation from which to watch the
proceedings of the Russian Ministry of Marine, more particularly with
regard to the fleet under the command of Admiral Rojestvensky.

It is my subsequent observations and discoveries which compel me,
greatly to my regret, to give a direct contradiction to the gallant
Admiral's version of what took place in the North Sea on the night
of Trafalgar Day, 1904.

It is for that reason that I desire to exercise particular care in
this part of my statement.

Such care is the more incumbent on me, inasmuch as I was requested by
the British Government to furnish a confidential copy of my evidence
in advance, for the use of the members of the international court
which sat in Paris to inquire into this most mysterious affair.

The following chapters should be read, therefore, as the sworn
depositions of a witness, and not as the carelessly worded account of
a journalist or popular historian.

The electrocution of the murderer, Petrovitch, already described,
furnished me with a valuable opportunity which I was quick to seize.

I have not extenuated this act, and I will not defend it. I content
myself with recording that this man had been the principal instrument
in promoting the Russo-Japanese war, and the principal obstacle to
peace. In this he was acting as the paid agent of a foreign Power,
and was therefore guilty of high treason to his own country. On these
grounds my execution of him, although irregular at the time, has
since been formally ratified by the highest tribunal of the Russian
Empire, the Imperial Council of State.

A justification which I value still more, consists in the fact that
the removal of this man proved the turning point in the history of
the war.

Within a month of his death I had the satisfaction to be made the
medium of an informal overture for peace. The negotiations thus
opened have proceeded with great secrecy, but before these lines meet
the public eye, I have every hope that the calamitous struggle in
Manchuria will have been suspended indefinitely.

To return:

Owing to the secret life led by the deceased man, it was some time
before his absence from his usual haunts excited remark.

When it became evident that something must have happened to him,
people were still slow to suspect that he had come to a violent end.
Many persons believed that he had been ruined by the ill-success of
the war, and had gone into hiding from his creditors. Others supposed
that he had been secretly arrested.

Some of his fellow-plotters in the Russian capital imagined that he
had fled to Germany to escape the penalty of his treason. In Germany,
on the other hand, I afterward learned, he was supposed to have been
sent to Siberia by order of the Czar.

For weeks the "Disappearance of M. Petrovitch" was the general topic
of discussion in the newspapers and in private circles; but no one
came near guessing the truth.

There was one person who must have divined from the first what had
happened. But she held her tongue.

So far as I could gather from the reports which continued to reach me
from Fauchette, the Princess Y---- had sunk into a lethargy after my
evasion. She seemed to wish only to be left alone to brood, perhaps
to mourn.

The only sign she gave was by depositing a wreath on the empty grave
in the English cemetery, a wreath which bore the solitary word,
"Remembrance."

In the meanwhile I had gratifying evidence that the loss of the chief
conspirator had completely disorganized the schemes of the plotters
in the Ministry of Marine.

My first proceeding, after disconnecting the powerful battery which I
had installed in my house for the purpose of the execution, was to
summon my assistant Breuil.

With his aid, the corpse was stripped and sewn up in a sheet,
together with some heavy weights. In the middle of the night it was
committed to the waters of the Neva, almost within sight and sound of
the fleet.

The papers which we found in his clothes were not numerous or
important. But there was one which I thought worth preserving.

It was a passport, made out in the name of the deceased, issued by
the Russian Foreign Office, and viséd by the German Ambassador. This
passport I still have in my possession.

I now disclosed to my assistant a plan which had been in my own mind
for some time, though, true to my principle of never making an
unnecessary confidence, I had not previously mentioned it to him.

"I have decided," I told him, "to assume the personality of
Petrovitch."

Breuil stared at me in consternation. It is only fair to say that he
had not been with me very long.

I could see that some objection was trembling on the tip of his
tongue. He had learned, however, that I expect my staff not to
criticize, but to obey.

"You may speak," I said indulgently, "if you have anything to say."

"I was about to remark, sir, that you are not in the least like
Petrovitch."

"Think again," I said mildly.

He gave me an intelligent look.

"You are much about the same height!" he exclaimed.

"Exactly."

"But his friends, who see him every day--surely they cannot be
deceived? And then his business--his correspondence--but perhaps you
are able to feign handwriting?"

I smiled. The good Breuil had passed from one extreme to the other.
Instead of doubting me, he was crediting me too much.

I proceeded to explain.

"No, as you very properly suggest, I could not hope to deceive
Petrovitch's friends, nor can I imitate his hand. But remember, that
in a few days Petrovitch will have disappeared. What will have become
of him, do you suppose?"

Breuil was still puzzled. I had to make my meaning still plainer.

"He will be in concealment--that is to say, in disguise."

Breuil threw up his hands in a gesture of admiration.

"As the disguised Petrovitch I may manage to pass very well, more
particularly as I shall be meeting people who have never seen the
real Petrovitch."

Breuil did not quite understand this last observation.

"I am going," I exclaimed, "on board the Baltic Fleet."

"Sir, you are magnificent!"

I frowned down his enthusiasm. Compliments are compliments only when
they come from those who pay us, not from those whom we pay.

"Go and procure me the uniform of a superintendent of naval stores.
And ascertain for me where Captain Vassileffsky usually passes his
evenings."

Captain Vassileffsky was the naval officer who had been present on
the occasion when I was drugged at Petrovitch's table.




CHAPTER XXVI

TRAPPED


The clock was striking eight as I entered the restaurant of the
Two-Headed Eagle, in the seaport of Revel on the Gulf of Finland,
about a week after the mysterious disappearance of Petrovitch had
become the talk of Petersburg.

Picking out a table at which an officer in the uniform of a Russian
naval captain was already seated, I went up to it, and sat down in
front of him with the formal bow prescribed by etiquette in the
circumstances.

The ships intended to sail to the relief of Port Arthur were lying at
this time some at Revel and others at Libau on the Baltic. From time
to time their departure was officially announced for a certain date,
reviews were held, and one or two preliminary trips had been
undertaken.

But each time some unseen obstacle was interposed, and M. Auguste
continued to draw his weekly stipend.

Nevertheless it was beginning to be evident that the game of see-saw
could not go on forever. Autumn was approaching, the nation was
becoming impatient, and the scoffs of the foreign press were severely
galling the naval pride of Russia.

I had picked up a certain amount of information in the capital
itself, where a great number of the officers were on leave. But I
wished to get in direct touch with the one man who, I believed, was
most likely to be in the confidence of Petrovitch, and, finding there
was no chance of his coming to Petersburg, I had been obliged to make
the journey to Revel.

Vassileffsky acknowledged my bow with cordiality, at the same time
fixing his dark, wicked eyes on me with a look which I well
understood.

I was wearing the uniform which I had ordered my assistant to provide
me with, and the Captain had been quick to take note of it.

It may be said that the most valuable part of a naval officer's
income in Russia is derived from the peculation of government stores.
To carry on this lucrative system of plunder there is always a good
understanding between officials of the Stores Department and the
combatant officers.

Captain Vassileffsky now studied my face like a man expecting to
receive some proposal of the kind. I, on my side, made it my business
to say as little as possible to him till dinner was over.

Then I called for a magnum of champagne, and invited my companion to
fill a tumbler.

He did so readily enough, and I gave him the toast,

"To the Emperor who wishes us well!"

Vassileffsky started, and gave me a penetrating look.

He did not venture to put a question to me, however, and contented
himself with drinking the toast in silence.

Determined not to say anything as long as the Captain remained sober,
I plied him with champagne in increasing quantities, while taking as
little as possible myself.

On his side Vassileffsky was equally reserved. He saw, of course,
that I had a special object in courting his friendship, and was
cunning enough to let me make the first advance.

As soon as I thought the wine had had time to confuse his faculties,
I leaned forward and whispered,

"I've got something to say to you about Petrovitch."

The Captain looked at me eagerly.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Not so loud. Yes. He has had to disguise himself."

I spoke in a muffled tone, which Vassileffsky imitated in his
response.

"Where is he? I want to see him very badly."

"I know. He wants to see you. He is here in Revel."

"In Revel! Isn't that dangerous?"

"It would be if he weren't so well disguised. You, yourself, wouldn't
know him."

Vassileffsky looked incredulous.

"I bet I should."

"Done with you! What in?"

"A dozen magnums."

"Pay for them, then. _I'm Petrovitch._"

The Captain started, shook himself, and peered drunkenly into my
face.

"I don't believe it."

"Read that then."

I drew out the passport, and spread it before him. The Russian
spelled his way through it, and nodded solemnly at the end.

"Yes, that's all right. You must be Petrovitch, I suppose. But you
don't look like him."

"Didn't I tell you I was disguised. I had to clear out in a hurry.
Some one's been denouncing me to Nicholas."

Vassileffsky looked frightened. His eye sought the door, as though he
no longer felt at ease in my company.

"You needn't be afraid," I assured him. "No one suspects you."

"Well, what do you want?" he asked sullenly.

"I want you to take me on board your ship."

An angry frown crossed his face.

"You want me to hide you from the police!"

"Nonsense. The police are all right. They want me to get away. They
could have put their hands on me long ago if they had wanted to."

"Then why have you come here?"

"I told you. I want to have a talk with you about our plans."

"The plan is all right. But I want to know when we're to sail."

"I'm doing all I can. It's only a question of weeks now."

Vassileffsky looked hard at me again, bent across the table, and
whispered a word which I failed to understand.

Something in his face warned me that it was a password. I recovered
myself from my momentary confusion and smiled.

"The word's changed," I said with an air of authority. "It's _North
Sea_ and _Canal_."

The Russian seemed satisfied.

"Well," he said, stumbling to his feet, "if we're going on board we'd
better go."

"Don't forget the magnums," I put in, as I rose in my turn.

The reckoning was settled, and the champagne ordered to follow us
down to the boat.

Vassileffsky nearly lost his footing as we got out into the fresh
air, and caught hold of my arm.

"You'll have to lead me," he said, speaking thickly. "Straight along
the street, and down the first turning on the quay."

We walked along, arm-in-arm, my companion appearing to become more
helpless every minute.

As we emerged from the narrow lane which conducted us to the
waterside, the lights of the harbor burst into view. There on the
tide lay a long line of stately battleships, cruisers and dark,
low-lying torpedo boats, their riding lights flashing and twinkling
in a thousand reflections on the waves.

A drunken hail from the Captain was responded to by a respectful hail
from a Russian petty officer, who was lounging at the head of some
stone steps.

He came forward and assisted his commanding officer down and into the
launch which waited below. I followed, and the bottles of champagne
were handed in afterward.

Vassileffsky seized the tiller with more energy than he had seemed
capable of, and headed the launch for a great battleship, the
_Beresina_.

In a few minutes we were alongside. A smart landing stage and ladder
brought us up on to the deck, and as soon as our feet touched it,
Captain Vassileffsky, suddenly drawing himself up, said in distinct
and sober tones,

"Consider yourself under arrest, if you please----"

I was a prisoner on board a Russian man-of-war!




CHAPTER XXVII

THE BALTIC FLEET


Fortunately I am accustomed to face emergencies without losing my
presence of mind.

The manner of Vassileffsky had prepared me for some display of
suspicion on his part, though I hardly anticipated his procedure
would be so theatrical.

Fixing him with my sternest look, I responded,

"Captain Vassileffsky, I do not think you quite understand what you
are doing. I will talk to you in the morning, when you are more
yourself."

He drew back, considerably disconcerted.

"Very well, I will listen to what you have to say in the morning. In
the meantime you will be under a guard."

I shrugged my shoulders with a disdainful smile.

"Be good enough to let me see my quarters," I said.

More and more abashed, the Captain summoned one of his officers, and
gave him some instructions.

"Follow me, sir," said the lieutenant. I walked after him with
perfect self-possession.

"I do not wish to make a fuss to-night, as Captain Vassileffsky is
not himself," I said haughtily, as we drew out of hearing. "But you
will understand that unless I receive an apology in the morning, I
shall complain to his majesty the Czar, by whose orders I am here."

The lieutenant looked badly frightened.

"It is not my fault, as you can see, sir. I am only obeying orders.
Will you accept my own berth for the night, sir?"

I thanked him and entered a small, comfortably-fitted state-room.
With profuse apologies, he turned the key and left me to my own
reflections.

I slept soundly, rocked by the tide of the Finland Gulf.

In the morning my jailer came to wake me.

"Captain Vassileffsky presents his compliments, and asks you to
breakfast with him in his cabin, in half an hour."

This message was a welcome proof to me that my bluff had produced the
desired effect. I accepted the invitation as if it was a matter of
course.

I dressed, and went to the cabin where Vassileffsky awaited me.

"Are we friends or foes this morning?" I called out with a
good-humored laugh, as I greeted him.

The Russian looked dull and nervous.

"I hope all will be well," he muttered. "Let us have something to eat
before we talk."

He might have said, something to drink, for his own breakfast was
mainly of champagne. I, myself, made a point of eating heartily, and
drank only coffee.

"Now, Vassileffsky," I said in authoritative tones, "to business.
First of all, you want some money."

It was a guess, but a fairly safe one. Without waiting for the
astonished man to reply, I took out my pocket-book.

"How much can you do with till the fleet sails?" I asked, still in
the same matter-of-fact tone.

Fairly nonplussed, the Captain blurted out,

"I should like two thousand."

I shook my head.

"I can let you have only a thousand now, but you shall have the
balance this day week." I counted the thousand rubles, and handed
them to him. "They are grumbling, rather, in Berlin over the
expense."

It was, of course, my object to give Vassileffsky no opening for a
cross-examination, but to take it for granted that we were on
confidential terms.

At the word "Berlin" he opened his eyes pretty wide.

"Does this money come from Germany?" he exclaimed, half-withdrawing
his hand.

I affected surprise in my turn.

"You have not received any information at all, apparently! My message
must have miscarried. Didn't the Princess see you?"

Vassileffsky looked still more surprised. His demeanor taught me a
good deal. I saw that Petrovitch had not trusted him very far. The
financier had evidently kept all the threads of the intrigue in his
own hands, as far as possible.

So much the better, I reflected. His removal would disorganize
matters even more thoroughly than I had ventured to hope.

"What Princess?" the Captain asked.

"The Princess Y----, of course."

He brightened up a little, as though this name, at all events, was
familiar.

"No, she has not been here."

"One can never trust these women," I muttered aloud. "She has not
been at all the same since the death of her Englishman."

"Of Sterling, do you mean?"

"Yes. You heard of it, I suppose?"

Vassileffsky grinned.

"Rather sudden, wasn't it?"

I smiled meaningly, as I retorted,

"You remember he fainted rather unexpectedly that night he dined with
me."

A look of relief broke out on Vassileffsky's face, as I thus
referred to an incident which he naturally supposed could be known
only to Petrovitch.

"My dear fellow, I beg a thousand pardons for my stupid conduct last
night," he burst out. "But you must admit that your disguise is
extraordinary."

"Not a word!" I returned. "It is always better to err on the side of
distrust. Besides, I wished to spend a night on your ship in any
case. Your crew can be thoroughly depended on, if I am any judge."

"They would bombard the Tower of London, if I gave the word," boasted
Vassileffsky.

It is extraordinary how widely the belief prevails on the Continent
of Europe that the London Tower is still a fortress, charged with the
protection of the British capital.

"At all events, they will not be frightened by the sight of the Union
Jack?" I returned.

The Russian officer gave me an alarmed glance.

"You do not mean--you are not asking us to fire on the British
fleet?"

"No, no," I reassured him.

"Ah, that is all right. For the moment I confess you frightened me.
They say we shall have to pass Admiral Beresford!"

"What are you prepared to do?" I asked, concealing my deep interest
in the reply.

Vassileffsky's manner became slightly reproachful.

"You did not bargain with me to attack an armed ship," he said in
the tone of one who reminds another of his agreement. "It was
understood that we were to attack merchantmen, like the
Vladivostockers."

At last I had a direct confirmation of my suspicions.

"And what is the tone of the fleet generally?" I inquired.

"I have done my best to make them all of the same mind. They will do
their best, depend on it. I think there will be a few English vessels
mysteriously lost at sea during the next two or three months! The
prize courts cannot always be depended on."

By an effort I restrained my indignation at these atrocious hints.
The Baltic Fleet was about to seek the open sea, secretly intending
to miss no chance of sinking a British merchantman that should be
unlucky enough to cross its path.

It was with a feeling of chagrin that I perceived it would be useless
to send any message to Lord Bedale of what was in preparation. On
certain subjects the British people are deaf and blind. They believe
that all foreign statesmen are as high-minded as a Gladstone, and all
foreign officials as scrupulous and truthful as the Chevalier Bayard
himself.

Captain Vassileffsky continued,

"Our men are badly scared by reports of the Japanese plans. It is
supposed that they have torpedo boats lurking in the English ports.
Hull is said to be full of them."

"Why, Hull?"

Vassileffsky gave me a wink.

"Hull is the great fishing center. Whole fleets of traders come out
from there to the fishing banks in the North Sea. We are going to
stir them up a bit."

The outlines of the plot became every moment more clear.

"On what pretext?" I asked.

The Russian answered me without noticing that I was not so well
informed as himself.

"Oh, we shall find pretexts enough, you bet. For one thing, we shall
signal them to clear out of the way, and when they have their trawl
nets down and can't move! That will be lively. There will be a
collision or two, I shouldn't wonder."

"But isn't that against the rule of the road?"

Though not a seaman, I had always heard that a vessel in motion is
bound to avoid one that is at rest. I knew, moreover, that a
steamship was bound to make way for a sailing vessel.

Vassileffsky cursed the rule of the road.

"It will be a question of evidence," he exclaimed. "My word against a
dirty fisherman's. What do you say?"

I pretended to be thoroughly satisfied. Still, knowing what I did of
the Russian character, I had some hope that the Captain was boasting
in order to impress me, and that he would not really dare to run down
a British vessel within reach of the shores of England.

Our conversation was interrupted by a gun.

As the report died away, a junior officer ran down the companionway,
helter-skelter, and burst into the cabin.

"Something's up, sir," he cried to his commander. "They are signaling
from the Admiral's ship."

Vassileffsky darted up the steps and on to the bridge, and I
followed.

The Baltic fleet presented a striking spectacle. Every vessel was
busily reporting the signals from the flag ship, the launches were
dashing to and fro, and there was every sign of bustle and activity.

The signal officer read out Admiral Rojestvensky's order:

"The fleet will proceed to Libau to-day _en route_ to the East.
Anchors will be weighed at noon. By order of the Czar."

M. Auguste had failed me at last!

With the frightful boasts of Vassileffsky still ringing in my ears, I
felt that I must make one effort to stay its departure.

"This news compels me to return to Petersburg immediately," I told
the Captain. "Have the goodness to put me ashore at once."

For a moment or two the Russian made no answer. I glanced at him
curiously.

His face had gone suddenly livid. His limbs were trembling. He gave
me the dull look of a man stupefied by fear.

"The Japanese!" he ejaculated in a thick voice.

I seized him by the arm.

"Are you pretending?" I whispered.

He gave me a savage glance.

"It's true!" he said. "Those devils will be up to something. It's all
over with the fleet. No one believes we shall ever see Port Arthur."

Grave and pre-occupied, I went ashore and caught a fast train to
Petersburg.

It was late when I got to the little house on the Alexander Quay. The
faithful Breuil received me with a serious face.

"Fauchette is here," he announced.

"Fauchette?"

"Yes. She has some news for you."

"Let me see her."

I strode in front to my study, where I was immediately joined by the
maid, who appeared not a little alarmed.

I never like to see my assistants agitated.

"Sit down, my good girl," I said soothingly. "Do not be afraid; I
know what pains you take to serve me. Now, what is it?"

"Madame has dismissed me."

I had feared as much.

"On what grounds?"

"She gave none, except that she was leaving home."

I pricked up my ears.

"Did she tell you where she was going?"

"Yes, to her estates in the country."

"It was a lie, I suppose. She had come to suspect you, had she not?"

"Since Monsieur's escape, I fear yes."

"And have you ascertained----?"

"The Princess has left Petersburg by the midday train for----"

"For?" I broke in impatiently.

"For Berlin."

I rang the bell. Breuil appeared.

"Have you got the tickets?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

"And my dress as a pilot of the Kiel Canal?"

"It is packed."

"And what time does the next train leave?"

"In two hours from now."

"Good. And now, my children, we will have supper."




CHAPTER XXVIII

ON THE TRACK


As the really exciting moment of the protracted struggle drew near, I
summoned all my energies to meet it.

I alighted in Berlin armed only with two weapons, the passport made
out in the name of Petrovitch, and a fairly accurate knowledge of the
schemes, or at all events the hopes, of the German Government.

From the first beginning of my long investigation, all the clues I
had picked up had led steadily in one direction.

The great disorganized Empire of the Czar's, with its feeble-willed
autocrat, its insubordinate grand dukes, its rival ministers pulling
different ways, and its greedy officials whose country was their
pocket, had been silently and steadily enfolded in the invisible web
of German statecraft.

The brilliant personality of Wilhelm II had magnetized the
vacillating, timorous Nicholas. Count Bülow had courted the Russian
Foreign Office with the assiduous arts of a lover, and his wooing had
been crowned by complete success. Through Petrovitch the grand dukes
had been indirectly bribed, and the smaller fry like M. Auguste had
been bought outright. Even the Army and Navy had been cajoled, or
bought, or terrorized by pretended revelations of Japanese designs.

Russia had become a supple implement in the hands of the German
Kaiser, the sovereign who for nearly twenty years had been striving
toward one goal by a hundred different crooked paths.

It was evident that the unexplained disappearance of Petrovitch must
have struck consternation into his employers. I suspected that the
Princess Y---- had been summoned to Berlin to throw light on the
event, and possibly to be furnished with instructions which would
enable her to take over the dead man's work.

My position was now peculiarly difficult. I wished to get in touch
with the principals for whom Petrovitch had acted, but to avoid, if
possible, meeting any one who had known him personally.

Above all, I was determined not to risk an encounter with Sophia. She
knew that I was still alive, and I feared that her feminine
intuition, quickened by love, would penetrate through whatever
disguise I might adopt.

Under these circumstances I decided to begin by approaching Herr
Finkelstein, the head of the imperial Secret Service in Berlin.

This man was an old crony of mine. While a magnificent organizer of
espionage, he was a poor observer himself, and I had already
succeeded on one occasion in imposing myself on him under a false
identity.

I had brought with me the papers which I had obtained by bribery from
the police agent Rostoy, representing me as an inspector in the
secret police of the Russian Empire.

Wearing my pilot's dress, but carrying these and other papers in my
pocket, I presented myself at Finkelstein's office, and asked to see
him.

I was shown in first, as I had expected, to Finkelstein's secretary,
who asked me my business.

"I can tell that only to the Herr Superintendent himself," I said.

"If you will let him know that I have just come from Petersburg, I am
sure he will receive me."

The secretary seemed to think so too. He went straight into his
chief's room and came out immediately to fetch me in.

As soon as I found myself alone with the head of the German service,
I said quietly,

"I have brought you a message from M. Petrovitch."

"Petrovitch!" exclaimed the Superintendent, surprised out of his
usual caution. "But he is dead!"

"You have been misinformed," I replied in an assured tone.

Finkelstein looked at me searchingly.

"My informant does not often make mistakes," he observed.

"The Princess is deceived this time, however," was my retort.

It was a fresh surprise for the Superintendent.

"The Princess! Then you know?" He broke off short, conscious that he
was making an admission.

"The Princess Y---- having left Petersburg, it was natural to suppose
that she had come here to consult you," I answered modestly, not
wishing to appear too well informed.

Finkelstein frowned.

"You have not yet told me who you are," he reminded me.

I produced the forged papers.

"I am an inspector attached to the Third Section, as you will see. I
must inform you, however, that I am not here with the knowledge of my
superiors."

The German gave a glance at the papers, which were similar to others
which he must have had presented to him from time to time.

"That is all satisfactory," he said, as he returned them to me. "But
you say that you have a message from M. Petrovitch?"

"He had no opportunity of giving me any but this," I responded,
producing the passport.

This time Finkelstein seemed really satisfied.

"It is clear that you know something about him, at least," he
remarked. "I will listen to what you have to say."

"M. Petrovitch is confined in Schlüsselburg."

The name of the dreaded fortress, the last home of so many political
prisoners, caused Finkelstein a shock.

"_Gott im Himmel!_ You don't say so! How did he get there? Tell me
everything."

"He does not know from what quarter the blow came. The only person he
can think of who might have denounced him is the Princess herself."

"The Princess Y----?"

"Exactly."

The German looked incredulous.

"But they were hand in glove. The Princess was his best agent."

"True. Unfortunately there is always one source of danger where a
woman is concerned--she cannot control her affections. It appears
that M. Petrovitch ordered her to remove a certain Englishman, a spy
of some kind, who was giving trouble, and Madame Y---- was attached
to the fellow. She carried out her orders, but M. Petrovitch fears
that she has taken revenge on him."

Finkelstein gave a superior smile.

"I can dispose of that suspicion," he said confidently. "The
Princess did _not_ carry out her orders. The man you speak of--who is
the most dangerous and unprincipled scoundrel in the world--has
escaped, and we have lost all trace of him."

It was my turn to show surprise and alarm.

"What you tell me is appalling! I ought to see the Princess as soon
as possible. If what she says is true, it must be the Englishman who
has brought about Petrovitch's arrest."

"He is no Englishman," the Superintendent returned. "He is an
American, a Pole, a Frenchman, whatever you please. That man has been
at the bottom of all the troubles in Europe for the last twenty
years. I have employed him myself, sometimes, so I ought to know
something about him."

I listened with an interest that was not feigned to this character of
myself. It was, all the same, a lie that Finkelstein had ever
employed me; on the contrary, I had been called in by his imperial
master to check his work.

"Then what is to be done?" I asked, as the German finished speaking.
"M. Petrovitch sent me here to warn you against the Princess, and to
demand your influence to secure his release."

"That will be a difficult matter. I shall have to consult the
Minister. In the meantime, where can I find you?"

I mentioned the name of a hotel.

"And the Princess Y----? Where can I see her?"

"I expect that she has left for Kiel," said the Superintendent. "She
has volunteered to carry out the plan originally proposed by
Petrovitch."

"Then in that case you will not require my services?" I said, with an
air of being disappointed. "M. Petrovitch thought you might find me
useful in his place."

"I must consult others before I can say anything as to that," was the
cautious reply.

He added rather grudgingly,

"I did not know M. Petrovitch myself, you see. It was thought better
that he should not come to Berlin."

This statement relieved me of a great anxiety. I now saw my way to
take a bolder line.

"So I understood, sir. But I did not venture to approach his majesty
except through you."

Finkelstein started again, and gave me a new look of curiosity.

"Who authorized you to mention the Emperor?"

I tried to play the part of a man who has made an unintentional slip.

"I spoke too quickly. Petrovitch informed me--that is to say, I
supposed--" I broke down in feigned confusion.

I knew inquisitiveness to be the Superintendent's besetting sin,
and, up to a certain point, I had an interest in tempting him on.

"You appear to be more in the confidence of M. Petrovitch than you
are willing to admit," he said sagely. "Up to the present you have
not explained how he came to make you his messenger."

I leaned back with a faint smile.

"I imagine you are quite astute enough to guess my secret, if you
choose, Herr Finkelstein. But you must excuse me if I am a little
careful whom I trust, especially after the behavior of Princess
Y----."

"You are M. Petrovitch himself! Of course! I thought as much all
along," Finkelstein said with a smile of triumph. "Well, you are
certainly right to be cautious; but, as you see, it is not easy to
deceive an old hand like myself."

"At all events you will be at least equally cautious, I hope. What
you tell me about this international spy being still at large has
disturbed me a good deal, I confess."

"Make your mind easy," the German returned with a patronizing air.
"We are in Berlin here, not in Petersburg. This gentleman will not
venture within my reach, I assure you."

I professed every satisfaction with this guarantee, and took my
leave.




CHAPTER XXIX

AN IMPERIAL FANATIC


I was now to face Wilhelm II.

It was solely for this purpose that I had come to Berlin. But I knew
the great advantage of getting myself vouched for in advance by a
third party, and therefore I had been anxious to convince Finkelstein
of my identity in the first place, so that his master might accept me
without inquiry as to whether I was the man I claimed to be.

I dined quietly in my hotel, a small tavern in a back street. It was
getting late, and I was on the point of going to bed, when I heard
the noise of a motor rushing up and stopping suddenly outside the
little inn.

An aide-de-camp burst in upon me.

"Your name, sir?" he demanded in a whisper.

"Petrovitch," I replied in the same tone.

"Come this way, if you please."

In less than a minute I was seated in the car, which was dashing at a
really dangerous pace through the nearly deserted streets.

"I am taking you to Potsdam," was all the explanation my companion
thought necessary.

It did not take us long to reach the famous palace of Frederick the
Great, which the growth of Berlin has almost turned into a suburban
residence.

My conductor brought me past all the sentries and servants, and led
me down some steps into what seemed to be a subterranean hall. It was
decorated with statues and paintings of the ancestors of Wilhelm II.,
together with weapons, suits of armor, and banners of the successive
periods in which they lived.

But the most striking object in the hall or crypt--for it might have
been either--was a trophy erected on a species of altar at one end,
exhibiting a variety of crowns.

At the foot were a number of small coronets, representing those worn
by the former Margraves of Brandenburg, in whom the Hohenzollern
family took its rise. Above were ranged the crowns of the Kings of
Prussia, that of Frederick the Great being in the center. Still
higher rose the three imperial crowns of Germany, those of William
I., Frederick III., and the present Emperor. And then, right on the
summit, came a still more gorgeous object, whose like I had never
seen before.

It was a colossal miter, somewhat after the fashion of the Papal
tiara, wrought out of pure gold, thickly studded with great pearls,
and surmounted by a cross.

But I had barely time to notice this singular display. As my guide
left me on the threshold of the hall, I was aware that I stood in the
presence of the German Emperor.

This extraordinary monarch, whose great and far-reaching views are
combined with a type of extravagance which has long made him looked
upon as the _enfant terrible_ of Europe, was about to teach me a new
side of his character.

He received me seated in a small ivory chair like a throne, and
attired in a garment of pontifical design.

"Advance, M. Petrovitch," he commanded in a loud voice.

As I stood in front of him, he said theatrically,

"I receive you in the Hall of the Hohenzollerns. You see around you
the sacred memorials of the family which Providence has raised up to
be the saviors of Europe, and the future rulers of the world."

In response to this invitation I took a longer and more comprehensive
view of the various objects already described. The Kaiser
condescended to point some of them out to me with a long two-handed
sword which he held.

I began to suspect seriously that the megalomania which has always
formed one of Wilhelm's characteristic traits, was overpowering his
good sense.

"M. Petrovitch," my august cicerone proceeded, "you see there the
crowns which have been won and worn by my illustrious and
never-to-be-forgotten ancestors. Can you guess the meaning of the
diadem above--which I have designed myself?

"That," declared the last and most remarkable of the Hohenzollerns,
"is intended to be worn by that member of my Family who shall be
called by the united voice of the other sovereigns to the supreme
world monarchy. It is destined to be our Planetary Crown."

I bowed in stupefaction. The Kaiser seemed pleased with the
impression he had made.

"And now," he said, "since it is necessary that I should be sure of
you before I trust you with my plans, kneel down."

I knelt, feeling as if I were in a dream. Wilhelm II. solemnly held
out the hilt of his two-handed sword:--

"You swear to yield faith, loyalty and utter obedience now and
henceforth to Almighty God, and the Head of the Hohenzollerns!"

It being impossible to refuse the oath in the circumstances, I kissed
the sword, with a mental reservation.

Wilhelm II. surprised me by thereupon laying it across my shoulders.

"I dub thee knight of the Sacred Order of the Hohenzollerns! Arise."

I got up, thoroughly confused. The Emperor invited me to be seated,
and proceeded to deliver a harangue--for it was nothing less.

"Bismarck had not sufficient genius to see the destiny of the
Hohenzollerns. With the vision of a mere German Junker, he looked on
Russia as the enemy.

"It is I who have changed all that. I have taught the Czar to look to
me for guidance and protection. Should the present revolutionary
movement become dangerous, I shall march at the head of my army to
the rescue, and reinstate the Romanoffs as my vassals.

"The only obstacle in the path of the Hohenzollerns is an island
which two of my Army Corps could subdue in a fortnight. But in order
to invade it with safety, I must have France on my side.

"It is for this end that I have been working. France cherishes a
grudge against me because of the glorious exploits of my immortal
grandfather. Moreover, my uncle, Edward VII., has contrived to win
the friendship of the Republicans.

"But France is the ally of Russia, and if Russia is attacked, France
must draw the sword on her behalf.

"You understand?--with the first shot which is fired by a British
warship on the Russian flag, I shall be able to invade England."

I understood indeed. Briefly and plainly Wilhelm II. had summed up
the result of my own inquiries and reasonings.

"It is you," the Emperor proceeded, "who have undertaken to secure
this result."

I bowed, intensely desirous to know exactly what it was that
Petrovitch had pledged himself to do.

"I have just rewarded you for the services you have already rendered,
by admitting you to my Family Order, an order which I intend shall
take precedence of the Golden Fleece, and even the Garter. Should you
carry out your present task to my satisfaction I shall consider no
reward too great for you."

I trembled as I listened to this wild vaporing. If such were the
private thoughts of the Kaiser, no wonder some of his public
utterances smacked of the visionary.

I could not doubt that he was thoroughly in earnest. Long brooding on
the greatness of his ancestors, and his own importance as the sole
European ruler who has kings for his satellites, had filled him with
the fanatical spirit of a Mohammed or a Hildebrand. He believed,
firmly and sincerely believed, that Providence had called him to the
sovereignty of the globe, and authorized him to sweep every rival out
of his path.

"Your majesty overwhelms me," I murmured. "Consider, sire, that to be
your servant is in itself an honor so great that no other reward is
necessary."

The Kaiser smiled graciously.

"Well, now, M. _de_ Petrovitch----" his majesty emphasized the
particle by way of reminding me that I was now a knight of the
important Order of Hohenzollern--"let us discuss your next step."

I seized the opportunity to obtain the information I was so anxious
to secure.

"I should feel it presumptuous to enter into anything like a
discussion with you, sire. If your majesty will be gracious enough to
impart your criticism on my proposal?"

Wilhelm II. looked at me as though he found me to be a person of much
good sense.

"Your idea, my dear de Petrovitch, as I understand it, is to provoke
the British to reprisals by some outrage on the part of the Baltic
Fleet during its passage to the Far East.

"Unfortunately, as you must see, the British are determined not to be
provoked. Remember what has been done already. You have captured and
sunk their ships, in violation of international law; you have sent
out volunteer cruisers from the Black Sea in defiance of treaties,
and turned back their mail steamers with government stores on board.

"What has been the result? The English Government has complained to
yours; the Czar has ordered explanations to be given, and the thing
has blown over.

"This time there must be something more than that. There must be
something which cannot be explained away. We must if possible place
Nicholas II., as well as Great Britain, in a position from which
neither can retreat without loss of honor.

"To this end it is necessary that the Baltic Fleet should commit an
act of war, and that the Czar should be convinced that the
provocation has come from the English side. Do you understand?"

I recalled the hints dropped by Captain Vassileffsky at Revel.

"Your majesty has been informed perhaps that I have caused the
officers and men of the Fleet to believe that they will find Japanese
torpedo boats lying in wait for them among the English fishing
vessels in the North Sea. In consequence, they will be ready to fire
without waiting to see if the torpedo boats are really there,
especially if the fishermen fail to retire as the Fleet approaches."

The Kaiser shook his head.

"All that is leaving too much to chance, my good de Petrovitch. What
is required is something more positive. In short, the torpedo boats
must really be there."

I lifted my eyes to his.

"There is not a Japanese torpedo boat within ten thousand miles of
the North Sea, unfortunately."

Wilhelm II. smiled a meaning smile.

"If that is all, we must so far forget the duties of neutrality as to
allow the friends of Japan to procure a craft suitable for the
purpose from our dockyard at Kiel."




CHAPTER XXX

THE STOLEN SUBMARINE


As the full extent of this audacious plot was laid bare before my
eyes I had a difficulty in believing in its reality.

I was obliged to remind myself of some of the maneuvres which have
marked German statecraft in the recent past, of the forgeries and
"reinsurance" treaties of Bismarck, of the patronage extended to
Abdul Hamid, of the secret intrigue that brought about the disasters
of Greece.

If I had had any scepticism left, the Emperor would have dispelled it
by the clear and business-like explanations which followed.

His majesty produced a chart of the North Sea, showing the coasts of
Great Britain and Germany, with the Kiel Canal and so forth. Half-way
between the opposite shores a dotted outline marked the situation of
the great shoals which attract the fish, and from which the harvests
of the sea are gathered by the brave and industrious toilers of
Grimsby, Hull, and many another port.

From the northern point of Denmark, two lines in red ink were drawn
right down the map to where the North Sea narrows into the Straits of
Dover.

The first of these lines was fairly direct, passing about thirty
miles to the eastward of the great fishing grounds.

The second line took a wide curve to the west, and crossed right over
the center of a shoal marked "Dogger Bank."

The Kaiser proceeded to explain.

"This is a duplicate of the charts used by the pilots of the North
Sea. I have offered my brother Nicholas as a special favor the
services of German pilots, and they will board the vessels of the
Baltic Fleet as soon as it leaves Danish waters.

"As you see, the right course would take the fleet a long way off the
English fishing-boats. But the pilots who go on board will receive
secret orders at the last moment to take the Russian ships over the
Dogger Bank, and, if possible, into the very midst of any fishing
fleet that may be there.

"Then all that is required is that you should be on the spot, and
should fire the first shot from the midst of the fishing-boats."

I endeavored to preserve a calm demeanor.

"May I suggest to your majesty that the presence of a torpedo boat
among them is likely to arouse suspicion beforehand. The English
sailors have keen eyes."

"I have thought of that. It will be necessary for you to have a
submarine."

"A submarine, sire!"

"Certainly. I have had six submarine torpedo boats built by my own
designs at Kiel since this war broke out, for use in defending the
approaches to the Canal.

"These boats are now lying in the inner harbor, all fitted out and
ready for sea.

"You will take one, with a crew of your own, whom you must enlist
secretly, and slip out through the Canal into the North Sea.

"You will proceed, keeping under the surface, till you reach the
Dogger Bank, and find yourself among the trawl nets of the English
fishermen.

"There you will wait till such time as the Russian ships come up.

"As soon as the right moment has arrived, you will rise to the
surface and discharge a torpedo. As soon as you have drawn the fire
of the Russians, and have seen an English fishing-boat struck, you
can go beneath the surface again, and make the best of your way back
to Kiel."

"Your plan is perfection itself, sire!" I exclaimed with an
admiration which was not wholly pretended, since the idea really was
not lacking in cleverness.

The Kaiser nodded good-humoredly.

"The Russians will never be persuaded they were not attacked first,
and the English will never pass over such an outrage in their own
waters," his majesty remarked complacently. "Lord Charles Beresford
will do the rest."

"I am ready to carry out your orders, sire. All I require is an
authority to take the submarine from Kiel."

The Kaiser frowned.

"Have you had any authority from me for anything you have done up to
the present, sir?" he demanded harshly.

As an answer in the negative was clearly expected, I gave it.

"Understand me, M. de Petrovitch, I repose every confidence in you;
but I should not have held this conversation with any man, even my
Chancellor, if I thought it could ever be used against me. If I gave
you the authority you ask for, I should not be able to deny that I
had ever employed you, in case of trouble."

"Then you propose, sire----?"

"I intend you to take this vessel secretly, without authority from me
or from any one else."

"And if I am caught in the act of taking it? If any of the naval
authorities question my movements?"

"You will not be caught. Your movements will not be questioned. I can
assure you of so much."

"I thank you, sire. That is quite sufficient."

I retired from the imperial presence, though not, as I have had some
reason to suspect, from the imperial observation. In other words, I
felt pretty well convinced that there would be a watch on my
movements till my task was over.

The same aide-de-camp awaited me outside the Hall of the
Hohenzollerns, and carried me back to my obscure hotel with the same
speed and silence as he had brought me.

The next morning I arose to find the papers filled with the news of
the departure of the Baltic Fleet from Libau.

The Russian Admiral, as if in obedience to the secret promptings of
Berlin, was reported as having issued a preposterous and illegal
warning that he should fire on any ship of any nation that presumed
to venture within reach of his guns. I could not help wondering what
would be thought of this proclamation in the British Admiralty.

There being no more for me to do in Berlin, I took the first train to
Kiel, the Portsmouth of Germany. Kiel itself, it will be remembered,
stands at the Baltic end of the famous canal which the present Kaiser
has had constructed for his warships to pass out to the North Sea
without going around Denmark.

It was late when I arrived, but I determined to lose no time in
seeing how far the secret orders of the Kaiser extended.

Accordingly, as soon as I had dined, I went out and took my way
toward the government dockyard.

The entrance to the dockyard was guarded by a sentry with fixed
bayonet. Behind him I saw a large iron gate which appeared to be
heavily barred, with a small postern at one side, which was also
closed.

I advanced toward the sentry, expecting every moment to hear a
challenge ring out. To my genuine astonishment, nothing of the kind
occurred. The sentry did not pay the slightest attention to me, but
went on pacing to and fro as though I had been wearing a cap of
invisibility.

I went up to the postern door, and tried the handle. It opened at a
touch, and I found myself alone in the deserted dockyard.

For some time I groped my way forward by the light of the few
scattered electric lights, till I reached the edge of a large basin
which appeared to communicate with the outer harbor of Kiel.

Turning the opposite way, I went along the edge of the wharf, picking
my way among timber balks, stacks of iron sheeting, chains, ropes,
and all the other things that are found scattered about a naval
dockyard.

At the head of the great basin I found a lock giving access to a
small inner dock, in which a number of vessels were moored.

I made my way around, searching everywhere for the vessels I had been
told I should find.

At last, in the farthest and most secluded corner, I perceived a row
of small craft, shaped much like a shark, with a long narrow tube or
funnel rising up from the center of each.

They lay low in the water, without being submerged. Alone among the
shipping they carried no riding-lights. They appeared dark, silent,
and deserted.

Almost unconsciously I ran my eye along them, counting them as they
lay. Suddenly I was aroused to keen attention.

One--two--three--four--five. The Kaiser had assured me that I should
find six submarines to choose from!

I counted once more with straining eyes.

_One_--_two_--_three_--_four_--_five_.

One of the mysterious craft had been taken away!




CHAPTER XXXI

THE KIEL CANAL


It was impossible to resist the conclusion suggested by the absence
of the sixth submarine.

I was not the only person who had been authorized, or rather
instructed, to carry out the design against the Baltic Fleet. My
august employer had thought it better to have two strings to his bow.

Who, then, was the person by whom I had been anticipated?

To this question an answer suggested itself which I was tempted to
reject, but which haunted me, and would not be dismissed.

The Princess Y---- had arrived in Berlin twelve hours before me. She
had come, fully believing that Petrovitch was dead, and prepared to
take his place.

She had interviewed Finkelstein, as I knew. Was it not possible that
she, also, had been received in the crypt at Potsdam, had been shown
the chart of the North Sea, with its ominous red lines, and had
accepted the task of launching one of the submarines on its fatal
errand?

In spite of all the stories which had been told me of Sophia's daring
and resource, in spite of my own experiences of her adventures and
reckless proceedings, I did not go so far as to credit her with
having proceeded to sea in the missing craft.

But it struck me as altogether in keeping with her character that she
should have arranged for the withdrawal of the boat, provided it with
a crew, and despatched it fully instructed as to the work to be done.

But whether these suspicions were well founded or otherwise, of one
thing there could be no doubt. A submarine had been taken by some
one, and was now on its way to the North Sea, to lie in wait for the
ships of Admiral Rojestvensky.

This discovery entirely changed the position for me.

I had come down to Kiel intending to take a submarine out to sea, to
watch for the approach of the Russian fleet, and to take whatever
steps proved practicable to avert any collision between it and the
fishing-boats on the Dogger Bank.

I now saw that the chance of my preventing a catastrophe depended
entirely on the movements of the boat which had left already. This
boat had become my objective, to use a strategical phrase.

Somewhere in the North Sea was a submarine boat, charged with the
mission of provoking a world-wide war. And that boat I had to find.

There was no time to be lost. I hastened back by the most direct way
I could find, to the dockyard gates. The little postern was still
unlocked, and I passed out, the sentry again taking no notice of my
passage.

But at the first street corner I saw a man in seafaring dress who
fixed a very keen gaze on me as I came up, and saluted me by touching
his cap.

"Good-night," I said in a friendly voice, slowing down in my walk.

"Good-night, sir. Beg pardon, Captain,"--he came and moved along
beside me--"but you don't happen to know of a job for a seafaring
man, I suppose?"

I stopped dead, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"How many men do you estimate are required to navigate a submarine?"
I asked.

"Fifteen," was the prompt answer.

"How soon can you have them here?" was my next question.

The fellow glanced at his watch.

"It's half-past eleven now, Captain. I could collect them and bring
them here by half-past one."

"Do it, then," I returned and walked swiftly away.

The whole thing, it was evident, had been prearranged, and I did not
choose to waste time in mock negotiations.

I went back to my inn to wait, but there was nothing for me to do,
except examine the cartridges in my revolver. I was not quite sure
how much my crew had been told, and I thought it just possible that I
might have some trouble with them when they found out the nature of
my proceedings.

Punctually at the hour fixed I returned to the street outside the
dockyard, where I found fifteen men assembled.

Glancing over them, I formed the opinion that they were picked men,
on whom I could have relied thoroughly for the work I had been
ordered to do, but who might be all the more likely to mutiny if they
suspected that I was playing false.

I stood in front of them in the silence of the street.

"Now, my men, if there is any one of you who is not prepared to obey
me, even if I order him to scuttle the ship, let him fall out before
we start."

Not a man stirred. Not an eyelash quivered. The German discipline had
done its work.

"I give you notice that the first man who hesitates to carry out my
orders will be shot."

The threat was received with perfect resignation.

"Follow me."

I turned on my heel, and led the way to the dockyard gates, the men
marching after me with a regular tramp which could only have been
acquired on the deck of a man-of-war.

The sentry was, if possible, more indifferent to our approach than
he had been when I had been alone. I threw open the wicket, and bade
the last man close it.

Then we marched in the same order to the place where the five
submarines were moored.

"I am going on board one of these boats," I announced. "Find
something to take us off."

The man whom I had engaged originally, taking on himself the part of
mate, repeated my directions. A large whale-boat was found tied up in
a convenient spot beside the wharf.

We all got in, and I took the tiller. The mate, who answered to the
Russian name of Orloff, though the only language I heard him speak
was German, said nothing till I brought the whale-boat alongside of
the nearest submarine.

"I beg pardon, Captain, but I have a fancy that the boat at the far
end is in better trim, if you have no choice."

"Why didn't you tell me so at once?" I returned sharply, not too well
pleased to find him so well informed.

We boarded the submarine pointed out, and found it, of course,
provided with everything necessary for an immediate departure,
including provisions for a week.

"You understand the navigation of the Canal, I suppose?" I inquired
of Orloff.

"I do, sir."

"Very good. Take the boat through. And ascertain all that you can
about another submarine which must have passed through yesterday.
Wake me if you hear or see anything."

I lay down in the captain's berth and tried to sleep. But the
excitement and, I may say, the romantic interest of the adventure
proved too strong for me.

I rose again, and came to where my deputy was seated, carefully
conning the boat out of the dockyard basin into the Baltic end of the
great Canal.

We were already submerged, only the tip of our conning staff being
out of the water. But by an ingenious system of tiny mirrors the
steersman was able to see his way as plainly as if he had been on
deck above the surface.

On approaching the lock by which the basin opened into the Canal, no
signal appeared to be given. Silently, as if of their own accord, the
huge sluices opened and shut, and we glided out into the great
waterway which has made the German Navy independent of Danish
good-will.

The voyage along the Kiel Canal in the silence of the night was
deeply interesting, and were I not obliged to restrict myself
severely to the naked outline of such facts as bear directly on the
catastrophe, I should like to attempt a description of the weird and
picturesque scene.

Keeping steadily just under the surface, we proceeded swiftly past
ports and villages and lonely wharves, till the stars paled and
disappeared and a faint flush overspreading the sky in front warned
us that day was breaking behind us.

I searched the banks for anything resembling the craft of which I was
in search, but in vain. We passed many other ships, chiefly
merchantmen bound for Lubeck and Dantzig and other Baltic ports, but
of course without being perceived ourselves.

When we reached the mouth of the Canal, I ordered Orloff to stop.

"I must go ashore here, and inquire about the other boat," I
explained.

I saw from the expression of his face that this step was not quite to
his liking, but he did not venture on any remonstrance.

He brought the boat alongside the bank, and raised her gently to the
surface, to enable me to step on shore.

But my quest proved useless, as perhaps I ought to have foreseen.

The harbor-master, or port captain, to whom I addressed myself,
affected the most entire ignorance of the exit of any submarine
within the last week or more.

"What you suggest is impossible," he assured me. "Every submarine is
well known and carefully guarded, and if one had been permitted to
leave Kiel by way of the Canal, I should have been notified in
advance. No such notification has reached me, and therefore, as you
will see, no such boat can possibly have left."

I suspected that he was lying, but I thought it unsafe to persist.

It occurred to me too late that I had been guilty of some imprudence
in showing so much anxiety on the subject. It was only too probable
that my inquiries would be reported to the Kaiser, who would draw his
own inferences in the event of anything going wrong.

I returned on board my own boat, saying nothing to Orloff, and gave
the order to proceed.

Orloff had handed over the wheel to one of his subordinates, who
steered the submarine out into the blue waters of the North Sea.

As soon as we were well out of reach of the Slesvig shore, I said to
the steersman,

"Now I will take the helm."

Instead of promptly relinquishing it to me, the man turned his head
in search of Orloff, saying at the same time,

"Do you understand the course, sir?"

I saw that if I meant to be master of the vessel, I must prove that
my words of the night before were spoken in earnest. I drew my
revolver, and put a bullet through the mutineer's head.




CHAPTER XXXII

THE DOGGER BANK


The sound of the explosion reverberated through the little craft like
thunder. Orloff and half a dozen more men came rushing up.

"This man disobeyed me," I said, quietly, slipping a fresh cartridge
into the smoking chamber of my revolver. "Throw the body overboard,
and return to your duties."

What instructions Orloff and his men had received it was impossible
for me to guess. But they clearly did not authorize any breach of
discipline at this stage of the voyage.

Without the slightest demur they lifted up the body, and carried it
off. I had learned the way to manage the submarine by watching Orloff
during the night, and I now pressed a lever which brought us swiftly
to the surface. There was a sound of trampling feet overhead,
followed by a splash, and I saw the mutineer's body drift past.

It would be idle to seek for words in which to describe the
overpowering anxiety which racked my nerves as we tore through the
water. The peace of Europe, the safety of Japan and Great Britain,
perhaps the future of the world, might be at stake.

Everything depended on my finding the other submarine before it had
launched its bolt against the great war fleet which was even now
steaming through the Danish Belts, officered by men, some of whom I
knew to be ready to take advantage of any pretext for outraging the
peace of the seas.

It did not take me long to decide that the neighborhood of the Dogger
Bank was the most likely place, in fact the only place, for my
search.

I am not wholly unskilled in navigation, having given up a good deal
of my spare time to yachting. With the aid of a chart which was on
board, I had little difficulty in keeping a fairly straight course
for the famous fishing ground.

On the way I did not neglect the opportunity of acquiring a complete
command over the movements of the submarine.

It was driven by electricity, and so designed that by means of
various knobs, one man could control it entirely, steering it,
raising or lowering it in the water, increasing or slackening speed,
stopping, backing, and even discharging the torpedo which was its
only weapon of attack--with the exception of a small sharp ram at the
bow.

Having asserted my authority, and acquired the practical knowledge I
needed, I at last called Orloff to me, and gave him the wheel.

"Take me to the Dogger Bank. Warn me as soon as we get near any
fishing-boats, and above all keep a careful lookout for our consort."

It was by this name that I thought it most prudent to refer to the
object of my search.

Orloff took the wheel, and said immediately with an air of great
respect,

"You have laid a marvelously straight course, Captain. I was not
aware that you were familiar with these waters. The Dogger Bank is
right ahead, and we shall reach it in less than an hour."

An hour later I was conscious of a light shock as the submarine
stopped.

We had grounded on the sandy shoal of the Dogger, in twenty fathoms
of water, and overhead I could see great black shadows sweeping
slowly past.

They were cast by the trawlers of the Gamecock fleet.

It being still daylight I did not venture to let the submarine show
itself on the surface of the sea.

Hugging the bottom, I steered in and out among the great trailing
nets of the fisher fleet.

At the same time I ordered my crew to keep a sharp watch for the
first submarine, promising fifty marks[B] to the man who sighted her.

[Footnote B: A silver mark is about twenty cents of our money.]

The rest of that day passed without anything happening.

As soon as darkness fell I brought my boat up to the surface, partly
in order to renew the air supply, and partly to scan the horizon in
search of the oncoming Russian fleet.

But thanks to the promptness with which I had gone out to sea I had
anticipated Rojestvensky by twenty-four hours. The Baltic Fleet was
still in Danish waters, waiting to pick up the German pilots who were
to lure it from its course.

Finding there were no signs of the Russians, I submerged the
submarine, all except the little conning tube, which was invisible in
the darkness, and ran in among the English smacks.

As I heard the brave, hardy fishermen talking to one another, the
temptation was a strong one to disclose myself, and warn them of the
coming peril.

Only my experience of the uselessness of such warnings restrained me.
I knew that these simple, law-abiding citizens would laugh me in the
face if I told them that they were in danger from the warships of a
foreign Power.

As my unseen vessel glided softly past the side of one fishing-boat,
whose name I could just make as the _Crane_, I overheard a few scraps
of conversation, which threw a pathetic light on the situation.

"We shall have the Rooshians coming along presently," said one voice.

"No," answered another, "they won't come anywhere near us. 'Tis out
of their course."

"They do say the Rooshians don't know much about seamanship," a third
voice spoke out. "Like as not we'll see their search-lights going
by."

"Well, if they come near enough, we'll give the beggars a cheer; what
d'ye say?"

"Aye, let's. Fair play's what I wishes 'em, and let the best man
win."

The words died away along the water, as I drew off and let my craft
sink under once again.

That night I slept soundly, making up for the vigil of the night
before. The submarine rested on the sea floor, in a hollow of the
undulating Bank, and one of the crew kept watch in case a "trawl"
should come too close.

But there was no sign of the mysterious companion which had come out
of Kiel Harbor in front of me, and was even now prowling somewhere in
the dark depths around.




CHAPTER XXXIII

TRAFALGAR DAY


In the morning I was conscious of a certain stir and display on board
some of the fishing boats among which I continued to lurk.

At first I supposed that the Baltic Fleet must have been sighted. But
in the course of the day I gathered from various cries and shouts
which were borne across the water, that the fishermen were keeping
the anniversary of the most glorious day in the history of England,
the day on which the immortal Nelson annihilated the united fleets of
France and Spain, and shattered the dream of the great Napoleon that
he could tame the haughty Island Power.

As long as daylight lasted I scoured the sea for a distance of five
miles all around the devoted fishing fleet, without coming on the
slightest trace of the other submarine.

A delusive hope assailed me that some accident might have overtaken
it. But I did not relax my vigilance, and when night fell I took up a
station about a mile in front of the English smacks, in the
direction from which I had reason to expect the approach of
Rojestvensky.

A few hours elapsed, then my watchfulness was rewarded.

Away down on the horizon toward the northeast, there glittered out a
row of twinkling lights, one behind the other, as though a lamp-lit
thoroughfare had got afloat and drifted out to sea.

The sinuous streak of lights, shifting as they approached like the
coils of some great water-snake, glided toward us at what seemed a
fearful speed, and as they drew near the white lights were
interspread with green and crimson points, like rubies and emeralds
set between rows of diamonds. And ever and anon the swift electric
tongues of the search-lights spat forth and licked the dark face of
the waters like hungry things.

Keeping my upper deck just awash, I lay still and beheld at last the
great black sides of the battleships tower up, pierced with
illuminated windows.

My heart began to throb wildly. If only the other submarine failed to
appear; if only the English fishermen would realize their danger and
flee in time, disaster might be averted.

The hope had scarcely formed itself in my mind when Orloff, who had
come to repose confidence in me, respectfully touched my arm and
pointed ahead.

Not two hundred yards from me, stealing along about a mile in advance
of the Russian fleet, I perceived a small dark object, showing hardly
a foot above the surface of the waves.

It was the rival submarine!

Instead of proceeding direct to the Dogger Bank, as I had done, the
other boat must have joined Admiral Rojestvensky's squadron, and come
on before it like a jackal pointing out the lion's prey.

"Go forward," I commanded the German mate. "Let no one disturb me
till this business is over."

Orloff gave me a wondering look, but obeyed without an instant's
hesitation.

As soon as his back was turned, I swung the wheel around, put on the
full power of the engines, and went after the craft I had been
searching for during the last forty-eight hours.

Had the commander of the other submarine noticed mine, and did he
suspect my intention to frustrate his design? It almost seemed so.
His boat, scarcely visible in the gloom, fled in front of me to where
the foremost fishing boats were riding lazily over the shoals,
dragging their nets along the bottom.

It was a weird chase. Neither of us showed a glint of light, or made
the smallest sound. Like two great shadowing fish we darted through
the depths of the sea, hunter and hunted.

In between the sagging nets with their load of cod and flounders,
shot the phantom boat I was pursuing, and I followed, obliged to
slacken speed as we twisted in and out under the keels of the
unconscious fishermen.

And all this time the huge warships in two lines astern were plunging
through the seas, heading straight for the unfortunate smacks.

The chase seemed to be aware that it was a case of now or never. I
was catching up with it fast; I was able to mark its course by the
broken water churned up by its propeller; when, all at once, I saw it
rise with the swift motion of a bird.

I had no alternative but to do the same.

As I emerged upon the surface I found my boat in the very center of
the full glare of a search-light which lit up the whole scene with
dazzling radiance.

Fresh from the depths below, where all had been dark, my eyes fairly
blinked in the sudden splendor of light.

Then, for what might have been from three to five seconds, I saw
everything that passed.

The foremost vessels of the Russian fleet had already gone past the
group of drifting trawlers. One large cruiser was passing within a
stone's-throw of the nearest fishing-boat, and the English fishermen
were playfully holding up some of their freshly-caught fish, as
though offering it to the Russian sailors.

Another line of warships was coming up behind, with its search-lights
thrown out in front.

And then, right across the range of lights, and in a straight line
between the Russian battleships and the English smacks, I saw the
phantom torpedo boat pass deliberately, as high out of the water as
she could show.

What happened next took place so swiftly, and with such confusion
that I cannot pretend to describe it with accuracy.

Shouts rang out on some of the Russian ships, the submarine headed
around as though to seek refuge among the trawlers, and then a gun
was fired, and a cannon-ball struck the water within a few feet of
me.

All at once, it seemed to me, and as though by some preconcerted
plan, half the ships of the Baltic Fleet opened fire on the English
fishermen, who seemed too surprised and horrified to do anything. I
saw ball after ball crash into one luckless smack, which quickly
began to fill and sink. But, generally speaking, the marksmanship of
the Russians was too wild for the firing to have serious effect.

As soon as I realized that I had become a mark for the Russian guns I
sank beneath the surface. It is no doubt this voluntary move on my
part which has given rise to the belief cherished by some of the
officers of the Baltic Fleet, and indorsed by Admiral Rojestvensky,
that a torpedo boat was sunk by their fire.

But I knew that the massacre--for it was nothing less--would go on as
long as the other submarine remained on the surface, mixing among the
luckless fishing boats with the deliberate intention of drawing on
them the Russian fire.

I marked her course, put my engines to their fullest speed one more,
and rushed after her.

This time my coming was not watched by the hostile commander. Like
Admiral Rojestvensky, he may have believed that my boat had been sunk
by the ball which had come so close. Or else, perhaps, in his
exultation at having brought about an event which seemed to make war
inevitable, he had forgotten his former fears.

But the truth will never be known.

I brought my own boat right under the demon craft, and then, tilting
her up at a sharp angle, rammed the other in the center of her keel.

There was a concussion, a muffled sound of tearing iron, and as I
backed away at full speed astern, I saw the waters of the North Sea
pour through a long jagged rent in the bottom of the doomed
submarine, and watched her go down staggering like a wounded vulture
through the air.

The shock of the collision had brought Orloff and the rest of my crew
running aft.

"An accident," I explained coolly. "I have sunk some boat or other in
the dark."

The men exchanged suspicious glances.

"It was the other submarine, sir," said Orloff, still preserving his
respectful tone. "Will you permit us to see whether it is possible to
save any of the crew?"

"Do as you please," I returned, leaving the helm. "My work here is
done, and I am ready to go back."

I intended them to think I referred to the attack on the
fishing-boats. The cannonade died away as I spoke.

We went down through the water to where the wrecked submarine was
lying half over on her side. Some frightened faces peered at us out
of the upper portholes, where a supply of air still lingered.

It was impossible to do anything for them down there without being
swamped ourselves. We could only invite them by signs to forsake
their own craft and let us carry them up to the surface where it
would be safe for us to take them inside.

In order to receive them on our upper deck we circled slowly around
to the opposite side of their vessel. And there I beheld a sight
which will haunt me for years to come.

The whole side of the submarine had been wrenched open, revealing the
interior of the cabin. And on the floor, lying in the peaceful
attitude of one who had just resigned herself to sleep, I beheld the
drowned form of the beautiful, desperate, perhaps wicked, but
unhappy, woman from whose mad love I had fled.

So, in the midst of the wild North Sea, in their strange coffin, the
bones of Sophia, Princess Yernoloff, lie and rock on the incessant
tides that sweep across the Dogger Bank.

_Requiescat in pace!_

As our boat, laden with the rescued survivors, shot up again to the
surface, I felt a noosed rope drawn tightly around my throat and
heard the voice of Orloff hiss in my ear,

"I arrest you in the name of the Kaiser!"




CHAPTER XXXIV

THE FAMILY STATUTE


My task is done. At last the reader knows all that ever will be
known--all there is to know, in short--concerning the tragedy of the
North Sea.

My personal adventures can possess little interest after the
all-important transactions I have had to describe. But in case there
should be a reader here and there who is good enough to feel any
curiosity as to my fate, I will briefly tell what followed on my
arrest.

My revolver was taken from me and I was conducted under a strict
guard back to Kiel.

Off the mouth of the Canal we were boarded by a despatch-boat flying
the German naval ensign, and a police officer with three men took me
off the submarine.

The first proceeding of my new captor was to handcuff me. He then
warned me,

"If you speak a single word to me or any one else till you are in the
imperial presence, my orders are to shoot you through the head."

I nodded. I had as little wish to speak as the Emperor could have to
let me. My thoughts were busy with the memory of the woman of whose
tragic death I had been the unwitting cause, and with the measures
that remained to be taken to extenuate, so far as extenuation was
possible, the fatal action of the Baltic fleet.

As for myself, I can say truly that I had become almost indifferent
to what was in store for me. My feeling toward the unfortunate
Princess had not been such as that which makes a man desire a woman
for his wife; it had not deserved the name of love, perhaps; and it
was certainly free from any taint of a less noble passion.

Nevertheless it had been a powerful sentiment, colored and
strengthened by my knowledge of her love for me.

Sophia had loved me. She had saved my life. And I had taken hers in
return.

Must I accuse myself of weakness for feeling as if happiness for me
were over, and the best fate I could wish would be to lie there
beside my victim on the lonely Dogger sands?

When I came before Wilhelm II. he was not in the Hall of the
Hohenzollerns, indulging his vein of extravagant romance, but in his
private cabinet and in his most stern and business-like mood.

"Give the prisoner a chair, and wait outside," his majesty commanded
briefly.

I sat down, still handcuffed, and the guards withdrew.

"Now," said the Kaiser, fixing me with an eagle glance, "be good
enough to explain your proceedings."

I met his look with a steadfast one in return.

"I have carried out your majesty's orders scrupulously. I have taken
out the submarine torpedo boat, engaged a crew, proceeded to the
Dogger Bank, and drawn the fire of the Baltic Fleet on the
fishing-boats from Hull. I have not seen a newspaper since, but I
assume that the British Navy has already arrested Admiral
Rojestvensky and his squadron, and that the two Powers are at war."

The Kaiser gnawed his moustache.

"Things have not gone quite so well as you pretend, M. Petrovitch.

"The Russian cannonade ceased after a few minutes," the Emperor
resumed. "You did not remain on the surface after the first shot; you
did not launch your torpedo, neither did you permit the other
submarine to do so. In fact you sunk her."

"I had no orders with respect to another submarine, sire. I was
entitled to treat it as an enemy."

"Nonsense, you know that it had left Kiel before you, on the same
errand."

"On the contrary, sire, I could not possibly know anything of the
kind."

"Why, you saw it had disappeared from the dock. You inquired after
it along the Canal. When you got out to the Dogger you were searching
for it the whole time."

"And when I found it, sire, it was leading the Russian squadron, of
which it appeared to form part. I had every right to assume that it
was a Russian man-of-war."

"A German boat!" thundered the Kaiser.

"A boat not flying any flag must be presumed to belong to the country
of those who are in control of it. I found this submarine under the
control of a Russian subject."

"The Princess was my agent."

"Your majesty had not told me so. On the contrary, I understood that
you wished my own boat to be considered a Russian vessel, in case of
any question. I shipped a Russian crew therefore."

Wilhelm II. frowned angrily.

"Do not play with me, M. Petrovitch. I know all about your crew.
Explain why you, a Russian subject, should have attacked what you are
pleased to pretend was a Russian ship."

"I regret to have to say that your majesty is laboring under a
mistake. I am not a Russian subject."

This time the Kaiser was fairly taken aback.

"What subject are you?"

"A Japanese."

Wilhelm looked thunderstruck.

"Japanese!" was all he could say.

"If your majesty pleases. That being so, as soon as I took possession
of the submarine, with your permission, of course it became a
Japanese ship."

"What you tell me is monstrous--ridiculous. Your name is Russian,
your face is at least European."

"My name, sire, is Matsukata. I received it in Tokio at the
commencement of the war, on being adopted into a Japanese family.

"If your majesty doubts my statement, I ask to be confronted with the
Japanese Ambassador in Berlin."

The Kaiser looked as if he would have liked to doubt it, but found
himself unable to do so.

"Then on your own showing you are a Japanese spy," he pronounced
slowly. "As such I am entitled to have you shot."

"Pardon me again, sire. In Petersburg I admit, that was my character.
In Germany I have been your majesty's agent, and have literally
fulfilled your commands."

"You are a very acute quibbler, I see," was the retort, "but quibbles
will not save you. You have stolen one of my ships to sink another
with, and at the very least you deserve to be hanged as a pirate."

"I demand to be tried," I said boldly, knowing that this was the one
step to which the Emperor, for his own sake, could not consent.

As I expected, he frowned uneasily.

"In this case I must exercise my right of refusing a civil trial, in
the interest of the State. I will give you a court-martial with
closed doors."

"That would be illegal, sire."

"You dare to tell me so!"

"Your majesty will find I am right. The case falls within the
Hohenzollern Family Statute."

The Kaiser appeared stupefied.

"The Family Statute?" he repeated slowly, as if unable to believe his
ears. "What has the Statute to do with you?"

"It is provided in the Statute, if I recollect rightly, sire, that a
member of the Imperial Family can be tried only by his peers, that is
to say, by a court composed of members of your majesty's House."

"Well, and what then?"

"By another clause in the Statute--I regret that the number has
escaped my memory--the privileges of a Hohenzollern in that respect
are extended to members of other reigning Houses."

"What are you going to tell me?" Wilhelm II. demanded in amazement.

"Only that I have the honor to be the adopted son of his imperial
highness Prince Yorimo, cousin to his majesty the Emperor of Japan."

The German monarch sat still, unable to parry this unexpected blow.

"The Japanese Ambassador--" he began to mutter.

"Will confirm my statement, sire. I have already asked to be
confronted with him. Before going to Kiel, I sent him information of
my plans, so that he is already expecting to hear from me, I have no
doubt."

Wilhelm II. saw that he had come to the end of his tether. Lying back
in his chair, he ejaculated----

"I believed there was only one man in the two hemispheres who could
do things like this!"

"I am flattered to think you may be right, sire," I responded in my
natural voice, with a smile.

The Emperor bounded from his seat.

"You--are--Monsieur V----!" he fairly gasped out.

"I was, sire. Permit me to repeat that I am now called Prince
Matsukata of Japan."

Wilhelm II. made an effort, and came out of it with his best manner.

"Then, in that case, you will stay and lunch with the Empress and
myself, my dear Prince."

As soon as the handcuffs had been removed, I told the whole story to
the Kaiser, who was immensely interested, and decidedly touched by
the part which related to the drowned Princess.

Before leaving the Palace, I asked permission of my imperial host to
make use of his private wire for a message to London, in the interest
of peace.

Wilhelm II., who began to see that he had been betrayed into going a
little farther than was altogether desirable, consented in the
friendliest spirit, merely stipulating that he should be allowed to
see the message.

He was rather surprised when he found it was addressed to Lord Bedale
at Buckingham Palace, and comprised a single word, "Elsinore."

And so, although some of the newspapers in the two capitals of
England and Russia continued to breathe war for some days longer, I
felt no more anxiety after reading the paragraph which stated that
the British Prime Minister, at the close of the decisive Cabinet
Council, had driven to the Palace to be received in private audience
by her majesty Queen Alexandra.




EPILOGUE


As I write these lines the war which has cost so many brave lives,
and carried so much desolation through the fields and cities of
Manchuria is still raging.

The great fleet of Admiral Rojestvensky, from which the stains of the
innocent fisherman's blood have not yet been washed, is plowing its
way to meet a terrible retribution at the hands of the victorious
Togo.[C] A curse is on that fleet, and it may be that the British
Government foresaw that they could punish the crime of the Dogger
Bank more terribly by letting it proceed, than by bringing it into
Portsmouth to await the result of the international trial.

[Footnote C: These words, which have been proven prophetic, were
written last March, when Admiral Rojestvensky's fleet was still a
very formidable fact to be reckoned with.--EDITOR.]

In the great affairs of nations it is not always wise to exact strict
justice, or to expose the actual truth.

I, too, am a lover of peace. Not of that hysterical, sentimental
horror of bloodshed which would place a great civilized nation at the
mercy of more barbarous powers, which would stay the wheels of
progress, and be indistinguishable from cowardice in the face of
wrong.

But I am a friend of the peace which is the natural result of a
better understanding between peoples, of respect for one another's
character and aims, of a wise recognition of facts, and an honorable
determination not to play the part of the aggressor.

It is in the hope of promoting such a peace on earth, and such
good-will toward men, that I have allowed myself to publish the
foregoing narrative.

In order to soften the character of this revelation I have endeavored
to impart to it a character of romance.

So far as my abilities extend, I have sought to give the reader the
impression that he has been reading an allegory rather than a dry,
business record. I have tried to cover certain incidents with a
discreet veil. I have as much as possible refrained from using real
names.

I trust that my narration will be accepted in the spirit in which it
has been written and that no reader will allow his feelings of
curiosity to lead him into going further, or raising questions which
it might be indiscreet on my part to answer.

But there is one part of the story to which the foregoing remarks do
not apply.

Whatever else be mythical, there is nothing mythical about the
bright figure whose portrait has accompanied me through so many
perils. There is a home for me in far-off Tokio, and when the
blood-begrimed battalions of Asia sheathe their swords, I shall go
thither to claim my reward.

                         THE END




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  {5 Cruel as the Grave                 30 Fortune Seeker
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  {7 Fair Play                          32 Haunted Homestead
  {8 How He Won Her                     33 India; or, The Pearl on
  {9 Family Doom                            Pearl River
 {10 Maiden Widow                       34 Lady of the Isle, The
 {11 Hidden Hand, The                   35 Lost Heiress, The
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 {13 Ishmael                            37 Missing Bride, The
 {14 Self Raised                        38 Mother-in-Law
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 {16 Noble Lord, A                          Artist's Love
 {17 Unknown                            40 Retribution
 {18 Mystery of Raven Rocks             41 Three Beauties, The
  19 Bridal Eve, The                    42 Three Sisters, The
  20 Bride's Dowry, The                 43 Two Sisters, The
  21 Bride of Llewellyn, The            44 Vivian
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12 Mo, Cloth, Illustrated. Price 60c Each.


These stories touch upon nearly every sport in which the active boy
is interested. Baseball, rowing, football, hockey, skating,
ice-boating, sailing, camping and fishing all serve to lend interest
to an unusual series of books. There are the following four titles:

 =1. Jack Winters' Baseball Team; or, The
      Mystery of the Diamond.=
 =2. Jack Winters' Campmates; or, Vacation
      Days in the Woods.=
 =3. Jack Winters' Gridiron Chums; or, When
      the Half-back Saved the Day.=
 =4. Jack Winters' Iceboat Wonder; or, Leading
      the Hockey Team to Victory.=


 M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
 CHICAGO




TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

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otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's
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been used to note that the words enclosed were typeset in bold.







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