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diff --git a/old/67751-0.txt b/old/67751-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e75dfd5..0000000 --- a/old/67751-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10361 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of In the Cause of Freedom, by Arthur W. -Marchmont - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: In the Cause of Freedom - -Author: Arthur W. Marchmont - -Illustrator: Archie Gunn - -Release Date: April 1, 2022 [eBook #67751] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE CAUSE OF FREEDOM *** - - -[Illustration: “MY BACK AGAINST THE DOOR, MY HAND ON MY - REVOLVER.”--_Page 94._] - - - - - IN THE CAUSE - OF FREEDOM - - BY - ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT - - AUTHOR OF - “BY WIT OF WOMAN,” “THE QUEEN’S ADVOCATE,” - “A COURIER OF FORTUNE,” ETC. - - _With a frontispiece in colours by_ - ARCHIE GUNN - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY - ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT - APRIL, 1907 - - _All Rights Reserved_ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. A CHANCE MEETING 3 - - II. ON THE DEVIL’S STAIRCASE 14 - - III. VOLNA DRAKONA 25 - - IV. A HORSEDEALING TRANSACTION 37 - - V. AT PULTA 49 - - VI. VERY SISTERLY 59 - - VII. THE LUCK TURNS 69 - - VIII. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE COTTAGE 82 - - IX. A VERY TIGHT CORNER 93 - - X. THE HAG TO THE RESCUE 103 - - XI. FATHER AMBROSE 115 - - XII. “SHE IS BETROTHED” 125 - - XIII. VOLNA IS A LITTLE REFRACTORY 135 - - XIV. THE ARREST 145 - - XV. A TASTE OF PRISON LIFE 158 - - XVI. I GET A BIT OF MY OWN BACK 169 - - XVII. “DO YOU LOVE VOLNA DRAKONA?” 181 - - XVIII. FOR FRIENDSHIP’S SAKE 190 - - XIX. TURNING THE SCREW 200 - - XX. DEFIANCE 212 - - XXI. A BLANK OUTLOOK 223 - - XXII. POLICE METHODS 234 - - XXIII. SPY WORK 245 - - XXIV. BLACK MONDAY IN WARSAW 254 - - XXV. NO. 17, THE PLACE OF ST. JOHN 262 - - XXVI. THE TABLES TURNED 271 - - XXVII. THE PLAN PROSPERS 280 - - XXVIII. FLIGHT 289 - - XXIX. IN THE STREET OF ST. GREGORY 298 - - XXX. AFTER THE STORM 308 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -A CHANCE MEETING - - -“Do you mean to take me for a spy?” - -I had hard work to prevent myself laughing at the man to his face; -and it is no light matter to laugh at these self-satisfied, bullying -officials in Russian Poland. Some of them have too much power. - -“Do I understand that you refuse to answer my questions and shew me -your papers?” - -“And what if I do?” He had burst into my room in the little inn at -Bratinsk as I sat reading my paper over a cigar, and without any -preface had fired his questions at me with the peremptory incivility of -the average police agent. My temper had taken the intrusion badly. - -He shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. “I am a police agent -from Warsaw and must know your business in Bratinsk.” - -At that I saw light. I recalled a paragraph I had just read in the -Warsaw paper. I pointed to it. “Is this the key to your visit?” - -“Ah, you have read it,” he replied with that offensive manner in which -these people always contrive to imply that everything you say or do is -a matter of suspicion. - -“I’ll read it again now with more interest,” said I. I did so very -deliberately, to gain time to cool my temper and see how it could -possibly affect me. - -“We are in a position to state that a raid was made two nights ago -upon a house in the Kronplatz, which has long been suspected to -be the Warsaw headquarters of a branch of the dangerous patriotic -society known as the ‘P.F.F.’ (Polish Freedom Fraternity). The house -was deserted at the time, but important papers were found which -revealed the existence of a conspiracy of wide and far-reaching -extent. The complete break-up of the powerful organization of the -Freedom Fraternity is likely to be the result of the raid, and several -well-known patriots are said to be implicated by the discoveries. Among -the names rumoured is that of Count Peter Valdemar, once well known as -the ‘Stormy Petrel’ of Polish politics.” - -“Do you take me for Count Peter Valdemar?” I asked. - -“I did not come here to be fooled,” was the angry reply. “If you will -not comply with my demands, you must accompany me to Warsaw.” - -I saw the prudence of not angering him. “I am Robert Anstruther, an -Englishman, and have been here about three weeks, shooting over the -estate of my friend, Count Ladislas Tuleski.” - -“Your passport?” - -“Here it is. You have a very unpleasant manner,” I could not help -adding, as I took out my pocket book. By a curious chance I had three -passports; my own and that of my chum, Robert Garrett and his sister, -Margaret. They were to have come out with me on their way to Turkey, -but had been prevented at the last moment. I picked mine out and handed -it to him. “It’s properly viséd, you’ll see.” - -He assumed a very profound air as he read it. “You speak Polish very -well for an Englishman,” he said. - -“I speak also German and French, and some Russian.” - -“You have no trace of the vile English accent.” - -“Is that meant for a compliment?” I asked lightly. It was no use to get -angry again. - -“And you are a friend of Count Ladislas Tuleski? You are, no doubt, -aware that he is a suspect.” - -I smiled as I thought of my friend’s airy impulsiveness and almost -butterfly repudiation of responsibility. “I am surprised he should be -suspected of doing anything seriously.” - -“He is,” was the snappy reply. “And his friends are naturally objects -of interest just now. Where is he?” - -“I don’t know. I heard of him last in London.” - -“And you are from London? It is at least a coincidence. Do you know -Count Peter Valdemar?” - -“I believe I met him once.” I remembered that I had seen him at my -friend’s hotel in London. - -“Another coincidence,” he returned drily. There was a pause during -which he regarded me fixedly, pretty much as though I were a criminal. -“You would perhaps, like to shew me all your papers, to satisfy me of -the truth of your story.” - -That was what an American would call “the limit.” - -I got up and opened the door. “I have told you the truth and I don’t -allow any man to question my word. You’d better go before I lose my -temper.” - -I stood six feet without bootheels; I had been the heaviest number five -in my college eight that Corpus had had for years; and was in the pink -of condition. He saw that I meant business and rose. - -“I don’t question your word,” he began. - -“Are you going?” - -He went out into the corridor. “We shall probably require you to come -to Warsaw.” - -“If you wish to arrest me do it, and be hanged to you.” - -“You mustn’t talk like that, and had better leave Bratinsk. So long -as you stay here you will be under surveillance--” the rest of his -sentence was lost, for I slammed the door in his face. - -The attempt at any kind of surveillance over my movements would -drive me out of Bratinsk like a shot; and I should have been much -more annoyed by the incident but for the fact that I had been daily -expecting my visit to be brought to a close by the weather. I had been -very lucky to hit such an open season; but it was late in December, and -the snow was so long overdue that by leaving at once I should miss very -little sport. - -I determined to go, therefore. I had a pig-sticking fixed for the -following day; and that should be the last. - -It was not at all unlikely, too, that Warsaw would afford me some -excitement. The papers were full of hints about impending troubles -from the strikers and revolutionary party, consequent upon the ominous -unrest in St. Petersburg; and I settled that I might as well go there -for a couple of days to see the fun, and then rush home for Christmas. - -With this plan in my thoughts I strolled up to the railway station to -see about trains. - -As I reached the building the stationmaster, a very busy little -official, named Blauben, came running up to me. - -“Ah, mister, mister,”--he knew this one word of English and thought it -the correct way to address an Englishman--“you can do me a service. I -beg of you. I am in sore perplexity.” - -“What is the matter?” - -“A country-woman of yours. She sets me at defiance and does not -understand a word I say. The last train for three hours has gone and -the law is that I shut the station. She will not go out.” - -“Do you want me to put her out for you?” - -“No, no; you can explain to her that the law requires the station to -be shut now; and they are very strict because of this last conspiracy -they have discovered. No one is allowed to remain, mister. Besides, my -wife is waiting for me; and you know her. She is not patient when the -dinner is kept waiting. Ah, mister?” - -“Where is she?” - -I pictured to myself a typical strong-minded British matron, or -spinster, stern of feature, sturdy of will, Baedeker in hand, insistent -upon her rights, and holding the station grimly against the chattering -officious little Pole; and I looked for some fun. But, instead, he led -me up to a girl, who contradicted in every particular my anticipation. -She was some twenty years of age, well-dressed and as pretty as a -painting; straight, regular features, flaxen hair and blue eyes; -glorious eyes meant for laughter, but now clouded with trouble and -nervous agitation. A picture of pale, shrinking misery that went -straight to my heart. - -“Here is an English mister who will explain,” said the stationmaster -with elaborate gesture. - -I raised my hat and as she glanced at me, the colour flushed into her -cheeks and her large eyes seemed to dilate with a new fear connected -with my presence. In a moment it flashed into my thoughts that she had -understood him quite well. - -“The stationmaster tells me you are a country-woman of mine,” I said in -English; “and has asked me to explain that the station is to be closed -now.” - -There was a pause, her look one of blank dismay. She bit her lip and -then stammered slowly with a rich foreign accent, “Zank you, sir; I -cannot go. I wait for ze train and zomeone.” - -I accepted this as though it were the purest English and gave a free -translation of it to the station master. But he was bluntness itself. -His wife was waiting for him, and he had the law on his side. - -I turned to the girl again and said, trying German this time: “They -have curious laws in this country, and one of them requires the station -to be closed.” - -Her face lighted with unmistakable relief and she answered in the same -language: “My servant has gone to make some arrangements, I only wish -to wait for a train.” - -I interpreted this also; but the man was obdurate. “She cannot wait -here. No one is allowed--by law.” - -“But I _must_ wait,” she broke in, and blushed vividly and trembled at -having given away the fact that she understood him. - -“Let me offer a suggestion. I am an Englishman, Robert Anstruther, and -if you will permit, I will wait with you outside until your servant -returns. These officials are obstinate just now because of some plot -that has been discovered; and he will only send for the police if you -do not comply.” - -At the mention of the police she rose quickly, all the colour left her -face and her lips quivered. - -The stationmaster beamed his thanks upon me as he bowed us out and -turned the key upon us. - -“These little officials are very touchy,” I said, when we stood outside -and I saw she was quite undecided what to do. - -She paused, and then said impulsively: “I don’t know what you will -think. I--I am so ashamed.” - -“I hope not. There is no need.” - -“I mean about--I am not English.” - -“Are you not? You answered me in English,” I said gravely. - -A little blush signalled vexation. “As if you did not know. It is no -subject for laughter.” - -“God forbid that I should laugh. You are too evidently in deep trouble.” - -“And you know that I understood him all the time.” - -I bowed. “I ask no questions.” - -“I should like to explain, but I cannot. Oh, how humiliating!” she -cried, and the distress and trouble in her tone touched me deeply. - -“I am only a stranger, but if I can help you, I beg you to give me the -opportunity.” - -“You cannot. You cannot; oh, I----” She left the sentence unfinished -and turned away to stare along the road leading to the village, her arm -resting upon a gate near. “If he comes back----” I heard her murmur; -but the rest of the sentence was lost. - -She was a mystery, and a very fascinating mystery too. Who could she -be? Why travelling alone? What was her trouble? Why pretending to be -English? Why had she started so at the mention of the police? These -and a dozen other questions rushed into my mind in the minute or two -that followed. I cudgelled my wits for something to say; some way of -breaking down the barrier that prevented her making some kind of use of -me. - -The visit of the police agent having turned my thoughts to the subject -of the conspiracy, I wondered whether she could be in any way connected -with it. A fugitive, perhaps? But the idea was preposterous. She was -surely the very incarnation of innocence; about as well fitted for a -conspirator as I was for a police agent. - -She turned suddenly and broke in upon my thoughts by saying, hurriedly -and nervously, this time in Polish: “Thank you, sir, for what you have -done and also for your offer; but I must not detain you longer.” - -I smiled. “You are not detaining me; but I will go, of course, if you -wish.” - -She hesitated. I hoped it was from reluctance to dismiss me. Then she -put out her hand impulsively and said with an air of constraint and a -very wistful look: “My secret is safe with you, I know.” - -“I should like to make it a condition of silence that you let me help -you further.” - -“No, no. That is impossible; impossible,” she cried quickly. “My--my -servant will be back soon.” The fear in her eyes increased as she spoke -of him. - -“Well, don’t forget the name--Anstruther. I’m at the _Petersburg Inn_, -should you--or your friends think me likely to be of any use.” - -She shook her head. “No, no. Thank you. Thank you.” - -I raised my hat and turned away. I would have given a lot to be able -to find some excuse for staying with her; and when I looked after -her, chance found me a reason to go back. She was walking slowly in -the direction of the village, her back towards me, and I saw her -handkerchief fall. - -I picked it up and hurried after her. Hearing my step she turned so -quickly as to suggest alarm. - -“You have dropped this,” I said, handing her the little dainty lace -trifle. As I held it out the initials “V.D.” embroidered in the corner, -lay uppermost. - -She took it hurriedly, glanced from the initials to my face, and then -thanked me. - -Just then a man came hastily round a bend in the path some twenty paces -ahead of us. She bit her lip at sight of him and her nervous confusion -increased. - -“My--my servant. You must go, please.” - -Surprised that she should shew such fear of a servant, I drew aside -with a smile and she walked on. - -Then I looked at the servant; and the mystery about her at once became -clearer and yet deeper. - -It is one of the freaks of my otherwise treacherous memory, never to -forget a face; and despite his disguise I recognized the man at once. -I knew him by his remarkable eyes--small, piercing and almost black in -hue. - -It was Count Peter Valdemar, the “Stormy Petrel” of Polish politics; -the originator of a dozen conspiracies. He was dressed as a servant, -wore a close-cropped red wig, and was clean shaven. - -I recalled the police agent’s words instantly; and the danger to the -girl appealed to me. For her sake I resolved to warn him. - -They spoke together, and from his glances in my direction, I guessed -she was telling him what I had done. As I approached them, he assumed -the deferential air of a servant. - -“A word with you,” I said. - -He was full of surprise. “With me, sir?” - -I drew him aside. “I have no desire to pry into your affairs, but I -wish to warn you that you are in great danger of discovery here.” - -“Danger! Of what? Surely you are mistaken, sir?” He spoke with a -flourish of the hand and a bow, but his piercing eyes were fixed -intently upon mine. - -“I am a friend of Count Ladislas Tuleski, and I met you once or twice -in his rooms in London a year ago. You are Count Peter Valdemar. This -morning a police agent from Warsaw visited me, and regarded me as a -suspect because of my friendship with the Count, and because I admitted -that I had known you. Take the warning from me as a friend; and be on -your guard. If I have recognized you, others may.” - -It was safer for us both not to be seen together, so I walked off -leaving him a very much surprised Count indeed. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -ON THE DEVIL’S STAIRCASE - - -I had not walked three hundred yards towards the village when I met the -police agent hurrying stationwards at a pace which would quickly bring -him face to face with Count Peter and his companion. - -This must be prevented at any cost, so I stopped him. - -“I wish to speak to you.” - -“They told me you had gone to the station.” - -This was all right, for it showed he was following me. “Our interview -ended hastily this morning because I thought you doubted my word and I -was angry. I see now that you were doing your duty. Come back with me -to the inn, and let us talk things over.” - -“You can say what you have to say here,” he answered. He was a surly -dog: but I dared not let him pass me. - -“Scarcely that; because I can adopt your suggestion and prove to you, -by letters and so forth, that I am what I told you; an Englishman and -not a spy.” - -“Why do you change like this?” His suspicious tone again. - -“The reason is simple. I have decided to leave here to-morrow probably, -and don’t wish to be bothered by your spies meanwhile. It is simpler to -convince you with proofs.” I linked my arm in his. “Come along, we must -understand one another better. I am not the suspicious individual you -think and you are no doubt a better fellow than I deemed.” - -He was a little beast, only fit to be kicked; but I thought of the girl -and smothered my natural inclinations. - -By the time we reached my rooms I had worked some of his suspicions -loose; and when I laid before him letters from my sister and friends at -home, and showed him such things as my cheque book, letter of credit, -and so on, he was sufficiently satisfied to have a bottle of wine with -me. - -Over this his tongue was loosened and we discussed the conspiracy, -which he admitted was widespread and in some respects more dangerous -than any which had threatened the Empire for years. Its especial -danger lay in the skill with which the leaders had attempted to blend -industrial discontent with political intrigue; and so form a union -among vast masses of the population in many industrial cities. - -The practical grievances of the workers and the many wrongs of the -rural population were being used by the democratic theorists, the -dreamers and the political agitators to foment discontent; and I knew -enough of Russia to be aware that such highly inflammable materials -as these might easily be heaped together and then fanned into one huge -simultaneous explosion all over the Empire, terrible enough to startle -the world. - -In Russian Poland the cause was the old one--national independence; and -it was in this that Count Peter Valdemar had taken a part and that my -friend Ladislas was involved. - -I repeated my surprise that my friend should be regarded as dangerous. - -“He is a leader; and at such times any man may be a source of danger,” -was the reply. - -“And this Count Peter--where is he?” I asked casually. - -“He is probably making for the German frontier, with the intention of -flying to England. He was at Warsaw; but disappeared. Your country has -much to answer for in harbouring all these plotters.” - -“If it comes to that we have a few anarchists of our own, and they are -harboured on this side of the Channel.” - -“Not in Russia. But I don’t think the Count will escape us this time. -He is well known to so many of us.” - -“And if you catch him?” A significant smile answered me and a tilt of -the eyebrows. - -“You have a wonderful police system,” said I, admiringly. - -“We shall catch him on the frontier, sir. Make no mistake. No man can -get through the net we have spread there.” - -I emptied my glass. “Well, here’s luck to all who deserve it. And now, -about myself?” - -“I will communicate with Warsaw; and meantime go where you will or stay -here if you prefer.” - -I had succeeded in detaining him nearly a couple of hours, and by this -time the Count and his companion ought to be out of the place; so I -ordered my horse, resolved to go for a ride to test the truth of the -little beggar’s assurance that I was not to be watched. - -I chose the southern road and as the ground was very hard I went at -a leisurely pace. I was not followed; and as soon as I had satisfied -myself of this, my thoughts slipped back to the incident at the railway -station, and a pair of blue eyes that had looked with such desolate -wistfulness into mine. Would the Count get away? Had they gone already? -Would chance ever bring us together again? Could I not do something on -my own account to help chance? That was more my way; and I set to work -thinking how I could use my friendship with Ladislas to accomplish my -end. - -I was still following this train of thought when I reached the hill -known locally as the “Devil’s Staircase.” Bratinsk stands on a plateau; -and about five miles to the south, this hill, one of the most dangerous -I have ever seen on account of its fearful gradient and deadly twists -and turns, leads to the plains below. From the top there is a fine view -over the Batak Levels, a stretch of fertile country extending for -miles to the foot-hills beyond. It was a favourite spot of mine and on -reaching it now I dismounted, tethered my horse near and strolled to -smoke a cigar and continue my reverie. - -I was inclined to shake hands with myself at the thought of using -Ladislas. He would surely be able to tell me enough of Count Valdemar -to put me on the track; and I was just thinking how to describe the -girl whose initials I believed to be “V. D.” when I caught the grating -of wheels, followed rapidly by the throbbing sound of horses’ feet. - -Some one must be in a deuce of a hurry, I thought, as I looked back -along the road. Some one was, surely enough. Not a couple of hundred -yards from the brink of the hill came a light caleche with two -occupants drawn by a pair of horses at full gallop. What was the fool -of a driver about? To dash down the Devil’s Staircase at that mad pace -meant death. No horses ever foaled could make the sharp turns and -twists of that zigzag, treacherous, deadly incline at a gallop. - -I shouted a warning at the top of my voice; and then my heart seemed -to leap in my breast and every vein in my body to chill like ice as -the occupants of the caleche looked up, and I recognized Count Peter -Valdemar and the girl who had been in my thoughts all that day. - -As the runaways reached me I leapt down on to the road and I made a -spring for the reins of the horse nearest me. I missed them and was -rolled over and over, while the frightened beasts dashed on, the Count -tearing and tugging and straining at the reins in a futile effort to -stop them. - -I jumped up and ran down the hill in pursuit. Just below, the road made -an S-shaped curve, and the horses were round this and out of sight like -a flash; and while I was racing after them round the first bend, I -heard a shout in a man’s voice, a girl’s scream, and then the crashing -sound of a smash. - -I reached the scene in a few moments. The wreck had come at a point -where the road turned at less than a right angle; and the sight of it -sickened me with fear. - -One horse was down, lying against a bank, bleeding profusely and -kicking spasmodically in what I judged to be a death struggle. The -other was on its feet and was plunging and tugging to free itself from -the reins and harness which had got entangled in the wreck of the -caleche. Under the body of the vehicle lay the Count, and as I did not -for the moment see his companion, I guessed that she must be hidden -under the wreckage too. - -With a big effort I hoisted the vehicle sufficiently to drag out the -Count; but the girl was not there. - -Then I saw her lying behind a bush by the roadside. I ran to her and -laid my finger on her pulse. With intense relief I found the beat; -feeble it is true, but steady; and I poured some brandy into the cup -of my flask and managed to get a little of it between her lips. A -trembling sigh escaped her; and I returned to the Count. - -The police agent was right. The Count would never cross the German -frontier--he had crossed the farther one. I knew enough of first aid -work to ascertain the cause. His neck was broken; and I guessed he had -been thrown sideways on to his head, snapping the vertebrae. I drew the -body to the side of the road and threw one of the rugs over it. - -Next I freed the sound horse--thinking he might be needed--soothed him -a bit and tethered him to a tree. - -By this time the girl was fast recovering and I went back to her. I was -administering another dose of the brandy when she opened her eyes. - -“You!” she said. - -“Yes, fortunately. Don’t worry about things. May I help you to sit up -and take this, or can you manage it alone? That’s good,” I smiled as -she sat up unaided. - -“What has happened? Oh, I remember. The hill and then----” and she put -her hands before her eyes for a moment. - -“You have had a wonderful escape.” - -The word confused her. “Did we escape then? Is he not following us? My -uncle thought--oh, I understand; I thought you meant--but is he hurt?” - -“Yes, badly.” - -I had placed her so that her back was towards the wrecked carriage and -the Count’s body; but at my words she turned and looked round. Her eyes -were wide with horror. “Is he dead?” she asked. - -“But for a miracle you would have shared his fate.” - -She was silent for a moment and lifted her hands and let them fall with -a sigh. “He would rather have had it so than have been captured; and he -feared that this time. He was a hard, desperate man.” - -There was no sign of any strong emotion or great personal grief in this -reference to him. It was far better so under the circumstances. But I -did not quite know what to say. - -Then she surprised me. “He told me to come to you if anything happened -to him. You recognized him, he said.” - -“Yes, as Count Peter Valdemar. I warned him this morning.” - -“He told me. You are a friend of--Count Ladislas Tuleski?” She said -this with just a suspicion of hesitation. - -“An intimate friend. Do you know him?” - -“Yes--I know him,--oh, yes: I----” she hesitated, glanced at me and -stopped. - -“He is one of my most intimate friends and one of the best fellows in -the world,” I said enthusiastically. - -She made no reply, but glanced swiftly at me again and lowered her head. - -“I think I can walk now,” she said presently; and I helped her to rise. -“I am not hurt, you see. It was only fright and shock.” - -“Thank God it was no worse,” I cried. She did not seem to hear this. -“Now, what do you wish to do?” - -“I don’t know. What ought I to do? My uncle--do you know the Count was -my uncle?--or, rather, not my own uncle, no real blood relation.” - -“No, I had no idea.” - -“When the trouble came at Warsaw he had to fly, and he was carrying -certain papers with instructions to friends of the Fraternity to -Cracow. A raid is expected there; and there are papers which threaten -us all. Even my own dear mother is in danger. He told me to carry those -papers through to Cracow at any cost; to get your help if need be, and -to say that your friend, Count Ladislas, was also involved. I was to -tell you this, if you showed any reluctance to help me. But now what -can we do?” and she looked the picture of dismay. - -“You were travelling as an English girl?” - -“Yes, as Miss Mary Smith. He got passports for me in that name and for -himself as Ivan Grubel, my servant.” - -“Where are they?” - -“He has them and the rest of the papers. They are sewn into his coat.” - -“Why did he make all this methodical preparation?” - -“He was recognized, I think, in Bratinsk. That was why we were driving -away. He expected to be pursued.” - -“If I get the coat, can you find the papers?” - -“Yes, but--he is--dead;” and she shuddered. - -“We have to think of the living. Yourself, my friend, and your mother.” - -It is not a pleasant thing to strip the coat off a dead man; but it -had to be done. So I went and did it as quickly as I could. I took -it back to her and she was hurriedly searching for the papers when -she gave a little gasp of alarm and shrank close to me as a horseman -appeared, picking his way very gingerly down the hill. It was my -friend, the police agent from Warsaw. In a moment he took in the scene. -He recognized me at once, and my companion a moment later. - -“Ah, this is better luck than I expected. A smash, eh? So you didn’t -get far away after all? I knew I should catch you, but didn’t hope to -do it so soon. Where’s Count Peter Valdemar?” - -“You again, is it?” I said, with a smile. “This young lady, a -country-woman of mine, Miss Mary Smith, has met with an accident and -her servant, named Ivan Grubel, has been killed. The horses ran away.” - -“Killed, eh? That’s his coat then. Give that to me.” My companion -caught her breath and clutched my arm. - -“You guessed too fast, my friend; you did so this morning, you know, as -I showed you afterwards. This coat is mine;” and with that I slipped my -arms into it and put it on. - -“Yes, it’s easy to see it’s yours by the way it fits you,” he sneered. -My arms were some three inches too long for the sleeves and the body -was ridiculously short. “I know you by this time. You must give me that -coat. I saw the woman there searching the pockets for something.” - -“If you want it, you’d better come and take it. I shan’t give it up -unless you do.” - -“For your own sake don’t mix up any more with this. If you are an -Englishman, go away and leave me to deal with this woman. But give me -that coat. You know to whom it belonged; and I must have it.” - -He dismounted and walked toward me. - -“You had better keep your distance,” I said quietly. - -“You resist? Then I must do my duty. You are my prisoner.” - -The threat of arrest seemed to scare the girl badly, but without a -second’s hesitation she tried to shield me by taking everything on her -own shoulders. - -“I alone am responsible,” she cried, stepping forward. “Give up the -coat, Mr. Anstruther. It is I who should be the prisoner.” - -She acted pluckily, like the little brick she was, and with the best -intentions in the world. But it was a huge mistake. She had practically -given the whole thing away. - -The significant leer of triumph on the police agent’s face made it -plain that he appreciated this. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -VOLNA DRAKONA - - -I lost no time in undeceiving the police agent. “You are plucking -unshot birds,” I said. “There is not going to be any arrest either of -this lady or myself. You can end the thing anyhow you please, short of -arresting either of us.” - -I was glad that that made him lose his temper. “Do you dare to disobey -me?” he cried furiously. - -I became personal and heaped fuel on the fire of his anger. “Don’t be -a foolish little person. You don’t know how idiotic you look. You can -do nothing. You are six inches shorter than I am, and I don’t care a -kopeck for your authority as a policeman.” - -He swore fluently and stamped his feet with rage. “You will answer for -this,” he shouted, using a very foul epithet. “I thought this morning -you were a spy. Now I know it. You shall not insult me. In the name of -the Czar, I call on you to submit.” - -I laughed at him with intentional aggravation. “You are a worse fool -than I thought. I am a British subject; I have done no wrong; and I -care no more for your Czar than I do for you. You have just insulted me -grossly and the best thing you can do is to clear out.” - -“You are a revolutionary, in league with this woman and the carrion -there;” and he jerked his thumb toward the dead body. - -I took no notice of this coarseness, but untethered the unhurt horse -and led it over to my companion. - -“We are going,” I said to him. “I have told you that this is Miss Mary -Smith; I have her passport here in my coat.” I rummaged in the pockets, -found two passports, and handed them to him. - -He glanced at them and then pocketed them with a grin of -self-satisfaction at his astuteness. - -“Where are you going?” - -“That is our own business. I will not let you follow us. Return me -those passports,” I said, threateningly. He did not see my object but -backed away toward his horse. “Come, quick.” - -He hesitated a moment and then mounted hurriedly. “As they were in your -coat they will connect you with these people,” he said with a cunning -leer. - -I did not care a rap for this now; whether he kept or returned them. -We could not possibly use them again, so I shrugged my shoulders and -turned away. “Go to the devil,” I said. - -But he had a surprise for me. As my back was turned a pistol shot rang -out, and the horse I was holding plunged and tore loose from me, limped -down the hill and fell to the ground. - -“Now we’ll see about your tall talk, Mr. Englishman. You and the woman -there will just march on ahead of me into Bratinsk; and if either of -you so much as look round, I’ll fire. Mind that. By God.” - -His weapon was levelled at my head and my companion again showed the -stuff she was made of. With a little cry she dashed right in front of -me dead in the line of fire. - -“You must not shoot,” she said, quite steadily. “This gentleman has -done nothing but help me after the accident.” - -“We’ll find out all about that at Bratinsk,” replied the man. “Now -march, you two.” - -It was an ugly situation; but I did not take the police agent as -seriously as did “Mary Smith.” They are bullies to the core, so long as -it is safe to bully; and this fellow was a particularly brutal brute of -his brutal class. - -There is one thing they are all afraid of, however, the censure of -their superiors; and their superiors hate the investigation which -follows when anything happens to foreigners in general, and Englishmen -and Americans in particular. - -I felt quite confident, therefore, that he would not fire, and that -the chief danger we ran was that his weapon might go off by accident. -Moreover, he was probably as bad a shot as they nearly all are. So I -put up a bluff. - -I drew my companion to one side and looking the man square in the face -I walked a couple of paces toward him. Instead of shooting he backed -his horse and warned me again. This satisfied me. - -“You can fire if you like. You know I am an Englishman and if you shoot -me there’ll be a row.” - -“Do as I say,” he shouted with an oath. - -I paused and then said very deliberately: “I’ll see you in hell first. -Fire at me if you dare.” - -A little gasp of alarm from the girl was lost in a volley of oaths from -the police agent. - -Then the luck veered once more to our side. Inadvertently his spur -touched his horse’s flank and the animal, taking his loud tones as -addressed to it, began to fidget and prance so that he could not have -taken aim had he wished. The figure he cut was quite laughable. - -But it was my chance and I took it. I picked up a stone and flung it -at the horse. This set it kicking and plunging desperately so that the -none too skilful rider was nearly unhorsed. Choosing my moment I ran -up, seized the hand which held the revolver and wrenched the weapon -away without any trouble at all. - -That was the end of the fighting so far as he was concerned; for he -drove his spurs home and clattered away up the hill. - -I judged that he was afraid I might now do the shooting which he had -threatened so glibly; and mingled with his fear was the belief that, as -he had shot our horse and had thus destroyed the means of our flight, -he could safely ride off to fetch assistance. - -“That’s a good riddance anyhow,” said I with a laugh, when he had -disappeared. “I think you’re the pluckiest girl I ever knew.” - -“I was so frightened,” she declared. - -“Yes, so frightened that you actually put yourself right in front of -his revolver. That’s the kind of fright I mean; only I call it pluck.” - -“It was nothing. But you should not have taken any part in this -miserable affair. You have compromised yourself with the police and may -get into all kinds of trouble.” - -“Don’t you think we had better start for Cracow? That fellow won’t be -away longer than he can help, and I have to get a little scheme ready -for him before he returns. The sooner we start the safer.” - -“But what can we do about----” and she glanced to where the Count’s -body lay. - -“If we are to think of the living, we can do nothing. He has been -recognized and when the police return they will care for the body and -something can be done from Warsaw.” - -“It seems heartless to leave him,” she murmured in distressed -perplexity. - -“There is no other way; so if you please we will start. I’ll tell you -my plan as we walk. Your mother’s safety is in the balance, remember.” -She yielded then and we set out. - -“I think we shall get through without any great trouble. There is a -train from Bratinsk somewhere about eight o’clock, which will put us in -Cracow in a few hours.” - -“But I have no passport now, to pass the frontier.” - -“Fortunately, I can arrange that. My first plan is to send the police -off on a false scent. There is a peasant family, not a mile from the -top of the hill--where my horse is, by the way--and they will do -anything for me. I helped them out of some trouble when I was here last -year, and they think a lot of it. With this police agent away from -Bratinsk for a few hours, we can get off secretly and safely.” - -At the top of the hill I found my horse, put “Miss Smith” on his back -and handed her the coat which had been the first cause of trouble. - -“I shall need the coat for my plan; so find the papers which are sewn -into it and be ready to rip them out the moment we reach the cottage.” - -“But you?” she protested. - -“No protest, please. I am good for more than a mile at fair speed.” - -“You do all this for a stranger,” she said, her eyes lighting as she -looked down at me. - -“Oh, we shan’t always be strangers. Keep him going. I can’t talk and -run at the same time. Be merciful;” and with that we set off at a good -round trot. I held to the stirrup and so had no difficulty in keeping -up. - -In about five minutes we turned off the road and the cottage was soon -in sight. By good fortune the man I sought, Michel, was in the patch -of garden and greeted me with a smile. I came to the point at once. - -“Michel, you have often asked for a chance of repaying that little -debt. You can do it now. I want you and your sister, Testa, to help me. -You are to ride my horse and your sister yours, and start at once. Ride -down the Devil’s Staircase, strike out any way you like at the bottom; -ride for four or five hours; you in the name of Ivan Grubel, your -sister as Mary Smith, an English girl. At the end of the ride, which -must be as near a railway station as you can manage, turn my horse -adrift to go where he will; and then make your way home secretly. And -no one must know of your absence. You’ll do this?” - -“Why yes, Excellency. Testa, Testa;” and he ran in calling his sister. - -“Now for the coat? It will be the best possible thing to create the -false trail with.” - -“The papers are here in the lining.” - -“Get them out then at once, please. We have no minutes to lose.” I -handed her a knife and she found them. - -Michel came round the cottage a minute later leading the horse for his -sister just as Testa herself appeared ready to start. - -“Good-evening, Excellency,” she said, her brown eyes dancing at the -thought of an adventure. - -“You grow stronger every day, Testa, and prettier,” I said. “Now, -Michel, wear this coat, take care that every one has a full view of -it; and when you get rid of the horse, strap it on his back. Mind, you -two, my liberty may depend upon you. God-speed.” - -“Trust me,” replied Michel as he mounted. - -I helped Testa to the saddle. “Don’t look scared, child,” I said; for -her face had clouded at my words. “I shall be in no danger if you do -this thing well. Off with you.” - -“By the help of the Virgin,” returned Testa; and away they went -helter-skelter towards the Devil’s Staircase. - -As soon as they were out of sight we set off for Bratinsk, across the -fields; and I explained the next part of my plan. This was to use the -two passports of Bob Garrett and his sister. - -“I have not told you my real name,” said my companion. - -“We scarcely seem to have had time to speak of anything yet. We’ve been -pretty busy, you see.” - -“It is Volna Drakona. My father is dead; my dear mother is in feeble -health. I have a half-brother and half-sister--Paul and Katinka.” - -“The passports will give you another sort of brother till we get to -Cracow. Only for a few hours, however, if all goes well. Volna! I have -never heard that name before.” - -“It is my mother’s----” she said simply. Then, “You like it?” - -“It is southern in its sweetness.” - -“My mother is from the South. Do you think I could write to her and let -her know that all is well with me? She may hear of my uncle’s death, -and the anxiety will almost kill her. We are deeply attached to one -another.” - -“There is no reason why you should not. And from Cracow it may be safe -to telegraph.” - -“You speak as if we were quite certain of getting through.” - -“Why shouldn’t we? I have had another thought. My servant is at -Bratinsk and I shall use him to create another scent for the police. I -shall send him off toward Warsaw in my name while we go to Cracow as -the two Garretts. I look for no trouble in Bratinsk. The police agent -is not likely to think we shall venture to return there. I expect he -will just get the help he needs and rattle back to make the arrest. He -will then follow Michel and his sister; and as this will take up some -hours at least, we ought to be clear away and near Cracow before he -even returns to Bratinsk.” - -“You make it seem very simple and easy.” - -“So it ought to be; but I shall feel better when we are in the train -speeding west. There is one thing, by-the-by, you had better make some -kind of change in your appearance. I can do it easily by shaving my -beard and changing my clothes. Do you think you could buy something in -Bratinsk? Your description is sure to be telegraphed in all directions.” - -We discussed the means of doing this and had scarcely settled matters -when we reached Bratinsk. Having arranged where to meet, I went to the -inn and Volna to procure the change of costume. - -The dusk was beginning to fall and deeming it best to be cautious, I -entered the inn by a side door and succeeded in slipping up to my rooms -unnoticed. - -My servant, Felsen, was not there; but afraid to lose time in waiting, -and unwilling to risk asking for him, I set to work and shaved off -my beard and moustache. As I changed my clothes, I found the police -agent’s revolver; and took it with me. - -As Felsen always looked after my things I did not notice anything -amiss, except that he seemed to keep them very carelessly; but as soon -as I went into the sitting room, which opened from the bedroom, I -scented trouble. - -Every drawer and cupboard in the place had been ransacked, and papers -and books were all left in the greatest confusion. - -The reason was plain. It was the result of a police visit. My friend -of the Devil’s Staircase had set his comrades to work. Instinctively -I ran back into the bedroom and destroyed the evidences of my shaving -operation, and was in the act of leaving the room when I heard voices -approaching it. - -I had barely time to step into a cupboard when the door was opened and -two men entered. One was Felsen, the other a stranger. His curt, sharp -tone and manner suggested the police. - -They passed through into the sitting room beyond. - -“Your master has not been back then, it seems?” - -“I shouldn’t think he’ll come back after what you say.” - -“He’ll probably be brought back.” This with a sneer. “We know how to -deal with spies and traitors.” - -There was a pause and then Felsen said: “I suppose if he’s caught he -won’t be let out for a long while.” - -“Our prison doors only open one way easily,” chuckled the other. - -“Then I may as well look after myself, I suppose.” - -“Yes. He’s evidently made a fool of you.” - -“Well, it’s my turn now. Have a cigar?” - -I heard matches struck and smelt my best cigars. - -“We can wait downstairs as well as here,” said the police agent. “I’ll -lock the doors this time to make sure.” He came into the bedroom, -locked the door on the inside and then went back. The other door was -then locked and the two men went downstairs. - -Fortunately he had left the key in the bedroom door, and the instant -the way was clear, I went out, crept along the corridor and down the -back stairway to the door by which I had entered. - -I gained the street safely and walked away toward the railway station, -trusting to the gloom of the evening and my shaven face to save me -from recognition. - -By the action of the police and the fact that they were already on the -look-out for me had crumpled up my plan. And there was still worse to -come. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A HORSEDEALING TRANSACTION - - -As I hurried to the station I tried to think over the position coolly -and carefully. - -In the first place, I was now a fugitive from the police; but as I had -done no wrong, the fact had a sort of fascination for me. The scent of -adventure and the prospective excitement attracted me, and the idea of -a trial of wits with the authorities roused every combative instinct in -my nature. - -Even had there been no one else involved, I should have gone through -with the thing for its own sake. But there was Volna. Her safety -and that of her mother depended upon me; and that fact was the most -powerful incentive I could have had to urge me to my utmost effort. The -thought of helping such a splendid girl was just a sheer delight. - -Those papers had to be got to Cracow. The mother’s safety required -this; and the risk involved in the attempt formed the spice of the -adventure. I had powerful and influential friends both at home and on -the continent who would readily help me to get out of any bother so -far as matters had gone at present; but it might be a very difficult -thing if in the present excited state of the empire, I was caught -helping the “P.F.F.” by carrying seditious documents for revolutionary -purposes. Volna also had run no great risk as yet. The mere fact that -she was travelling with Count Peter Valdemar was not by itself likely -to involve her in any serious consequences. If the papers could have -been destroyed, therefore, we could easily have put an end to the -complication. But this was impossible. Their delivery in Cracow was -imperative. - -We stood thus at the dividing line between safety and risk; and there -was nothing for it but to go through with the matter to the end. - -My experience at the inn had its lesson. I recognized that I must move -very warily indeed in making any inquiries at the station. The fussy -little stationmaster, Blauben, might recognize me despite the change in -my appearance; and I did not at all relish the prospect of interviewing -him. - -But in this one respect the luck was with me. I was surprised to see a -small crowd of people at the generally deserted station, and it was an -easy matter to mingle with them without being observed. - -That was all the luck there was, however, as the reason for the crowd -spelt further disaster to my plans of escape. The place was in a hubbub -of excitement; and I soon learnt that there had been a very serious -accident on the line at a place called Pulta, some seven or eight miles -west of Bratinsk. - -As a result of this the line to Cracow was blocked. There would be no -train going west that night. - -The people in the station were travellers from the opposite direction -who had been put out and told, with the usual courtesy of the railway -authorities, that they must shift for themselves until the line was -clear. They might think themselves lucky, I overheard little Blauben -tell one man, if they got on by noon the following day. - -This was check with a vengeance; if not checkmate. - -I hung about for some time with the object of ascertaining the chance -of getting a train in the other direction--anything to get out of -Bratinsk--and was pretending to study one of the time bills when I -caught my own name. - -“Know the Englishman, Anstruther? Of course I do.” It was Blauben’s -voice. “If he comes here, I’ll stop him.” - -“We think he may try and bolt.” - -“How’s he going to bolt? There’s no train west and nothing east except -the midnight express. But what’s it all about?” The reply was given in -low tone and escaped me. But part of the stationmaster’s answer was -enough. - -“Spy? Rubbish. Why he was here shooting last year. You people would -find spies growing on gooseberry bushes. No. I have already told a -hundred of you that there will be no train”--this to a questioner -in a tone of exasperation; and I saw him hurry off gesticulating -frantically. I could do no good by waiting longer, so I slipped out of -the station, and went back to the village to meet Volna. - -After all, the accident at Pulta might not prove an unmitigated evil. -The few sentences I had overheard showed that the police were watching -the station for me; and an attempt to leave would probably have landed -us right into their hands. - -Then it occurred to me that we might even turn the accident to good -account. If we could get to Pulta soon, we could give an excellent -reason for our presence; that we wished to inquire about some friend -supposed to have been in the wrecked train; and, as the line from there -to Cracow would be open, we could do the journey after all by rail. - -Pulta by the road was some ten miles, and a rough hilly road it was. -Too far and too rough for Volna to attempt to walk. To hire any kind of -conveyance was of course out of the question; as it would lay a trail -which even a blind policeman could follow. I had a spare horse at the -inn; but for the same reason I dared not attempt to take it out of the -stable. - -In that part of Poland, however, one deal can always be made without -exciting any comment or surprise. Any one will trade a horse with -you, and at any time of the day or night. I believe a man would not -be in the least surprised to be called out of bed at midnight for the -purpose; and I am sure he would gladly get up for the sheer pleasure of -the deal. It is the one great pastime, or as near to a pastime, as the -older men of that district care to get. - -But to obtain a saddle was another matter; while even to have asked -for such a thing as a side saddle would have stirred enough curiosity -to set the gossips’ tongues click-clacking all over the village. There -was nothing for it therefore except that Volna should ride bare-back; -and as I should have to lead her horse, there was no use in getting one -for myself. - -Volna was waiting for me when I reached the appointed place. She had -made a considerable change in her appearance. A long fur cloak covered -her dress, and in place of her former dainty headgear she was wearing a -close fur turban. - -Wishing to try the effect of my own altered appearance, I assumed a -sort of slouching walk and made as if to pass her. - -“Did you think I should not know you?” she asked. - -“I was rather hoping you would not. I am supposed to be disguised.” - -She laughed. “I should know you anywhere.” - -“Then we must trust that other eyes are not so keen as yours,” said I, -feeling a little crestfallen. - -“Or that they are not so interested in recognizing you. What about the -train?” - -“None but bad news;” and I told her what had occurred and how I -proposed to manage. She agreed at once, but was for walking. - -“I think I can walk ten miles,” she declared readily. - -“There is no need. It is a rough, hilly road; and there is a man at -the other end of the village from whom I can buy a horse without any -chance of rousing suspicions.” - -“It would not be more hilly for me than for you, would it?” - -“I think you had better have the horse.” - -“Then I will say no more,” she agreed. “I am afraid my disguise is not -much more successful than yours,” she added, as we walked on. - -“It might have been awkward if neither had recognized the other, -mightn’t it?” - -“I hadn’t thought of that.” - -“You would have to hide your face, if you don’t want to be known.” - -“I expect I look an awful fright.” - -“The more disguised you are the better,” said I. She laughed. “It is -good to hear you laugh in the midst of all--this uncertainty.” - -“It cannot be so very dreadful if you can manage to pay such neat -compliments Mr.--Anstruther.” - -“You find that name a bit troublesome, eh?” - -“Don’t you think you are worth taking some trouble for? But it _is_ -hard.” - -“Lucky that I’m going to change it while we are together.” - -“Change it?” - -“We’ll talk that all over on the road to Pulta. Here’s the place where -I hope to get the horse. It may take a little time. Will you wait for -me?” - -There is a rough kind of recognized procedure in horsedealing in that -district; but as I had had more than one experience of the kind I knew -how to act. - -I crossed to the house and seeing a light in the stable behind, guessed -I should find the man bedding his horses. He did not know me, but I had -heard of him. - -“Good-evening, Andreas,” I said in a rather surly tone, as if I had a -grievance against him; and without another word I walked up to the four -horses one after the other and looked them over. He took no notice, but -went on forking the bedding. This was all strictly in accordance with -etiquette. - -I came out of the last stall shrugging my shoulders and laughing -contemptuously. “Blauben is a little fool. He said I should find some -horses here. Good-night. There isn’t one worth a couple of roubles.” - -The last sentence he understood to mean that I might possibly deal. He -dashed his fork on the ground and came toward me, saying very angrily: -“What’s that? Who are you? Who sent you here?” - -“Old Blauben at the station.” - -“And do you think you know anything about horses? You don’t know even -how to look at them?” - -“I have a chestnut that’s worth the whole string. I thought there -was something to buy here. I suppose he thought I wanted meat for a -bouillon factory. Good-night.” - -“Wait, there, wait, you long imp of ignorance. Do you want to make a -match with your chestnut? Where is it?” - -I laughed. “If these crocks of yours saw mine they’d learn how to move. -Here, smoke, you old owner of dogs’ meat;” and I handed him a cigar. - -“Holy Virgin, what do I hear?” he cried, throwing up his hands, and -putting a lantern near my face. He knew well enough now that I had come -to trade; and was happy. But we kept up the farce a little longer; he -abusing my chestnut and I his four nags. - -His next object was to find out which horse I had selected; but I kept -this from him carefully. At length I pointed to one that I would not -have had as a gift. - -“I’m going to give my dogs a treat one day, I think they could manage -with that. How much for it, if I give you back the hide and the feet?” - -He grinned. “You know a fine horse when you see one, after all,” he -said. “You shall have him--three hundred roubles.” About £30 this. - -“Kopecks, you mean. Good-night.” - -“Wait, wait. Was there ever such an impatient fool as you? Do you -really want him?” - -“No, only I didn’t want this long walk for nothing: and I’m taking some -horses to Noshti Fair.” - -“Isn’t there one of the others you’d care for? Don’t be in a hurry.” - -“I’m in no hurry. What about these others?” - -Then the real bargaining began. He put a price on the horse I wished -to have; and we chaffered and smoked and swore and abused one another -in the way these bargains are made. I dared not hurry the matter too -much. He would boast all over the village the next day of the fool who -had given him the price he asked; and the transaction would become -public property, with the result that the police might get wind of it. - -It was safer to waste the time necessary to drive a hard bargain. And -so we wrangled until I had fought the amount down to a fair price, when -we spent another ten minutes squabbling whether he should give me an -old bridle or merely a rope halter. - -When I had gained my point and was riding the horse away he swore so -violently that he was a heavy loser by the deal, that I knew he had -made enough profit to boast about. I thought it best to alter his -opinion, therefore. - -“Do you know the history of this horse?” I asked knowingly. “No, you -can’t or you’d know that I’ve cheated you. Do you know that he came -from General Kolwich’s stable and was sold for four hundred roubles? I -should have paid that for him, had you pressed me. I shall get five for -him. But you should learn to know a horse when you see one.” - -He pushed his cap back and scratched his head, and invoked the name of -the Deity in a despair that was almost pathetic. - -I rode off with a chuckle. I knew that I had struck deep into his -pride as a horse trader, and that he would now keep his lips as close -as a rat trap about the whole transaction. He would brood over it, and -wait for the day when he could get even with me; but though the skies -fell, he would never speak of that horse again to any one. - -The bargaining had taken nearly an hour, and I feared the sands of -Volna’s patience would be running out fast. - -She greeted me with a sigh of relief. “I had begun to fear all sorts of -things.” - -“You have never had to buy a horse in these parts. It’s an acquired art -and can only be accomplished with many lies and much time. But we’ll be -off now. You can manage to ride bare-back, I hope?” - -She smiled. “I have ridden bare-back ever since I was a child.” - -“Then you haven’t had time yet to forget.” - -“Is that a reflection on my youth or another compliment?” - -“It’s about the truth, that’s all.” - -“I’m nearly one and twenty,” she declared with a delightful air of -dignity. - -“It is a great age,” I agreed. “I remember how I felt at the time. One -is never so old again, they say, until quite late in life.” - -I helped her to mount. “Bare-back riding is a little undignified for -one and twenty, I’m afraid. Now we are really off and in our new -characters. Do you know who you are?” - -“Miss Margaret Garrett, an English girl who is very troubled what to do -with the r’s in her name.” - -“We can alter that. My friend always calls his sister Peg.” - -“Peg! what a woodeny name.” - -“Short for Peggy--we think that rather pretty.” - -She repeated it several times and laughed. - -“Why do you laugh?” - -“You have queer notions of what is pretty.” - -“Mine’s worse, I’m called Bob.” - -“Bob! Yes, that is much worse. Bob. Bob. Bob. It’s very short, and -easy; but it’s very funny.” - -“My sister always calls me Bob--every one does, in fact.” - -“You have a sister then. What is her name?” - -“Sylvia.” - -“Now that _is_ a pretty name.” - -“Not always. She gets called Silly, sometimes.” - -“That’s monstrous. Is she angry?” - -“Not a bit. You see these are really pet names.” - -“Oh!” She was silent a moment, and then said: “And are we to be Bob and -Peggy to one another?” - -“I guess so, except when we quarrel. Then it will be Robert and -Margaret. But it will only be until to-morrow.” - -“To-morrow?” - -“When we reach Cracow, you know.” - -“Shall we get there to-morrow?” - -“We ought to.” - -“All right--Bob.” She said it with a sly little laugh. - -“You’ll soon get used to it, Peggy. And now I’ll get you to carry my -heavy coat, and if you’ll shake him up we’ll trot for a bit. The sooner -we’ve put a mile or two between us and Bratinsk the better.” - - - - -CHAPTER V - -AT PULTA - - -We kept up a fair pace for nearly an hour, the horse moving at a slow, -loping canter, with spells of walking for me to recover breath; and in -this way we covered six or seven miles, which brought us to the foot of -the steep rugged hills that divide Bratinsk from Pulta. - -“We’ve about a mile and a half climb here, then a stretch of a mile or -so along the top, and after that a tremendous hill down into Pulta,” I -told “Peggy,” as we pulled up. - -“Are you not tired?” - -“No. I could cover a lot of ground at that jog trot. I’m pretty tough, -you see.” - -“Ride up the hill and let me walk.” - -“Not a bit of it. We’ll push on as we are, if you don’t mind.” I had no -breath left for talking, so I plodded on in silence. There had been so -much to do in the interval since we had left the Devil’s Staircase that -I seemed to have had no time to think of anything except the pressing -affair of the moment. But I had time now, as I strode up the hill; and -for the first time I seemed to awake to a recognition of the supreme -confidence and unquestioning trust which Volna showed in me. - -The night was very dark; we were miles from everywhere; she knew -nothing of me, and had only seen me first some eight or nine hours -before; and yet she rode by my side as contentedly as though we had -been friends for life, and were just out for a sort of conventional -picnic in conventional hours. The pluck of it appealed to me as much as -anything. - -“You are a wonderful girl, Peggy,” I exclaimed involuntarily. - -“Peggy? Do you know, I think I begin to like that name. I have been -saying it over and over to myself during the ride. But why am I -wonderful? I wish I could get used to saying Bob. But I have a sort of -something in the throat that seems to jump up and stop me.” - -“Ah, that’s a spasm of the naming tissues. One only has it when a name -is fresh. You’ll get over that. The best cure is to say it often.” - -“Is it, Bob? But why am I wonderful?” - -“You do this unconventional thing as though it were the most ordinary -thing in the world!” - -“Do you mean I oughtn’t to trust--my brother Bob? You see, I just can’t -help myself. I had to trust you. Besides, if you knew”--she broke off, -and after a pause added a little eagerly--“you understand, don’t you?” - -“I understand that chance has given me a very delightful sister.” - -“Why, didn’t you begin by keeping my secret from that -stationmaster--about Mary Smith. I felt like--like nothing I ever felt -before when he brought you up and said you were English.” - -“You tried your best to speak English.” - -“It was like--like a glorious dream come true when you looked so grave -and answered me in German. I’m not used to having people do kind things -for me, except my dear mother. And when we stood outside the station, -I--well, I’d have given anything just to have unloaded my whole stock -of trouble to you.” - -“Poor Peggy!” - -“No, not Peggy, she hasn’t any troubles of that sort yet. They -are--Bob’s. But it’s poor Volna; and Peggy will soon be Volna again.” - -I did not know how to answer this. There was such a touch of sadness in -it: so I said nothing. - -“May I tell you?” she asked presently. - -“Sylvia always tells me hers; so I know how to keep a secret.” - -“I told you I had a half-sister and brother, didn’t I?” - -“Are they like you at all?” - -“No, no. They are both members of this terrible -Fraternity--revolutionaries. My father was one and lost his life in the -cause. My uncle, Count Peter--he was the brother of my father’s first -wife--has always dominated our family: even my poor dear mother.” - -“Is she involved with the Fraternity, too?” - -“No, and yet yes. She has no sympathy with the movement at all; but my -uncle influenced her and she has given large sums of money. She is -rich, you know, and, if it is found out, the government would be glad -to get any pretext for confiscating her fortune. They would throw her -into prison, and it would kill her.” - -“But surely your uncle was not so mad as to leave anything implicating -her in existence.” - -“I wish I could think that. It may be so; but only this morning he -warned me that if these papers did not get to Cracow and a raid was -made there, things would be found which would place her in danger.” - -I thought some things about Count Peter which I did not express. “I -hope he was exaggerating matters,” I said. - -“We have not been happy at home because I would never join in any of -these miserable conspiracies. My sister Katinka, and Paul too, always -upbraided me.” - -“You put your sister first, I notice.” - -“She influences Paul. She is very strong willed, and very--very zealous -for the ‘Fraternity.’” - -“I don’t think _you_ would make a very formidable conspirator, you -know.” - -“It is not that, exactly. I am too much of a coward, I know. But -mother’s fortune comes to me and--oh, this miserable money; they want -it for the cause.” - -“Phew!” I whistled. “I begin to understand.” - -“You thought it strange, I expect, that I was so little affected by my -uncle’s fate; but I----” - -“Don’t say any more if it worries you,” I said when she paused. - -“Oh, I must tell you; only--the fact is, I was always afraid of him and -he brought me away from home this time, saying only that I was to go on -a visit to some friends; but when we were near Bratinsk he told me what -the real object was and--and that mother and he had agreed that I was -to be married.” - -“Married!” I exclaimed. - -“Married to a man who is high up in the Fraternity, and that I should -not go back home until--until that was done.” - -I thought more things about Count Peter--stronger and harsher things -too, this time. - -“I had not heard this an hour before you saw me at the station.” - -“No wonder you looked troubled.” - -“I stayed there hoping to get a train back to Warsaw. I meant to run -away. There is another reason, a terrible entanglement, which made me -so eager to get back.” - -“Involving you?” - -“Yes, I’ll tell you all about it some time. It closely concerns my -mother’s safety, too.” - -“What brought your uncle to Bratinsk?” - -“Affairs of the Fraternity; to consult with one of the leaders.” - -“Well, I won’t say all I think of your uncle for having involved you in -all this.” - -“He is dead. Perhaps if he had not been killed he would have listened -to me.” - -“Perhaps!” But I had my own opinion. “You are right. Volna has had her -troubles.” - -“I could not feel so sorry for him as I should, if--if things had been -different. I am glad I have told you. It’s such a relief to have told -some one. And now you know all about me.” - -“Did you manage to write to your mother from Bratinsk?” - -“Yes, just a short note--that all was well with me.” - -“We must try to keep it so, too. Here we are at the top of the hill. -Now we’ll push along again: and then, the first train for Cracow.” - -We soon covered the flat along the top and I pointed out to her the -twinkling lights of Pulta below us. - -“How quickly we’ve come,” she cried. - -“We must have a straight story to tell. I shall say we are driving in -from Vashtic--a place on the other side of Pulta--and that our carriage -broke down and we had to continue the journey in this fashion. I shall -ask whether Mr. Trevor, a tall fair man, was in the train at the time -of the wreck. But you’ll leave the lies for Bob to tell of course.” - -“How bluntly you put it.” - -“Oh, we can’t help telling some. But it’s in a good cause; so we must -hope they’ll pass as white ones.” - -I began to understand that night that artistic lying is really a -very difficult accomplishment, when inquisitive officials have to be -satisfied. - -I found the railway station at Pulta in the hands of the police. It had -been taken into custody so to speak. When anything happens in Russian -Poland, it immediately becomes an object of suspicion; and any one -seeking information is at once suspected of complicity. An officer -stopped us and asked in a peremptory manner: “Who are you and what do -you want?” - -“There has been an accident, I believe.” - -“Who are you and what do you want? Answer.” A little more sharpness in -the tone. - -“I am an Englishman, Robert Garrett, and this is my sister. We wish to -know whether a friend, Mr. James Trevor, of London, has been hurt in -the accident!” - -“What accident?” - -“The accident to the Cracow express!” - -“Who told you there had been an accident?” - -“I heard it at Vashtic.” - -“Who told you there had been an accident?” he repeated. - -“It seemed to be generally known. The servants in the house where I was -staying heard it somewhere.” - -“What are the servants’ names?” - -“I don’t know. I think the man who told me was called Paul. But what I -want to know----” - -“Where were you staying at Vashtic?” he interrupted. - -“What can that matter. Mr. Trevor of London----” - -“Ah! You refuse to answer?” He turned away and beckoned to a companion, -with whom he conferred, nodding toward us. Then turned to me again. -“How did you get here?” - -“I started in a caleche but the wheel came off and we had to finish the -journey in this fashion.” - -“Which wheel?” - -“The left hind wheel.” - -“Whose carriage was it?” - -“I hired it from Gorlas Malstrom.” My inventive faculty for names was -getting strained. - -“Where does he live?” - -“At Vashtic close to the hotel.” - -“Which hotel?” - -“The Imperial.” I remembered the name of a place where I once had lunch. - -“Are you staying there?” - -“I am not going back.” - -“How long were you there?” - -“Not more than an hour or two.” - -“Where were you before?” - -My local geography not being strong enough to stand a fusillade of this -kind, I threw up an earthwork of anger. - -“Look here, do you want me to give you a history of my tour with all -particulars of my hotel bills since I left London?” - -“Ah, you refuse to answer,” he said again, stolidly regarding me with a -gloomy stare of suspicion. - -“Oh, no; but I’ve had enough of your impertinent curiosity. I am an -Englishman, let me see your superior officer.” - -“Go away,” he said curtly. - -“I demand to see----” - -“Go away; or you will be arrested.” - -Then I had an inspiration. I said, with a show of great indignation: -“Very well. I’ll go, and what’s more I’ll go by the first train to -Cracow and lay the matter before the British Consul. When is the first -train? You’ll see whether you can smash up English travellers in your -infernal trains and then refuse their friends any information.” - -This appeared to make an impression. He hesitated, spoke to his -companion, and then said: “Come back in the morning. There is no train -until eleven o’clock.” - -I had gained the information I needed; but I kept up my pretence of -anger, muttering and grumbling and mumbling about what the British -Consul would do, and so on, as I turned the horse’s head and moved off. - -“Bad luck again,” I whispered to Volna. “No train to-night. You may as -well try to get a night’s rest.” - -“It’s a dark wood that has no clearing,” she said cheerily. “You need -rest too, I am sure.” - -We went off to find a hotel: and presently Volna whispered: “One of the -men is following us.” - -“The best thing we can do is to make use of him, then,” said I; and I -halted to let him come up. It was the companion of the man who had -questioned me, and I resolved to try a different method with him. - -I took out a gold piece and let him see it. “You have been told off to -follow me, I suppose?” - -He glanced at the money and thought I was going to bribe him. “I have -only my duty to do,” he said. - -“If you’ll be guide instead of follower and show me where my sister and -I can get rooms, I’ll give you this.” - -He was my man instantly. “There will be no difficulty about that. The -accident on the line has filled up the place, but I can manage it for -you. You are English?” he said, as we walked. - -“I only wanted to see if my poor friend, Trevor, was in that smash. But -you heard what passed?” - -He shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “You did not ask in the right -way;” and he glanced at the money I had given him. “To-morrow it will -be all right. There is a train to Cracow at eleven o’clock. I shall be -there. No Englishman was hurt in the accident. You may feel quite at -ease.” - -“I am glad to hear that,” I said. I was; but not for the reasons he -thought. - -He earned his gold piece; for he soon found accommodation for us and -for the horse; and bade us good-night, repeating his assurances that -all would be well in the morning. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -VERY SISTERLY - - -Volna was down before me the next morning waiting in a little room -where we had had supper. - -“I guessed Bob would be tired so I would not have him called,” she -said. “I have been up an hour or more.” - -“And Peggy, how is she?” - -“Hungry. And breakfast is ready.” - -“You slept well?” - -“When I had stopped thinking. I couldn’t help it,” she said in answer -to my shake of the head. “I was saying my lesson over and over, lest I -should forget it. Do you know it?” - -“Lesson?” - -“All the names you mentioned so glibly last night at the station.” - -I laughed. “Oh, we shan’t need to remember. We shan’t have any more -bother. That man’s hint as to how to ask questions will carry us -through. You’ll see.” - -“Well, we must be quick, it’s nearly ten o’clock.” - -“We’ve half an hour. And we’re developing a knack of doing a good deal -in half an hour.” - -“I think I shall be a little afraid of you.” - -“Why?” - -“You tell them so readily.” - -“Ah, that’s Bob Garrett. Don’t worry about him. He won’t tell them to -you.” - -“I know that.” - -“I think that for a pair of dangerous conspirators we keep up our -spirits capitally.” - -“I shouldn’t be able to without you. I don’t know what I should have -done, indeed, nor how to thank you.” - -“Wouldn’t a man be a brute who didn’t do his best to look after his -sister?” - -“You make light of everything.” - -“Well, you can thank me at about six or seven o’clock this evening. We -shall be in Cracow then, and the papers will be out of our hands and -off our minds.” - -“And after that?” - -“By Jove. I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that. One thing at a -time and--Cracow first. We must go.” - -We walked up to the station and found a most welcome change in the -attitude of the police. Our friend of the preceding night was looking -out for us, and he had evidently let it be known that there were gold -pieces to be earned. Everybody received us with smiles. Even the man -who had acted the inquisitor’s part overnight came up and was almost -profuse in his apologies. - -He had not known that I was an English milord; my appearance at that -time and in such a way had aroused curiosity; duty compelled them all -to be suspicious; there were dangerous people about; I had probably -heard of the discovered plot; and so on. - -I understood. I took out some gold coins and fingered them carelessly. -His eyes lighted with greed as he gazed at them. - -“About the accident?” I asked. - -“There has been a bad accident; but no one of the name of Trevor, -no Englishman at all, was in the train. I have made a special -investigation,” he added insinuatingly. - -“I’m sorry to have given you the trouble; but thank you.” - -“It is no trouble, only a pleasure to be of some small service to an -English milord.” - -“I am greatly relieved,” I said. “You will probably have had to pay -some one for the work. Permit me to repay you;” and I gave him a fifty -rouble note. His good will was cheap at a five pound note; but he -seemed amazed at so generous a tip. His face beamed as he pocketed it. - -“Really it is not necessary,” he said. “If I can be of any further -assistance, pray tell me.” - -“My sister and I were thinking of going to Cracow,” I said -indifferently. “Is the line safe, do you think?” - -“You still wish to see the British Consul there?” This with just a -shade of anxiety. - -“Oh, dear no--unless it is to express my high opinion of the courtesy -shown me here. Last night is forgotten. I quite understand.” - -“The train will start at eleven. It is usual--a mere form of course -in your case--to ask for passports when issuing tickets for stations -beyond the frontier.” - -“Here they are;” and I took them out of my pocket book making sure that -he should see there was plenty of money in it. “Robert Garrett and -Margaret Garrett, my sister.” - -He just glanced at them and with a bow to Volna, returned them. - -“Shall I show you where to get your tickets?” He was making everything -delightfully smooth for us. - -“I suppose we shall reach Cracow by about four?” I asked casually, as I -took out my cigar case. - -“Scarcely that, I fear. The traffic is disorganized and the direct -line has been closed. You will travel by way of Bratinsk and change -there; and then go round by the loop which joins the main line again at -Solden.” - -The ill news was so unexpected that it caught me right off my guard. To -go to Bratinsk meant walking right into the hands of the men who were -hunting for us. - -To cover my sudden confusion, I let my cigar case fall, and as the -official stooped to pick it up, I caught Volna’s look of dire dismay, -and shot her a warning glance. - -“You smoke of course,” I said to him, and as we lit our cigars, I was -thinking how on earth to get out of the difficulty. - -Then Volna gave another proof of her quick-wittedness. “Ought you to -smoke just yet, Bob?” she asked in a snappy sisterly tone. “You know -what the doctor said about your heart.” - -I took the cue. “You’re always interfering, Peggy,” I said, very -testily. “I wish you wouldn’t.” - -The police official affected not to hear this little interchange of -family amenities and discreetly looked away. - -“I only do it for your good,” she rapped back, with a great air of -superiority. “You complained of that feeling, you know. But please -yourself. You always do.” - -“Rubbish. It’s only because you know I want to go and you want to -stay.” She shrugged her shoulders and turned away. - -“If you are going, the time is close,” said the official. - -“Of course I am going;” and I scowled at Volna and took out some money. -“Where do we get the tickets?” - -He was turning to show me when I let the coins fall and the cigar drop -from my lips as I pressed one hand to my heart--which, by the way, was -as sound as a bell--and clutched him with the other for support. - -“I knew it by the look about your eyes. I saw it coming,” said Volna, -unsympathetically, as she stooped to pick up the money, and the man -helped me to a seat. “You _will_ do these things. Please lay him -straight down and get him some water, or better, a drop of brandy.” -She took off my hat and fanned me with her handkerchief. “It’s nothing -serious,” she said to the others who came round. “He’ll be better in -a moment. Thank you,” this to the man who came back with the brandy. -“Give him air, please.” She was most business-like and sisterly--as -though I had been in the habit of fainting daily and she of restoring -me. - -I came round, of course; but not until the train had left and the -question of our return to Bratinsk was settled. - -“Perhaps you are satisfied now,” I said to Volna most ungraciously, as -I sat up. - -“How absurd you are, Bob. I didn’t give you the cigar.” - -“When is the next train?” I asked the official. - -“Not until to-night.” - -“There you are,” I said to Volna with a brotherly readiness to put all -the blame on her. “What now?” - -“This gentleman said there was some fine scenery here; and a ride or -drive would do you good.” - -“Scenery!” I cried with a fine contempt. “Well, I suppose we can’t sit -about the station all day. But do as you please;” and she walked out -of the station. I could have laughed at the excellent affectation of -sisterly discontent. - -The police official sympathized with me--it was I who had tipped -him--and expressed his feeling with a deprecating smile and shrug and a -lifting of the brows. - -“I suppose it’s the only thing to do,” I murmured as I rose. - -“It is perhaps for the best after all that you did not catch the train. -There is you baggage,” he said. - -“Baggage?” - -“Remembering what you said last night about the accident to your -carriage on the way from Vashtic, and thinking you might need the -baggage in it, I sent out this morning to have it brought here.” - -“Did you? That’s really very friendly and obliging,” I managed to -answer quite cordially, while wishing him at the devil for his -interference. - -“What shall we do with it?” - -“Oh, just keep it at the station here till I come back for that evening -train. You’ll know it easily. Two leather portmanteaus; one marked ‘R. -G.’ and one ‘M. G.,’ London. I’ll go and tell my sister. She’ll be as -delighted as I am at your thoughtfulness. It was only that which made -her wish to remain here for the day.” - -I went after Volna, who was walking toward the little town. - -“That’s a nice thoughtful fellow. He has sent out some one to find our -luggage in the broken-down trap and bring it in. I told him how glad -you’d be.” - -“Should I go back and thank him?” - -“I don’t think it’s necessary, you can do that when we get back this -evening. We are going for a ride now--and the sooner we’re off the -better.” I went to the stable where my horse was, thinking how to get -over the rather awkward difficulty of securing a second animal. - -I did not intend to return to Pulta; and if I hired the horse I should -not be able to return it. To buy it might create suspicion, as a -man does not purchase a horse merely to go for a ride--even in that -horse-bartering region; and I had no wish to turn horse-thief. - -I put a bold face on the matter and went into the stable whistling. An -ostler was grooming my horse and the owner of the place looking on. - -“That’s a nice looking animal of yours,” he said. - -“Yes; and as good as he looks.” - -“No doubt. Andreas knows a good horse.” - -“Andreas? Who’s he?” - -“At Bratinsk. Where you got him, I suppose.” - -I scented danger and fenced. “I suppose you know most of the horses -round about here. Will you smoke?” And I gave him a cigar. - -“I know this one. I sold him to Andreas.” - -“Did you? Well, I don’t care anything about Andreas, but I know he’s a -good horse and I want to hire one as good for my sister to ride to-day.” - -“I can find you one. There he stands.” I had a look at him. A good -horse I saw at a glance. “I like his looks,” I said. - -The ostler took him out and ran him up and down. Then an idea occurred -to me, involving some of the white lies of necessity however. I -expressed a very exaggerated admiration. - -“Carry a lady?” - -“Carry a baby,” was the reply. - -“Then I tell you what I’ll do if you’ll agree. We’re going to Cracow -for a couple of days and coming back; and when we come back we shall -want two horses. I’ll buy him from you if you can find me a couple of -saddles, and if we can come to terms for your taking care of both the -horses while we stay here.” - -It did not take very long to conclude the bargain, and Volna and I were -soon mounted. - -Just as we were starting my friend of the police came up. - -“Going for the ride then?” he asked knowingly. - -“Oh, yes. By the way, has that luggage of mine come in yet?” - -“No. They ought to have been back long before now.” - -“That’s a nuisance. My sister has to do without her habit.” - -“She looks very charming,” he replied, with a bow. - -“What time must we be back for that train?” - -“Six o’clock. But why not ride to Solden, it’s not more than twenty -miles or so. You could take the train there.” - -“Oh, no. We’re going the other way.” - -“Are you ever coming, Bob?” asked Volna, sharply. - -He stepped aside with another significant shrug of the shoulders and -with a laugh I rode off. - -“You do the vinegary sister to the life,” I said. - -“There was cause then. I caught sight of that police agent from -Bratinsk in the distance.” - -“By Jove!” I exclaimed; and we clattered off through the narrow streets -and as soon as we were clear of the town gave our horses their heads. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE LUCK TURNS - - -Volna was thoroughly at home in the saddle, and it was easy to see that -she had been accustomed to horses all her life. She had a perfect seat; -and that firm hand and control which bring out the best there is in a -horse and make him understand that the master is up. - -It was delightful to watch her; and as we kept at it in that first -rattling stretch, I believe that in the sheer exhilaration of the ride, -we forgot everything, even the unwelcome appearance of the police agent -from Bratinsk. - -But neither the pace nor the oblivion could last for ever, and when we -drew rein at the foot of a hill we came back to a recollection of the -load of our worries. - -“Wasn’t that glorious?” she cried, her cheeks glowing, and her eyes -shining, as she stretched forward and patted her horse’s neck. - -“You ride magnificently. How you would enjoy a run with the hounds in -England!” - -“I have read about it. I love horses. I can keep in the saddle all day. -I have done it at home.” Then her face clouded. “How selfish! I had -almost forgotten,” she added. - -“We are doing all we can,” I replied. “Are you sure that the man you -saw was that police agent?” - -“Could I forget him?” - -“You don’t think he saw us?” - -“No. He was talking very earnestly to some one. But I recognized him -instantly.” - -“I’d give something to know what brought him to Pulta.” - -“He was following us, surely.” - -“We must hope not. If Michel did his work properly, my horse with your -uncle’s coat will have been found a good many miles on the other side -of Bratinsk; and his men should be hunting for us there. But I can’t -say I like the look of the thing.” - -“What shall we do?” - -“We’d better try and think what he’ll do. I had intended to take the -hint which the man at Pulta dropped, to ride to Solden, and take the -train from there. But if the other man picks up our trail there, he’ll -set the wires going and we shall find some one waiting for us at -Solden.” - -“How far is it to Cracow? Could we ride all the way? I could ride all -day and all night too, if necessary, as long as the horses will last -out.” - -“We don’t know the road. I don’t even know where we are now. When you -saw that man, I just rattled off at hazard. I know Cracow is pretty -well west of Pulta, a little bit south too, and I guess we are on the -right road. I am accustomed to take long rides and besides having a -fairly good bump of location, always carry this;” and I showed her a -small compass on my watch chain. - -“I always ride by the sun, but then I know the country round Warsaw for -ever so many miles.” - -“We should be in a pretty pickle if we were lost,” said I. - -“The pickle would be much hotter if it was a police preserve.” - -“By Jove, it would. And the worst of it is that if that fellow hears of -us at Pulta, he’ll know the names we’ve taken.” - -“Poor Bob, I’m getting him into very troubled waters.” - -“It’s not Bob or Peggy I’m thinking of, it’s Volna, and Volna’s mother. -Cracow seems a mighty hard place to reach; but I’m going to get there -somehow.” - -I was silent for a while thinking over the problem. Volna’s suggestion -was the best if we could do it--to ride all the way to Cracow. But it -was no light undertaking. If I had known the way, I should not have -hesitated; but the days were short and although the sun was shining -brightly enough then, the weather looked as though it were going -to change. It was warmer; and when a spell of frost breaks in that -country, it generally indicates that rain or snow is coming. To be lost -in a rain or snow storm would be a very ugly development indeed. - -There was moreover the awkward question whether we were likely to be -pursued. On the other hand to stop at Solden appeared to be even more -risky. - -Seeing me thus thoughtful, Volna broke in. “You are not going to keep -anything from me, are you. Don’t do that, please? Do you think that man -is likely to ride after us from Pulta?” - -“That was just in my mind. I should say it will depend upon how soon he -learns anything about us. He is more likely to trust to the wires.” - -“It’s getting very exciting. He may telegraph ahead and have people -sent out to stop us. I suppose I ought not to say so, but I am -beginning to feel a sort of keen enjoyment.” - -“I have made up my mind. We’ll stick to the horses and avoid the -trains. But we’ll try and mislead any one who may follow us.” - -We had already passed several people on the road. I stopped the next -comer. - -“Is this the road to Solden?” I asked the man, evidently a farmer. - -“Yes, one of them.” - -“Straight road?” - -“As straight as roads are in these parts,” he replied, with a grin. - -“I mean do I have to turn to the left or right?” - -“You’ll be turning most of the time. You’re from Pulta, aren’t you?” - -“It’s not where I’m from but where I’m going that concerns me.” - -“All right. I know the lady’s horse;” and on he drove without any more. - -“Everybody seems to know everybody else’s horse about here,” I said. -“If it weren’t awkward it would be comical. We’ll ride on and try the -next man.” - -The next was another farmer. A surly Russian who understood Polish with -difficulty and spoke it unintelligibly. So I thanked him and rode on no -wiser. - -Three or four miles later brought us to a village. - -“Had we not better get some food here?” asked Volna. “I will go and buy -it, and perhaps can find out at the same time what road we ought to -take.” So we dismounted, and I waited with the horses. - -Presently a priest came by, and bade me good-day with a smile. - -“You have a picturesque place here, Father,” I said. “What is it -called?” - -“Kervatje,” he answered, and we began to talk. I learnt that his -name was Father Ambrose, and after some while he asked, “You are a -foreigner?” - -“An Englishman. My sister is with me. We were going to Solden, but I -fear have lost the way.” - -“Oh, no. Solden lies across the hills there. A rough road but fairly -direct. The only point of difficulty is just over the brow of the hill -where the road forks. Take that to the right or you will go astray and -might find yourselves in Cracow, after some forty miles or so, that -is----” and he smiled pleasantly. - -“I’ll remember what you said,” I replied, “and am much obliged to you.” - -“It is a pleasure. I have been in England; and speak English a little. -But I read much.” We then chatted about London and the incidents of his -visit until Volna came up. - -“My sister,” I said. As he greeted her I saw him start and look very -closely at her. - -“How do you do?” he said in English, to her complete discomfiture, -holding out his hand. I read her signals of distress and sailed in to -the rescue. - -“My sister is unfortunately dumb,” I said. - -“How sad,” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. Then he looked puzzled. -“She bears a remarkable resemblance to a very beautiful woman whom I -knew in the long ago. Twenty years and more. She is a Pole, and is now -the Countess Drakona. How very strange.” - -“Yes, these chance likenesses are very extraordinary,” I said, gravely. -“Come, Peggy, we must get on,” I added to Volna, in English, and put -her in the saddle again. - -“How very sad,” he repeated, mournfully. “And yet how clever of her to -be able to make herself understood in buying things.” - -“The education of the dumb in England is almost perfect. Signs are -their language, you know,” I replied, as I shook hands with him and -mounted. - -He looked after us very thoughtfully, and when presently I turned, he -waved his hand to me and I saw him walk a few paces and then enter the -shop where Volna had made her purchases. - -“I think we’ll rattle on again for a bit. He’s going to find out that -yours is a singular form of aphasia, and only affects your knowledge of -English. Perhaps he’ll class it as a case for the scientists; but more -likely as one of suspicious ignorance.” - -“Who can he be?” asked Volna. - -“He gave me his name as Father Ambrose.” - -“I have heard my mother speak of him.” - -“He spoke of her as a very beautiful woman.” - -“And she is still beautiful.” - -“And he said how closely you resembled her.” - -Volna laughed. “Bob mustn’t be conventional. That’s a sort of ball-room -dandy’s speech. And no brother talks like it.” - -“Brothers don’t always say all they think.” - -“But they keep their thoughts to themselves.” - -“I know what I think about my sister,” said I. - -She smiled again, and glanced at me. “Don’t you think I bought a huge -parcel, Bob?” - -“If we eat all that, it will last us farther than Cracow. But I know -what it means generally, when a girl goes shopping.” - -“Yes, she thinks of things that are necessary. There are loaves in -there for the horses.” - -“I never thought of them,” I admitted. - -“One of us must think sensibly,” she retorted. - -“True for you. But did you find out anything about the road to Solden?” - -“No. A woman served me, and she knew nothing.” - -“Well, I found out from the priest. At the top of the hill yonder the -road forks and that to the left will take us to Cracow, forty miles.” - -“I wonder what he is thinking now he knows I am no mute.” - -“Men make all sorts of mistakes, and I shouldn’t be in the least -surprised if he believes we are just--running away together.” - -“Bob! How ridiculous!” she cried, with a merry laugh, her cheeks -aflush. “Let us get on;” and she shook the reins, and dashed on ahead -from me. - -When we reached the forked roads at the top of the hill I glanced at -my watch. It was nearly half-past three, and we had still forty miles -to cover on an unknown road; it had taken us some three hours to do -about twenty miles in daylight with the horses fresh--how long would -they take to finish the journey mostly in the dark? I shook my head -dubiously over the sum. - -“We’ll ride on a couple of miles or so and then find a spot for our -picnic; but we can’t spare more than half an hour at the outside.” - -Black bread, sausage, and village cheese do not make an epicurean -lunch; but Volna and I had rich hunger sauce, and were more than -satisfied. We fed the horses while we were eating, to save time, and -in half an hour we were ready for the road again. There was no longer -any doubt that the weather was going to change. As we mounted there -were very ominous banks of dark sullen clouds. Rain or snow would fall -within a few hours: but I could only hope it would be rain. - -“I fancy we’ve shaken off any pursuit even if any one started out to -follow us,” I said. - -“We are going to have some weather, too, that will help us. I hope Bob -doesn’t mind riding in the wet.” - -“You guessed the thought in my mind, eh?” - -“No. I’m used to reading weather signs. The rain never hurts me. I’ve -been out for hours in it. But we shan’t have much for an hour or two, -you’ll find.” - -“We’d better make the most of our time then.” - -We rode as fast as we dared push the horses in view of the distance to -be covered. I eased my animal up the hills, and now and again took a -spell of half a mile or so on foot; but despite this, I was concerned -to find that before we had covered another twenty miles he began to -show signs of fatigue. - -Then the storm burst upon us. It was rain, not snow; but rain in almost -tropical force. It would not have been so bad, had we known the road; -but we had already had to stop several times to make sure we were going -right. - -For two hours we plodded through a pelting storm until I was drenched -and feared that Volna must be in the same condition. - -“I wouldn’t care if I could see,” she said once. It was pitch dark, and -we could only go at a walking pace. - -“I shouldn’t care if you were not wet,” I answered, “though I confess -I’d like to know where we are.” - -“I am not very wet,” she said. “My fur cloak protects me. We shall get -somewhere in the end.” - -“In England we have a civilized habit of putting up sign posts,” I -grumbled, as we came to another forked road and I was at a loss which -to choose. “All the roads seem to be twins in this place.” - -Which way to choose I could not even guess. I tried to judge which was -the better road; but both appeared equally bad. - -“Let the horses decide,” said Volna. - -“Yours is the fresher of the two, and better able to use his instinct.” - -“Yours is much keener to get to a stable,” she laughed. - -I walked mine back a little distance and then gave him his head. He -walked deliberately to the side of the road, and began to crop the -grass. - -Volna tried hers then; and he went as far as the fork where he waited -for the other to join him. Then they both moved on to the left. - -“So be it,” said I, and we let them go as they would. - -“It’s not raining so fast,” declared Volna, presently. “Shall we draw -up under a tree and give them the rest of the bread?” - -“It’ll be nice soft food,” I laughed. - -“I can wring my cloak, too, and ease the weight from my horse a -little.” - -We pulled up under a tree and gave the horses the bread, munching a -crust ourselves, and making the best of things. Volna’s pluck was -inextinguishable; and she laughed and joked over her plight as she -wrung out the wet. - -I struck a match and looked at my watch, and was startled to find it -was nearly ten o’clock. - -I told Volna and we started again. The rain was much less and the -darkness had lifted somewhat; but I led my horse now instead of riding. - -Presently I felt the road getting suspiciously soft and grassy, and -some minutes afterwards I stumbled up against a gate which blocked the -way and led into a wood. - -There was nothing for it but to go back to the forked road. To make -matters worse, the rain started again and came pouring down even more -violently than before. - -Nor was that the worst. We got off the road again, and once more were -brought to a standstill by a gate. - -“It looks as though we were lost,” I said. - -“We’ve about reached the bottom of our troubles, I should think,” -replied Volna, still cheery. “But if the chance offered, I should like -to put off the rest of the ride till daylight. And look, there’s a -light.” She pointed to it gleefully, away to our left. - -We made our way to it with trouble, and found that it came from the -lower window of a small house. - -I rapped at the door; and the light was instantly extinguished. - -I had to knock again twice, and then a window above was opened, and a -woman put her head out. - -“Who are you, and what do you want? Are you the police?” - -“Police? No. We have lost our way, and want shelter.” - -“There’s no one in the house but me. How many are you?” - -“Two. Myself and my sister. We can pay you well.” - -She drew her head in for a minute, and then looked out again and said. -“Are you sure you’re only two? Let’s see you.” We stood back that she -could do so. “I’ll come down,” she said. - -When she opened the door the light she held revealed to me one of the -most forbidding faces I have ever seen on a woman’s shoulders. - -“You’ve got horses, have you? You must stall them in the shed.” - -She handed me a lantern, and Volna came with me. When we had fumbled -our way to the shed, and tied the horses up, giving them some hay we -found in the place, we went back to the house. - -She admitted us without more delay and as soon as we were inside, -locked and bolted the door. “A lone woman needs to be careful,” she -said in explanation, as she led us into a room at the side where a fire -was burning. - -Two glasses and a spirit bottle were on the table, and a smell of rank -tobacco smoke hung about the place. - -Volna went in first, and the woman, having placed the light upon the -table, stood holding the door for us to pass. - -“We are much obliged to you,” I said, and as I turned to her I caught -sight of a man’s face peering through the half closed door of a dark -room across the passage. - -“I’ll do my best for you,” she answered. “Dry yourselves by the fire. -I’ll be back in a moment.” With that she went out, and I heard her turn -the key softly upon us. - -It might mean nothing; but--well, I did not tell Volna. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -WHAT HAPPENED IN THE COTTAGE - - -Volna walked up to the wood fire, took off her fur turban, shook it, -and laughed. - -“Were you ever as wet before? I never was.” - -“I wonder if the woman can find you something to put on while the -clothes are dried. What do you make of her?” - -“She about fits the place,” she replied, glancing round the room. - -A wooden bench, a couple of wooden armchairs, a square table and a -black oak chest of drawers with some unpainted shelving over it for -crockery, pots, and pans, constituted the furniture; and for decoration -a couple of crude coloured prints, scriptural in subject and grimy with -age, hung over the fireplace with a piece of broken looking glass on a -string between them. - -“Rough,” I said, in answer to her look. - -“It might be dirtier. It is always a good sign when a woman’s care can -be traced.” - -“She said she was a lone woman, so she can’t have much else to do -except look after the place.” - -Volna smiled. “Didn’t you see those?” and she pointed to a pair of -men’s boots by the chest of drawers. “Probably wood cutter or charcoal -burner or something of that sort; often very honest people.” - -I thought of the man’s face I had seen and said nothing. - -“Have you your flask?” I took it out. “Good, then I shall warm some -water and you must have a hot drink;” and in a minute she had cleaned a -small saucepan and had the water on the fire. - -“I wish the woman would come back,” I grumbled. “I want you to get your -wet clothes off.” - -“I shouldn’t call her,” replied Volna. - -“Why not?” - -“I shouldn’t let her know that we know she locked the door.” - -“Did you notice that?” - -“That’s deliciously man-like, Bob. Of course we’re in a very queer -place; but we may as well pretend we see nothing odd and suspect -nothing. We’re not really blind, however.” - -“I begin to think Peggy’s more wonderful than ever,” said I with a -chuckle. - -The woman came in then with a bundle of clothes on her arm; and her -manner was very different. She was a hideous creature truly; the upper -part of her face seamed with what might have been two knife slashes, -and one cheek quite disfigured with marks like those which vitriol -leaves. When she spoke or smiled her mouth drew up to the side, -disclosing long yellow fangs of teeth. - -“Ah, that’s right; a hot drink you’re making. You’re both wet to the -skin, aren’t you? I’ve rummaged up some clothes for you. I’ll make you -as comfortable as I can; but I’m only a poor woman----” - -“You’re a very kind one,” said Volna, looking at the clothes she had -brought. - -“They are only rough, you know; but the best I can manage.” - -“Water’s hot, Bob,” cried Volna. “Get me a cloth to wipe these -glasses,” she said to the woman; and the moment her back was turned -Volna slipped the papers from her dress and handed them to me. We mixed -some brandy and water and I insisted upon her drinking some. - -“I’ve set a candle in the room opposite for you,” said the woman. - -“Call me when you’re ready, Peggy;” and I went off with the clothes she -had brought for me. - -I had just completed the change when I heard a stealthy step in -the passage. I was listening for it, indeed, and had not shut the -door. Some one tried to shut it for me. I stopped that and pulled it -wide open. It was the man whose face I had seen before--long, thin, -cadaverous and cunning, with close set, ferrety eyes. - -“Come in,” I said, cheerfully. - -He started very uneasily and then mumbled: “I thought you didn’t know -it was open.” - -“All right. I suppose these are your things. I’m much obliged to you.” - -“They’re my best,” he answered. “You’re welcome.” - -Now he was some four inches shorter than I, whereas the clothes were -quite long enough for me; and the discrepancy did not escape me, nor -tend to lessen my suspicions. - -He stood watching me silently as I finished the change and took out the -contents of my pockets. But I was careful not to let him see that I had -a weapon. - -In the silence I could hear the rain streaming down. - -“It’s a fearful night,” I said; “your wife said you weren’t at home.” - -“Just come in.” - -“You managed to keep dry.” - -He pretended not to hear me. “It won’t last much longer. How did you -come here?” - -“We got off the road in the dark and saw a light in your window.” - -“Strangers here, maybe?” I caught a quick furtive glance with a gleam -of considerable interest in the shifty eyes. - -“I don’t think I’ve ever been in this particular spot before; but I -shall know better when I see it by daylight. Anybody can get lost in -the dark.” - -“Going far?” - -“Out for a ride and got caught in the storm. Will you see to the horses -for me?” - -“I have. Couple of good ones. One of them is nearly done up. You’ve -come far?” - -At that moment Volna opened the door of the other room and called me. -She burst into a merry laugh at the sight of me and I grinned back at -her. - -“You look as if you were made up as a peasant for theatricals,” I said. - -“I don’t know what you’re like. But I’m dry. Think of it, Bob, dry once -more.” - -I carried in my wet things and they were soon steaming by the fire with -hers. The woman hustled about and put some black bread and vile cheese -on the table; while the man stood fidgetting about sheepishly by the -door. - -“It’s all I’ve got to eat; but I can make you some coffee.” - -“The very thing,” said Volna. - -“Fetch the coffee, Ivan,” said the woman. The man hesitated, glanced at -her, and then shuffled away. - -“Come on, Bob, I’m famished,” cried Volna, sitting down and cutting -some bread. - -“Ivan says your horse is done up,” said the woman. “You must be a long -way from home.” - -“Further than you think,” replied Volna. “We’re English.” - -“You didn’t ride from England?” she asked stupidly. - -“You dear soul, there’s the sea between England and here.” - -“But you’re strangers?” - -“Some more bread, Bob?” and as she bent down to cut it she whispered in -French to me: “She’s asked that question a dozen times, trying to pump -me all the time.” - -“Strangers?” I said to the woman. “Of course we are. Tourists. Don’t -know a soul for many a mile about here and not a soul knows us. But you -needn’t be afraid. We can pay you;” and I took out a handful of money -and tossed a gold piece across to her. - -It was worth the money to see the greedy avaricious light that leapt in -her eyes. But Volna looked puzzled and a little alarmed at this act of -mine. - -“What a time that man is getting the coffee,” the woman said. “I -suppose he can’t find it;” and she went out of the room. - -“Why did you do that?” asked Volna. - -“Why not? It was the answer she wanted, and it’s quite a relief to be -able to tell the truth.” - -“Do you suspect anything?” - -“I think the man is a long time finding such a thing as coffee and I -wonder they don’t keep it here with the rest of their eatables;” and -Volna shewed that she understood me. - -The two came back wrangling: she scolding him for his delay; he -protesting he didn’t know where she kept things. They were clumsy -actors, however. - -The woman made some coffee then and set it on the table. “I’m thinking -where I’ll put you to sleep,” she said. “You can have our bed and -welcome,” she added to Volna; “but for your brother, I’ll have to make -one up somehow. You see we’re only poor folks. But we’ll manage. Come, -Ivan.” - -I was stirring my coffee and put it to my lips as they went out; and -the woman turned and saw me. This time instead of locking the door upon -us, they left it ajar. - -It was becoming as plain as print. - -I set down the cup, untasted, of course, and talked in a fairly loud -tone about the kindness of the two and how good the coffee tasted; and -Volna taking her cue from me agreed. - -Then we all but emptied the two cups into a jug and hid it away, and -went on talking unconcernedly. Presently I stole to the door and -listened. The two were in the upper part of the house. - -Volna, I could see now, was beginning to grow nervous. - -“It’s all right. We can act much better than they, and there isn’t a -thing to fear.” - -Her brow wrinkled. “I think Peggy doesn’t want to be left alone, Bob,” -she said. - -“You’ll have to make shift with that wooden settle; but you may go to -sleep without a thought.” - -“What do you think they mean to do?” - -“They’ve half done what they meant and we shall soon know the rest. The -coffee is drugged of course, and they think we’ve drunk it. Now, lie -down and just go off to sleep. I’ve dried my last three cigars and am -going to smoke one of them.” - -I settled her on the wooden bench and having lighted my cigar, rummaged -about and found an oily rag with which I cleaned my revolver very -carefully, reloaded it and kept it at hand. - -I then sat down by the fire smoking and thinking and waiting. It -was evident enough that we had got into the hands of some very ugly -customers. I recalled several strange tales of dark deeds done in these -wild and lonely parts of the country; and the circumstances now lent -themselves readily to villainy. - -They had got from us the fact that we were strangers, and I had -purposely made no hesitation in shewing that we had plenty of money. -That they had tried in their clumsy way to drug us, I had no doubt -whatever; and the only question was what they meant to do next. - -The fear in the woman’s first question whether we were the police, and -her statement that the man was not in the house, gave a clue to their -character; and the change in manner, the assumption of friendliness, -the suggestiveness of sending the man to find the coffee; indeed all -these circumstances fitted together too well to leave any doubt that -some devilment was on foot. - -I did not feel the least alarmed, however. I felt myself more than -a match for the two in any rough and tumble that was to come; I was -thoroughly on my guard; and had a weapon and knew well enough how to -use it. As a matter of fact it was we rather than they who were laying -the snare. - -Somewhere between half an hour and an hour passed without a sound in -the house. I had finished my cigar and tossed it away and was gazing -into the flickering embers of the fire, when I heard the stairs creak -slightly. A glance shewed me that Volna was asleep; a tribute this, -indeed, to her trust in me. - -I dropped my head as though I, too, were asleep and breathed heavily. I -was very curious to know what was to happen. - -In a short while the door was pushed open noiselessly and the woman put -her head in. I had already set her down for the head of the firm, as -the more courageous of the pair of rascals. - -She looked at us both for some moments and then entered and crept -towards Volna. Not daring to let her go too near, I shifted my position -and grunted, as if uneasy in my sleep. This drew her attention to me, -as I intended, and she stopped and stared at me. - -Next she moved to the table and took up the two cups one after another; -glanced from them to us in turn; and concluding that we had drunk the -contents, set them down with a slight grunt of satisfaction. - -The logs slipped in the fire at that moment with a shower of sparks. -She started and took a quick step towards the door. - -Thinking she was going I moved, breathed very heavily and blinked at -her as though almost overcome with sleep. - -“I came for the light,” she said in a low voice. “Our candle’s out.” - -For answer I nodded, waved my hand clumsily to signify she could take -it, attempted to rise and fell back in my chair, huddled together as if -completely overcome with stupor. - -She stood with the lamp in her hand as if planning what to do next; a -look of diabolical evil on her hideous face. Then slowly and cautiously -she came towards me. Having satisfied myself that she had no knife or -weapon I shut my eyes and let her hold the light close to my face. I -could feel her breath as she bent forward to listen to my breathing. - -After a moment she moved away and crossed to Volna, whom she examined -with the same scrutiny. A low sigh of satisfaction escaped her, as she -turned away and went out of the room, carrying the lamp with her. I -heard the stairs creak as she crept up them. - -Then I woke Volna. “Don’t be frightened. Pretend to be asleep. -Something is going to happen; the woman has been in to make sure that -we are asleep; and will no doubt be back in a moment.” - -I went back to my chair and waited, ready to resume my extremely -uncomfortable position at a moment’s notice. - -Shortly afterwards the stairs creaked again, more noisily this time; -probably under the heavier weight of them both; but instead of entering -the room the steps went along the passage. Then I heard sounds in the -distance; just muffled confused noises of knocking and stamping. What -caused them I could not conjecture. - -Soon after they had ceased, the footsteps came again into the passage, -and a moving streak of light shewed through the door of our room. This -time something weighty was set down with a heavy bump just outside -the door; a most unaccountable rustling followed; and then the two -whispered together. In the pause a pungent odour of paraffin came from -the lamp they had. - -All sorts of weird conjectures crowded into my thoughts as to the -possible meaning of this development. Volna had heard it all and looked -at me in bewilderment. I motioned her to keep silence. - -Another journey was made up the creaky staircase. It was the man who -went, and while he was away the woman looked in upon us. I saw to my -surprise this time that she wore her bonnet. - -As the man’s tread was on the stairs again she drew back and in a -whisper loud enough to reach us, she said: “It’s all right, you coward. -They’re both off fast enough. You can do it safely now. The man first, -mind.” - -The next moment the door was pushed wide open and they both entered -stealthily. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -A VERY TIGHT CORNER - - -The suspense of the two or three moments which followed the entrance of -the pair constituted an ordeal not to be forgotten. That Volna mastered -herself sufficiently to pass through it without a sign or sound, was -the greatest proof of her courage she could have given. - -It was less trying for me. I had witnessed the woman’s former visit, -and, despite her ominous whisper to her husband, had come to the -conclusion that no attempt was to be made on our lives. Moreover I was -armed. But Volna knew nothing of this. I had only been able to whisper -a hurried and very indefinite warning to her, calculated, despite my -assurance, to work up her fears to a high strain. - -They stood still for some moments; the man slightly in front of his -wife, who set a candle she was carrying down behind her. The faces of -both then caught the red gleam from the embers of the fire; and so evil -looking a couple I hope never to see again. - -The man’s long, thin, cunning face was strained and intense, and his -narrow treacherous eyes glanced from me to Volna and back from Volna -to me, as if in doubt which to attack first. Just behind him stood the -tall, gaunt, and angular form of the woman inciting him; her eyes -gleaming with excitement, her lips parted and drawn in a snarl to one -side, and every line, cicatrice and seam of her scarred repulsive -features brought into strong relief by the ruddy gleam of the log fire. -She looked a veritable hag of evil, utterly detestable, deadly, and -loathsome. - -“The man first,” she whispered, jogging her accomplice. - -He glanced half round to her, irritable, and then I saw that he was -carrying a length of cord. - -He began to creep slowly toward me until Volna, as she confessed -afterwards, could endure it no longer. She sprang up and called me. - -In another moment I was on my feet; and before the two could recover -from their astonishment, I sprang past them, slammed the door, and set -my back against it, my hand on my revolver. - -“Now perhaps you’ll tell me what this means?” - -The woman was for fighting and stood at bay like a beast, just robbed -of its intended victim. But the man was of poorer stuff, and cowered -ashen white and speechless. - -“Mayn’t we move about our own house?” asked the woman. “Ivan, if you’re -a man, you won’t stand this.” - -But Ivan had no sort of fight in him. He clapped his hands to his face -and sank into my chair by the fire. The hag looked his way and swore at -him with a snarl of contempt. - -“Come now, what does this mean?” - -“It means that if you don’t like it, you can clear out, the pair of -you;” and she turned fiercely on Volna. “Coming here with your lies -about being lost, and wanting to rob poor and honest folk, and then -trumping up a lying accusation. Who are you, I’d like to know.” - -Her assurance was as brazen as her courage was unquestionable; I own I -was at a loss what to do. - -“That won’t do with me. Your one chance is to tell the truth,” I said. - -“You’re a man, aren’t you, to call a woman a liar? Do you hear that, -Ivan?” and she went to him and shook him. “Get up, pig: don’t sit -shaking there when you hear me abused by this thief of the night.” She -hauled him to his feet; and Volna took the opportunity of crossing to -my side. - -“You mustn’t talk like that here,” he said with a sort of hang-dog -manner. - -“I’d rather talk to you than to the woman there. Now you----” - -“You hear that, Ivan. Strike him for that. You deal with him and I’ll -look after the wench.” She pushed him toward me and seemed for the -moment to infect him with some of her own desperate courage. - -“If you don’t like it, go,” he said. - -“No, they shan’t go now,” interrupted the fury. “We daren’t let them go -now, you fool. You know. Go on.” - -He still hung back, however, and then she suddenly wrenched open a -drawer and took out a formidable looking chopper. - -“Here, Ivan, now will you do it? Down with the man and leave the wench -to me. It will be death if we don’t do it and get away.” - -The remnants of his courage awoke when he felt the weapon in his hand; -and I heard Volna catch her breath at the look which gradually stole -into his beady, cruel eyes, as he looked at me. - -Goaded by the woman’s taunts and the fear-thoughts which her words had -started, he took a couple of stealthy steps toward me while the woman -went round the table to reach Volna. - -Just as he was raising his weapon to rush at me, I whipped my revolver -out and covered him. - -“Drop that; you murderous devil,” I cried, in a ringing tone. - -With a cry of fear he started back and let the chopper fall on the -brick floor. In a moment I had possession of it, and handed my pistol -to Volna. - -“If she moves, use it,” I said. - -But the sudden turning of the tables had knocked the fight even out of -the virago of a woman. The man no longer counted. He stumbled back and -cowered against the wall, getting as far away from me as possible, and -just stared at me beside himself with fright. - -“Now we can talk,” I said. - -“We didn’t mean anything,” declared the woman. “We were only trying to -frighten you so that we might get safely out of the room. I’m sure I -tried to do all I could for you; giving you food and----” - -“That’ll do. Go to that end of the room.” She obeyed me. “Now answer -my questions. Why did you come stealing into the room just now--before -this time?” - -“I only wanted to see you were all right and to fetch the lamp. I’ve -done my best for you,” she murmured in a whining, canting, fawning tone. - -“You won’t answer, eh? Well, I’ll give your man a chance. Now you, tell -me what was that rope for that you brought in?” - -The woman tried to reply, but I silenced her. The man glared at me -speechless and helpless. - -“Your only chance is to tell the truth. You were going to tie me up -with it? Confess.” - -“No, no, no,” he gasped through his pallid lips. - -“You had two ropes; one for me and one for my sister here.” - -“No, no, no,” he repeated. - -“You know I speak the truth. But if you won’t confess that, tell me why -you drugged that coffee you gave me.” - -The woman broke out again declaring by all the saints that I must -be mad to ask such a question. The man only gazed stupidly at me in -silence. - -“Let him drink it then,” said Volna; and the woman’s start at the -shrewd suggestion told me that it had struck home. - -“Yes, that’s the test,” I agreed readily. “Will you get that jug?” - -Volna took out the jug and poured the coffee back into the cups. - -They both watched her intently as she did this, turning now and then -from her to me, with swift glances of speculative fear. - -“Now if this is not drugged or poisoned, drink it;” and I took one of -the cups and held it toward the man; “Quick,” I cried, so sternly that -he trembled. His eyes were everywhere except on my face, and his lips -moved convulsively. - -“Drink it, fool,” said the woman with a sneer. - -He stretched out his hand toward the cup, and then with a swift gesture -struck at it and dashed it to the ground. - -“I knew it. I need no more proof,” I declared. - -“I’ll drink it,” cried the woman, making a snatch at the cup on the -table. But I caught her hand, and Volna took away the cup. - -“No, no, that is for the police,” I said. - -At the mention of the police an angry oath leapt from her lips and she -strove desperately to wrench her hand from my grip to get the cup. I -had to use some violence to thrust her back. - -Foiled in the effort to destroy the traces of the drug, her rage -completely mastered her; and being unable to vent it upon us, she -turned upon the man. With a running accompaniment of abuse and -reproaches as the cause of the trouble she seized him and shook him -till his teeth rattled like castanets, and then clouted and kicked him -and tore at him with her nails like a fiend incarnate until he fell -huddled up on the floor howling to her to stop. - -Volna opened the door and went out to escape the din and repulsive -sight and then called me hurriedly. - -In a moment the whole infernal scheme of the two was made clear. The -heavy burden which we had heard set down outside the door and which had -so puzzled me was explained, as well as the mysterious rustling which -had set me wondering. - -The one was a cask half full of petroleum; the other a huge heap of -shavings, chips and hay, ready saturated with petroleum. - -“They meant to bind us in our sleep and fire the house. I did not think -there could be such fiends,” said Volna, trembling. - -It was too obvious to question. The heap of shavings laid ready for -lighting told its own story; and with the petroleum thrown into the -room where we were to have been left bound and unconscious, nothing -could have saved us. - -Volna clung to my arm faint and cold with the horror of it. “Let us -go,” she whispered. - -“That is why the woman was dressed to go out. I see it now. That fear -of hers of the police, the noise we heard outside; they were expecting -the police and meant to fly on our horses. Such devils ought not to be -allowed to escape.” - -But it was obvious that we dared not run the risk of denouncing them. - -“Let us go,” said Volna again. “The very air of the place makes me -faint and ill.” - -I went back into the room. - -“I have found out all your infernal scheme. Get out of here, and keep -out of sight, lest I take the law in my own hands;” and I drew the -revolver again to emphasize my words. - -The man was seemingly afraid to move; so I dragged him to his feet, -hauled him to the door and flung him down in the passage. “Upstairs -with you and if I catch so much as a glimpse of you I’ll shoot you like -the murderous skunk you are.” - -He crawled away from my feet and slunk up the creaking staircase -shaking in every limb and casting frightened glances behind him. - -“What are you going to do?” asked the woman, coming to the door. - -“Hold your tongue,” I thundered. “Go to the villain you egged on to do -this thing. Quick, or----” She was scared by my rage and went without -another word. - -“Shall I change?” asked Volna. - -I nodded. “And bring me my things. I’ll stop on guard here.” - -I heard the two muttering and wrangling in the room above; but neither -made any attempt to come down; and in some few minutes we were ready. - -“We’ll go together and get the horses,” I said to Volna; and was in the -act of opening the door when I started involuntarily as some one beat -a loud peremptory summons on the panel. - -“Open the door there, open,” called a voice. - -Volna started and clutched my arm. “What shall we do?” - -If it was the police, we were caught like rats in a trap. - -“We must brazen it out,” I said. - -“The papers?” she whispered. The knocking was repeated more loudly and -insistently than before. “Open there, at once. I say.” - -“See if there’s fire enough to burn them.” - -She ran back into the room. - -“Who is there?” I called. - -“The police. Open or we shall break in.” - -To shew hesitation would be fatal. So I unfastened the door and threw -it open. - -At that moment, Volna came back and shook her head. - -Two men entered. “You are our prisoners,” cried the first comer. “If -you resist the consequences will be on your heads.” - -“We don’t resist. I’m glad you’ve come.” - -They seized and held us both; the man who took me snatching the -revolver which was still in my hand. - -“Ah, a police weapon,” he said, significantly, and shewed it to his -companion, who appeared to be in command. - -“Search them both for any more weapons,” came the order, sharp and -ringing. - -“Wait a moment. There is a mistake here,” I said. - -“You’ve made it then, in letting us net you here so easily;” and they -both laughed. - -“What is the charge against us?” I asked. - -It was about as tight a corner as fate in an ill-natured mood could -have devised for us. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE HAG TO THE RESCUE - - -I knew enough of the methods of the police not to lay too much emphasis -at the outset upon the fact that they had blundered. The police are -pretty much the same all the world over. Charge them with blundering, -and they will exhaust every resource to disprove the charge; and in the -meantime, you who have made it are getting badly squeezed. - -Moreover, I was not certain that it was a blunder. I hoped they were -after the villainous couple who lived in the house, and that in the -haste and confusion of the moment we had been mistaken for them. But it -was quite possible Volna and I had been tracked, and were really the -prisoners they sought. - -In any case it was highly dangerous for us to be in their hands, and -we should need to keep cool heads to get out again, without the fact -becoming known that we were fugitives. - -As it was, only an accident prevented the incriminating papers from -being immediately found. Just the luck that I had told Volna to try and -burn them and had not taken them back from her. The search to which she -was subjected was little more than formal; but my pockets were all -overhauled, and my papers taken out and examined. - -I was not so foolish as to resist; but I began to feel pretty indignant -when papers, money, and all, were retained by the leader. - -“How did you get this?” he asked, holding up the police revolver. -He appeared to attach great importance to my possession of it. This -interested me greatly. That I had taken it from the police agent on the -Devil’s Staircase would certainly be known; and if he was in search of -us, it was a sufficient proof that we were the persons wanted. I had to -get at that indirectly. - -“If you will permit me I will give you an exact report of what has -happened here, and that will account for everything.” - -“All I want is a plain answer to my question. No long round-about, -lying story.” - -There was no help for it. I must lie. So I did it boldly. “Most -fortunately I got the revolver here,” I said. - -“You’re a cool hand,” was the sneering reply. “But it won’t do you any -good to lie to me.” - -“Fortunately, I mean, because it saved my life and that of my sister -here. We were attacked----” - -“Do you mean there are any others in the house?” he broke in. - -“Certainly I do. The two wretches who appear to have been living here -are in a room above.” - -Both the man and his wife had kept as quiet as mutes all this time. -But they had evidently been listening, for at that moment the door -above was opened, and the two came out. - -“Is that the police? Is that the police?” cried the woman. “Heaven, and -the blessed Virgin above be praised. We’ve been nearly murdered by the -two villains there. You’ll protect us now, won’t you? Praise to the -Holy Saints for having sent you to our assistance.” - -“What’s all this?” - -The couple came running down the stairs and threw themselves on their -knees; the woman pouring out a voluble account of how they had been -attacked by us and their lives threatened, mingled with thanks for -their deliverance, entreaties to protect them, and an urgent warning to -pay special attention to me as a dangerous and murderous villain. - -I foresaw a very awkward complication. When two parties accuse each -other, the police rule is to arrest both. - -The leader was obviously perplexed. “What is your name?” he said to me; -and before I could reply the woman burst in. - -“Ivan Krempel, and that’s Nita, his wife,” she cried. “They’ve been -using the house for days and days past.” - -I attempted to deny this; but he silenced me. “And your names,” he -asked the woman. - -“This is my husband, Peter Vranowski, the woodcutter; I am Anna his -wife. We came last week from Potzden in Silesia, and have been lodging -here with these Krempels. We thought they were honest folks like -ourselves.” - -“You are the man I am searching for,” he said, turning to me. “Ivan -Krempel, and his wife, Nita.” - -This was good news in a way. He was not after the Garretts, and I could -safely use that name. - -“I can understand your perplexity,” I said calmly. “But this woman is -lying. We are English; Robert Garrett and Margaret Garrett, brother and -sister. Caught by the storm to-night, we came here for shelter, and -narrowly escaped death at the hands of these two.” - -“But these people say you are the Krempels.” - -“So they are. So they are. The holy Virgin knows I speak the truth,” -protested the old hag. - -“The proof is in your hands. Our passports are among the papers which -you have taken from me.” - -“Go into the room there, all of you,” he answered, after a pause. I led -the way with Volna and the rest followed. “Get a light,” he said to -Volna, the candle having been extinguished in the former scrimmage. - -“I don’t know where to look for one. There was a lamp here, but the -woman took it away.” - -“Listen to her. Listen to her. Oh, the liar, when she carried it -upstairs with her own hands,” cried the hag. - -“Go upstairs and see if it’s there,” he told his man, who went and -returned carrying it. - -“The woman was right in that,” said the officer significantly. - -“She would very naturally know where she herself took it,” I exclaimed; -but he was as pig-headed as his class, and repeated his statements, -adding to my concern, “I don’t see how I can decide this. It’s beyond -me.” - -“There are my papers,” I reminded him. “But surely you have only to -look at that man and his wife, and contrast them with my sister and -myself to see the difference. You must have some description of them.” - -He mumbled to himself and began to finger my papers. “I don’t see -anything here to guide me.” - -“Those are the passports;” and I pointed to them. - -He unfolded them. “I don’t read English,” he said. - -“You can read the names at any rate and, of course, as a responsible -official so near the frontier you know a passport by sight.” - -“He stole that from an Englishman. He boasted of it to us,” interjected -the woman, who had been watching closely. - -“How am I to know this is yours?” he asked immediately, taking the cue -suggested. - -“There are twenty proofs in those papers, that I am an Englishman; as -well as on myself. See, the pocket book there has the address of a -London maker. Here, the tab on my coat has my tailor’s name in London. -Don’t you hear that I speak with a foreign accent?” - -He examined the pocket book, and the tab on my coat; and appeared to -be impressed. “They seem right; but you may have stolen them,” he said -grudgingly. - -I pressed the advantage. Picking out a couple of Sylvia’s letters I -shewed him they were in English, and addressed to me. - -“That is not Robert--that is B-o-b,” he said suspiciously. - -“Robert in England is shortened into Bob,” I explained; but he shook -his head. - -“Here is one on the same paper, Wyrley Court, Great Malverton. It is -from my mother, ‘My dear son Robert.’ You can read that?” and I stuck -at him until I had deepened the impression. Then I told him briefly -what had happened in the cottage, pointed to the heap of soaked -shavings, the two ropes and a cask of petroleum. - -This was not done without many interruptions from the woman, who -vociferously denied the whole story. - -“You say you were to be drugged? How do you know?” I told him of the -attempt to make the man drink a cup of the coffee. This appealed to -him; and he smiled grimly. - -“Have you still the cup you saved?” - -Volna got it and handed it to him. - -“The woman shall drink it now,” he declared. But the old hag swore that -it was we who had made the coffee, not she; and that we had tried to -rob her. - -“Why should we wish to rob a woodcutter,” I asked. I had his ear now -and he began to have a glimmer of reason. “Besides, our horses are -outside in the shed.” - -“They are our horses,” asserted the woman. - -“Go and look at them. See if a woodcutter, just a week here from -Silesia, as she says, would possess two such animals and saddles. One -is a side saddle, too.” - -He sent his man out; and sat silent. Matters were going better, so I -left him to absorb the points I had made. - -“Will you drink that coffee?” he asked the woman suddenly, very sternly. - -“Why should I drink the poison we refused before?” she cried, and -pointing her scraggy finger at Volna added: “She made it, let her drink -it.” - -“You see,” I said; and he nodded in agreement. - -Then his man came back and reported that the horses were two good ones -and that the saddles were soaked as if they had been exposed to the -fury of the storm; thus bearing out my story. - -But at that point I made a serious blunder. As he turned to listen to -his man’s report I picked up the passports. He saw me, and snatched at -the rest of the papers. - -“You mustn’t touch those,” he said angrily. “Return me those two you -have taken.” - -Instead, I put them back in my pocket. “They are our passports,” I -answered; “I am an Englishman, and have a right to retain them.” - -“Give them to me,” he repeated. - -“They are necessary to me, and I must keep them. I am doing no more -than is my right.” - -Just then his man bent, and whispered in his ear. “I had forgotten,” he -said. “My man here reads English well. Let him see them.” - -“They have already been examined, and I must keep them.” - -“We shall see,” he exclaimed very angrily. With that he gave the rest -of the papers to the man who went through them carefully. - -“I am inclined to believe your story, but your conduct is in some ways -very suspicious. Will you return me those papers?” - -“No. I have shown them. That is enough.” - -Then the man drew his attention to a paper. - -“Ah! What do you say your name is?” - -“Robert Garrett, an Englishman.” - -“Then who is Robert Anstruther?” - -In a moment my heart fell. I knew what was coming. - -“I don’t understand you.” - -“Here is a letter of credit for a large sum of money, the name on it is -Robert Anstruther. Explain your possession of it.” - -I tried to affect indifference. “Oh, that!” I exclaimed. “Robert -Anstruther is my cousin, and I am taking it to him to Cracow.” - -But he didn’t believe me. - -“You say you are English, and this lady your sister?” - -“You have seen our passports proving that.” - -“Now you can speak to her,” he said to his man. I saw the scheme of -course, instantly. - -“You are Miss Garrett?” the man asked in excellent English. - -Lies, like curses, have a nasty habit of coming home to roost; and for -the moment I was at the end of my wits. The game was nearly up. - -“Yes,” said Volna, very nervously. - -“My superior doubts that you are English; just tell me anything you -please that I may hear you speak English!” - -“Don’t bother with him, Peggy,” I declared in English, putting up a -last bluff of indignation. “I’m not going to have my sister bullied. -Put your questions to me.” - -“It is a very simple test.” - -“Hang your simple tests. We’ve had more than enough of your tomfoolery.” - -“You refuse to speak?” he asked her again. - -“Yes. At all events I refuse to allow you or any one else to browbeat -her. We have nearly lost our lives here; and now, when she is all to -pieces, you not only take us for a couple of murderous ruffians and -want to arrest us, but you try this sort of infernal nonsense.” - -I left him in no doubt that I was English, and voluble enough, too. He -shrugged his shoulders, and told his chief the result of the test; and -they whispered together. - -“You are Robert Garrett of Wyrley Hall, Great Malverton?” he asked me -then in English. - -“I’ve told you who I am.” - -“Then how is it that Robert Anstruther in the letter of credit, is -described as of that address?” - -“Can’t one relative live with another?” I laughed. - -“Permit me to see the address on the passport.” - -“There is none. You ought to know that;” and with a scoff I unfolded it -and shewed him. - -“I don’t mean there. I mean on the outside, where the name and address -are both written.” - -“I am going to be baited no longer,” I rattled back sharply, and was -putting the papers away again when he snatched them from me. A glance -was enough to prove the inconsistency of my statement; and he reported -this to his chief, who put my papers away and rose. - -“We shall take you all four to the police office at Schirmskad,” he -decided. - -I had not the least intention of letting him do anything of the kind; -but my unwillingness was as smoke to fire compared with that of the -woman and her husband. She broke out into a violent tirade swearing she -was innocent and would not go. - -“Resist at your peril,” cried the chief in a loud ringing tone; and he -and his man drew their revolvers. - -There was a moment of dead silence. My eyes were on the chief, and I -saw a shadow of perplexity cloud his face. I read it to mean that he -had his doubts how to get us all four away if we resisted. - -It was a queer turn of the wheel that Volna and I should have to make -common cause with the wretches who had attempted our lives. I did not -wish them to escape; but our own escape was much more to us than their -capture at that moment; and like the chief I was thinking intently what -to do. - -Glancing round the room his eye fell on the two ropes. - -“Hand me those cords,” he said to me, curtly. - -“I am no police agent,” I shot back. - -“I call on you to help me.” - -“You forget; you have arrested me. You must do your own work.” - -The old hag’s eyes were on us as she drank in every word; and she -nudged her husband and whispered to him. - -“Don’t you mean to charge them with attempting your lives?” asked the -chief. - -“You have arrested me,” I returned, shortly. - -“Tie those two together,” he said, turning to his assistant. - -To get the cords the man had either to pass the woman or drive her -before him to the end of the room. He tried the latter course and -pushed her violently. She fell to the ground, and, letting out a yell -shrill enough to wake a cataleptic, clasped his legs, and pulled him -down; and in a moment, a noisy rough and tumble scuffle was set going -between the three. - -The chief ran to help his man, and I took advantage of the moment to -open the door and put Volna outside. - -“Stop there,” cried the chief, holding me up with his levelled revolver. - -“I am merely putting my sister out of the way of trouble.” - -“Move an inch and I shall fire,” he shouted. - -But the words scarcely passed his lips before he came staggering wildly -toward me; his arms went up and his pistol was fired in the air. The -woman had in some way extricated herself from the struggle on the -floor, and his back being turned to her as she rose, she pushed him -violently toward me. I caught him and helped myself to his revolver. - -We were struggling together when the woman, who had seized hold of the -lamp, passed us and dashed it violently into the heap of saturated hay -and shavings. - -The effect was instantaneous. A blinding flare of flame burst out, -almost like an explosion, and a volume of pungent suffocating smoke -filled the place. - -Volna, quick-witted as ever, wrenched the door open, and I staggered -out after her into the night, dragging the chief with me. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -FATHER AMBROSE - - -The pendulum of luck had swung over again to our side and I lost no -time in taking advantage of it. I pushed the man away from me at -random, and chanced to send him staggering up against the two police -horses which were tied up close to the door. They were already snorting -with fear at the fire, and they now began to plunge and kick and rear -until they had dragged themselves free and dashed off into the darkness. - -Nor was this all the luck. - -“Come,” I cried to Volna. We ran to the shed and found our own animals -standing ready saddled outside. “They were going to bolt on our -horses,” I said, as I put her in the saddle and then mounted. “Which is -the way?” - -“Any way. We’re in luck; let us trust to it,” I answered; and guided -by the light of the fire which was now consuming the whole house, we -pushed along at random as quickly as we could. Fortune was with us -still. We gained the road, and in a few minutes were rattling back at a -brisk pace along the road we had travelled so laboriously in the storm -some hours before. - -“I had given everything up,” said Volna, when we were breathing the -horses and were able to talk. “I had the papers in my hand ready to -throw them into the blaze.” - -“I am glad you didn’t. We’ll get them through yet; but just how to do -it is the question. We’ve escaped by sheer luck and that old hag’s -devilment in firing the house; but they’ve got the passports, all my -papers and what’s almost as bad, nearly all my money.” - -“I have a little money. But do you think we could get across the -frontier?” - -“We shall have to do it at night, because we must manage to sneak over -somewhere unseen. If we knew the district it would be easier; but even -then we should have to lie low somewhere all through the day. We may -bet on it that when that fellow gets back from the fire he’ll spread -out a pretty wide search party for us.” - -“Does Sylvia ever offer you suggestions?” she asked. - -I smiled. “Has Peggy one?” - -She nodded. “She’s a little bit afraid to offer it.” - -“That’s rather rough on Bob, isn’t it?” - -“Paul always ridicules anything I say--never thinks any woman, but -Katinka, can have a sensible idea.” - -“Why shouldn’t Bob think as much of Peggy’s notions as Paul does of -Katinka’s?” - -“I like that,” she said, answering my smile. “But it’s rather a wild -suggestion.” - -“Let’s have it.” - -“Couldn’t we go back to that village, Kervatje, and get Father Ambrose -to help us? He was mother’s friend.” - -“Humph! It _is_ rather a wild one, as you say.” - -“I believe we could trust him.” - -“And suppose he said no?” - -“We could have shelter for the day at least and could try any other -plan that offered.” - -“He might give us away.” - -“His eyes didn’t look like that when he spoke of mother.” - -“We’d have to confess we fooled him.” - -“Leave me to do that.” - -“Your instinct is to trust him?” - -“Yes. I feel as sure of him as I did of--of Bob that morning.” - -“That settles it. I can’t mistrust that instinct. Come on;” and off we -rattled again at a pace we relished a deal better than the scarcely -rested horse under me. - -“I wonder what has happened at the cottage,” said Volna when we eased -up later. - -“I have a sort of sneaking hope that the woman got away despite her -villainous attempt on us.” - -“What a fiend of a woman!” - -“Her fiendishness it was that saved us from heaven knows what trouble. -I was cudgelling my wits to know how to get out of the mess. She was a -cunning devil, too, in her way.” - -“And the man, too. A man!” - -“She was the man in that house. Say what you will, it was awfully smart -to spring that accusation against us.” - -“I hope she’ll be punished,” said Volna. - -“Oh, she’ll get there some day--if not now. But you are the wonder to -me. To go through all you have in the last few hours and yet be as -fresh as--as paint. Sylvia has pluck and all that; but she’d go to bed -after a rough and tumble of this sort.” - -“That’s the first thing I shall ask the priest to let me do.” - -“He’ll be a bit surprised when we walk in, I expect,” I laughed. “It’s -a pretty cool thing you’re letting us into.” - -“Do you think there’s any chance of our being followed?” - -“Not yet. I fancy they’ll have their hands full enough with the other -couple. We shall be miles on our way before they could start after us; -and it’s too early for any one to be about to tell them which way we’ve -gone.” - -This proved to be the case. We did not meet a soul until we had ridden -many miles and were nearing the forked road at the top of the hill -which the priest had mentioned to me. There we passed two or three -peasants dressed in their best. - -“That explains it,” I said. - -“What explains what?” - -“Why we have seen no one about. It’s Sunday morning and those people -are going in to mass. Your friend the priest is evidently popular.” - -“Can we reach the village before mass time?” - -“No. We had better finish the journey on foot. My idea is to turn off -somewhere at the bottom of the hill and just leave the horses. We can’t -very well quarter them on the priest as well as ourselves. Besides, it -would cause much more gossip than if we were to arrive on foot. And -gossip is dangerous.” - -On reaching the bottom of the hill, we turned off and rode a mile or -so, when I saw a shed in a very lonely spot on a hill side. I slipped -the saddles off and led the horses through a couple of fields and shut -them into the barn. - -“No one is likely to be there till to-morrow, so we may get them again -this afternoon if necessary,” I said as I returned to Volna with the -bridles. “There’s a bit of feed on the place and that’ll keep them -quiet. Now we’ll hide these things in the wood yonder; and leave the -rest to chance.” - -I buried the saddles under a heap of brushwood, and we made our way -back to the main road and soon reached the village. - -“I feel disgracefully dirty,” said Volna, as one or two of the -villagers eyed us curiously. - -“They’ll only think we’ve come some distance to mass; and they are -accustomed to the sight of dirty people about here.” - -Volna laughed. “Thank you. But even here the people wash themselves on -Sunday.” - -“Here’s the priest’s house, next the church,” I answered irrelevantly. -We walked up to it and just as we reached the door it was opened by a -woman, bonnetted and prayer book in hand. - -I stepped inside without shewing any hesitation; as if we were -expected. “Good-morning. Is Father Ambrose in his study or already at -church?” - -“The Father is in church, sir. You can’t come in, please,” she replied, -resenting our intrusion. - -“I was afraid we should be just too late and too early,” I said lightly -to Volna. “He said before ten or after half-past twelve. But we -couldn’t manage it.” - -“Is the Father expecting you, sir?” - -“Well, not exactly at this moment evidently, or he would have told you -to be ready for us. But we can wait, and my sister will be greatly -obliged to you if you can let her just wash her face and hands.” - -“I am on my way to mass, sir; the Father said nothing to me of your -coming.” - -“So I see, my good soul. But did he not tell you we were likely to come -for breakfast?” - -“The Father fasts until mass on Sunday, sir.” - -“Yes, of course, but I am not a priest: nor is my sister.” - -She hesitated and then led us into the study. - -Volna threw herself with a sigh of fatigue on to one of the hard wooden -chairs; took off her hat and with a smile exclaimed in the most natural -way in the world: “Dear Father Ambrose. He is one of my mother’s -dearest friends.” - -It was such apparently ingenuous evidence of sincerity that the good -woman was instantly and most favourably impressed. - -“Excuse me a minute,” she said, and went out. - -“How readily you tell them, Bob,” said Volna, smiling. - -“It was your acting that carried us through, young lady. Dear Father -Ambrose, indeed. As if you had known him all your life.” - -“I think she’s going to let us stay.” - -She came in again then, having taken off her bonnet. “Will you come -with me?” she said to Volna, who rose. “The Father’s dressing room is -through there, sir,” she added to me, pointing to a door. - -I made use of it promptly; washed and shaved and did what I could to -make myself look less like a tramp, before I returned to the good man’s -study. - -I must confess that the prospect of meeting him was vastly less to my -taste now than it had appeared when we were twenty miles away; and I -paced the floor considerably ill at ease. - -Presently Volna came in, looking as neat and natty as if all the events -of the past day and a half were a dream. - -“How on earth have you managed it?” I cried, gazing at her in sheer -admiration. - -“That is the dearest old soul in whom nature ever planted the curiosity -of a woman. She just fussed over me as though she was a hen and I her -one chicken.” - -“You look as though you hadn’t had anything to make you turn a hair -for the last fortnight. The way you girls manage these renovations -always beats me. Twenty miles away you said you wanted to go to bed; -and here you are as fresh as paint.” - -“You said that before; but it isn’t paint,” she answered. “I’ve another -feeling now than a desire to sleep.” - -“So have I--disinclination to meet the priest. Is that what you mean?” - -She laughed and shook her head. “No, indeed, I mean a desire to eat. I -was never so hungry in my life.” - -“It’s a very human feeling; but I wish you hadn’t said anything about -it,” I replied. - -“I’m a very human individual, if it comes to that. I declare I could -even relish some of that awful woman’s black bread.” - -Most aptly the housekeeper came to tell us she had prepared some -breakfast for us in the opposite room. “The good Father would have -wished this,” she said. “It is the best I can do for the moment.” - -Eggs, ham, potted meats, good white wheaten bread, butter and -delicious coffee needed no sort of apology. It was like a feast for -the gods in our famished eyes; and down we sat at once. We had nearly -finished and were lingering over the coffee and laughing carelessly -together at something which Volna had said--I had my cup in my hand, -I remember--when the door was opened all unexpectedly and the priest -entered. - -I don’t think I ever felt so foolish and confused in my life. I set -the cup down, flushed to the roots of my hair, and rose with a most -shame-faced, down-at-heel manner, stammering some kind of apology, as I -met his grave, protesting, surprised look. - -But Volna came to the rescue with magnificent self-possession. Girls -have these inspirations and beat us hollow in such cases. Without a -sign of awkwardness or self-consciousness she rose and went up to him, -smiling winsomely. - -“Father Ambrose, I am in sore trouble and have come to ask my dear -mother’s old friend to help me.” - -It was an inspiration. Nothing less. All the protest died out of his -eyes in the softened look of puzzled inquiry he bent on her. - -“Your mother?” he repeated, so gently. - -“I am Volna Drakona.” He turned toward me. “That was not the truth -we told you yesterday. Before you condemn us, hear all our story. My -mother’s peril was the reason. You will listen to me?” - -“I do not understand, but your mother’s child could never appeal to me -for a hearing in vain. And this gentleman?” - -“He is Mr. Robert Anstruther, an Englishman, who has risked his liberty -and his life to help me.” - -I saw that this partial explanation only added to the good man’s utter -bewilderment. He stood looking from one to the other of us and then -passed his hand slowly across his brow. Next he laid it gently on -Volna’s head and smoothed her hair while he gazed into her face. - -“Yes, you must be her daughter. Come to my study and just tell me -everything.” - -He opened the door for her and I was following when he turned and said -courteously but with unmistakable significance: “I will speak with you -afterwards, sir.” - -Then the door closed on them. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -“SHE IS BETROTHED” - - -I was by no means sorry that Father Ambrose preferred to see Volna -alone. It was her influence, not mine, which would have any effect -upon him; and it was certain she would be able to exert that influence -better alone than if I were present at the interview. - -I judged, too, that the priest was shrewd enough to see the wisdom -of hearing our story from us separately. I had already told him one -falsehood and Volna had acquiesced in it; so that we could not blame -him for using any caution which his suspicions might prompt. - -That she would win him round to her side, I had little doubt. My faith -in her made me very confident. But what would he do then? What could -he do? How could he, a mere parish priest, help us to turn our failure -into success and get those papers to Cracow? - -I had ample time to meditate upon this, for it was more than an hour -before he came back to me. He looked exceedingly grave and troubled, -and asked me to go to his study. Volna was not there. He took his seat -at his writing-table and waved me to one opposite to him; and for a -moment or two he said nothing. - -I felt very uncomfortable. Somewhat as I used to feel in the old Corpus -days when carpeted by the Head. He pressed his finger tips together, -and when he spoke there was a mixture of censure and kindness in his -tone. - -“Mr. Anstruther, I don’t know how you regard the falsehood you told me -yesterday and induced my friend’s child to act?” - -“It was on the impulse of the moment, and I am compelled to admit it -was only one of many I have had to tell in the last two days. But don’t -think it is my habit to lie.” - -“Your name is really Robert Anstruther.” - -“Yes. But I can give you no proof. My papers were taken----” - -He interrupted with a wave of the hand. “I know. I am aware that I must -take your word.” - -“I have perhaps deserved that word ‘must,’ but it rankles. If you feel -that my action yesterday prevents your believing what I tell you, we -may as well close this conversation at once.” - -“Spoken hastily, like a young man, but not unnatural, perhaps, in -the circumstances. That you should have deceived me with such ready -speciousness is scarcely calculated, however, to convince me of your -good faith. Perhaps you can appreciate that.” - -His cold tone and calm clear glance emphasized this, and it hurt. I -made no reply and dropped my eyes. - -“Can you see that?” - -“You are quite entitled to take your own view of it, of course. But if -the conditions were repeated, I should probably do it again.” - -“Then you would do very wrong, Mr. Anstruther,” he said, with some -warmth. “A falsehood is not only a sin in the eyes of the church, but -wrong in every way.” - -“I daresay you are quite right. I have never tried it as a policy -before, and it has landed us in a pretty bad mess. But if you can show -me how we could have got out of the hands of the police without lying, -I’ll listen readily. And if we had got into them, the mess would have -been much worse than it is.” - -“If you had been candid with me yesterday, all the troubles since then -would have been avoided.” - -“They would also have been avoided if the storm had not overtaken us -and we had not lost our way. But can we do any good by dissecting -causes? I am man enough I hope not to shirk responsibility for my -acts. I take all these lies on my own shoulders. They appeared to be -necessary. The necessity no longer exists, and I shall tell you none. -If you can’t believe me, there is an end of things. That’s all.” - -He sat for perhaps a minute frowning in thoughtful silence. “Will you -tell me exactly all that has occurred?” - -“Has Volna told you?” I asked. - -“Yes; but I wish to hear it from you also.” - -“A natural precaution,” I admitted; and then told him as succinctly as -I could everything from the moment of the meeting at Bratinsk station. - -He listened very closely, interposing some questions now and then, and -when I finished lapsed into thought again. - -Presently, with a smile, he said: “You have left some things -unmentioned.” - -“Not intentionally.” - -“Descriptive of your own acts in places--at least, as told to me.” - -“I have said all that need be said. Volna may take an exaggerated view -of some things.” - -“I think I have done you an injustice, Mr. Anstruther.” - -“That is of no consequence.” - -“Tell me, why did you plunge into this hazardous matter?” - -“I don’t think that matters. Put it that I liked the prospect of an -adventure. That is quite true.” - -“Is it all the truth?” - -“There is no falsehood in it, Father. We’ll leave it there, please.” - -He looked at me very earnestly indeed and then held out his hand. “Will -you let me beg your pardon?” he asked. - -I grasped the hand cordially and shook my head. “No, I will not. If I -had been in your place I should have been much more suspicious. You -hurt me when you thought I might lie to you. But you see now that I -shall not. And that’s all.” - -“The child is very dear to me for her mother’s sake, and I see that -you had absolutely nothing to expect in helping her except the risk and -danger that you ran.” - -“I ran no risk. I have powerful and very influential friends who will -see me through all right.” - -“That I did not understand,” he said quickly. “It makes a difference. -It will be easier.” He spoke rather to himself than to me it seemed. -“You are sure you can rely upon your friends?” he asked presently. - -“My father carried through some large financial matters for the German -Government from time to time, and I myself have had evidence of the -good will of several men high in office in Berlin.” - -“But this is Russia, Mr. Anstruther.” - -“True, but their influence would not stop at the frontier. You may take -it from me, I am in no sort of danger.” - -“What are your plans?” - -“To get those papers through to Cracow. How, may depend upon you in -some measure.” - -He paused and then said slowly: “They are on their way already.” - -I sat up in intense surprise. “On their way? Why, has----” - -He understood the unfinished question and smiled. “No, she has not -taken them. But they will be in Cracow to-night. A day has been -lost--precious hours, perhaps--by your action yesterday.” - -I drew a deep breath of bewilderment. - -“You do not understand the wide-reaching influence of the Fraternity, -Mr. Anstruther, and had better ask no questions. But now that the -papers are gone, what are your plans?” - -“I had not got as far as that. I have none.” - -“You will wish to return to England?” - -I hesitated. There was something behind his question I could not read. -“I suppose so--yes, of course I shall return there. My home is there.” - -He bent a kind but searching look on me. “I hope you think I am your -friend as well as----” he said after a pause, leaving the sentence -unfinished. - -“Oh, yes indeed. I should be sorry not to think so. Is--is Volna going -home to Warsaw?” - -“Have you been quite frank with me? I don’t mean that unkindly,” he -hastened to add in reply to a start from me. “As to your motive in all -this? It will be best to be quite frank. Young folks are young folks -all the world over.” - -“I should be sorry to misunderstand you,” I said. - -“You entered into this thing from love--of adventure only?” - -“As it is over, does my motive matter?” - -He shook his head slowly. “It may. It may. I don’t know. It may. I am -so afraid of appearing impertinent, or of making a mistake. We old -people fall so readily into mistakes,” he said with a deprecating smile. - -“Don’t you think the best way to avoid them is to speak plainly?” - -He picked up a sheet of paper and played with it with a suggestion of -nervousness. “I am tempted to tell you a story, a chapter of my life, -Mr. Anstruther. I was not originally intended for the priesthood; -but was to have married. I was betrothed, in fact. Then something -happened--the result of misunderstanding--I knew afterwards how easily -it could have been avoided, but it was not avoided; other influences -intervened, and--and so the marriage which took place was not mine; -and I am now a priest with just a memory. Does that incline you to any -special frankness with me as to your motives in this?” - -“You mean with regard to Volna?” - -He looked at me again very intently. “You know that she is betrothed?” -he asked. - -“Oh, yes. She told me her uncle’s plans.” - -His look now was more sympathetic and kind than searching; and he -sighed. “Ah, you do not know, I see.” - -“I am not a child, Father Ambrose.” - -“I can say no more. I ought not, perhaps, to have said so much. I am -going to deal with you as a man, Mr. Anstruther. Of course all that has -occurred in these two days must never be mentioned. The dear child’s -future must not be compromised.” - -“It will not pass my lips.” - -“You and I together can secure her safety; I am going to ask your help. -She will remain here until I can get her back safely to Warsaw.” - -“I will do anything to secure her safety.” - -“The one thing you can do is to put yourself in the hands of the -police.” - -“The police?” - -“You say your friends will help you in any explanation.” - -“I don’t follow you yet.” - -“The police have tracked you here from Bratinsk. They were in the -village yesterday evening. They are coming to me again this afternoon. -It happens that my housekeeper’s niece was to have come here to-day--in -a village like this all private matters are public, you know. She is -not coming, but Volna can take her place for the time without any -suspicion being aroused. What you have to do is to cause the police to -believe that Volna has crossed the frontier with you and that you have -returned alone.” - -“How cause them to believe this?” - -“Go and get your horse and ride through the village this afternoon and -call here.” - -“Here!” I cried in astonishment. - -“Yes. I shall then send for the police agents and hand you over to -them, as the man who told me the falsehoods yesterday. This will clear -this house of the danger of any suspicion.” - -I could not restrain a smile, remembering how he had emphasized the -heinousness of falsehoods. “It will at least be in a good cause,” I -said. - -“God forgive me--but the child must be saved, Mr. Anstruther. You’ll do -this?” - -“Why, of course.” - -“And when your trouble is over, you will go to England?” - -“One thing at a time. They might send me to Siberia.” - -“It will be best so,” he said earnestly. - -“What? Siberia for me?” I laughed. - -“No, no. God forbid. England--England as soon as you can.” - -“And Volna? Does she--know of this?” - -“Indeed, no. Her one thought is of the trouble she may already have -brought upon you. She would never agree to it.” - -I believed that. “Should I--see her to--to say good-bye?” - -This perplexed him. “It would be better not, but”--his eyes wandered -all round the room before he finished--“I suppose she would wish it. -And you won’t meet again and--and you’ll tell her you are going home to -England?” - -“I’m afraid you must leave it to me what to say,” I replied, with a -smile. “I think you may trust my discretion. And you must do your part -afterwards carefully. Keep her out of the way when we play the comedy -of that arrest later, or she may cast herself for a part in it. She’s -plucky enough to avow herself, and that would mix things up a good deal -for us all, you know.” - -He frowned, threw up his hands in troubled perplexity and pushed his -chair back. - -“We had better get it over,” he exclaimed resignedly. “I’ll go and tell -her you are leaving.” - -He walked toward the door, paused, and turned as if to say something -more, then tossed up his hands again and went out of the room. - -I stared out of the window into the small, but carefully tended garden, -a prey to the very mixed thoughts which the good Father had succeeded -in rousing. - -Then the door opened and Volna came in alone. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -VOLNA IS A LITTLE REFRACTORY - - -She was dressed for her new character of the housekeeper’s niece, and -wore a white apron and a peasant girl’s picturesque head-dress. - -She closed the door behind her, dropped me a little curtsey and said -with the demurest of glances: “Did you please to send for me, sir?” -Then she burst out laughing and ran to me, both hands outstretched, as -though we had not met for a long time. “Now, wasn’t my instinct right?” - -I held her hands apart while I surveyed her costume. “Who was ever so -foolish as to question it?” - -“And isn’t the Father just the dearest old man in the world?” - -“The world is a big place and there are lots of old men in it,” I -answered. “But I knew you would win him round. He had no chance against -you.” - -She laughed gaily. “He lectured me, however.” - -“So he did me.” - -“And to think that if we had only known, he would have taken care of -those papers yesterday.” - -“And have saved us from all the horrors of last night.” - -She shot a glance at me. “And have freed you from the encumbrance of a -very troublesome sister twenty-four hours ago.” - -“Yes, indeed; if we had only known.” - -“You’re in a very agreeing mood.” - -“I am no longer a brother and must be polite.” - -“Do you call that politeness?” - -“Politeness or--policy.” - -“Well, whichever it is, it’s not a bit nice. Not a bit like--Bob.” - -“You forget. Bob is my own name, as well as my friend Garrett’s.” - -“How formal you are. What is the matter? You can’t be annoyed about -anything Father Ambrose has said to you? Nor about his having helped -us? What is it?” - -“I didn’t even know I was formal.” - -She turned away to the priest’s table and sat in his chair turning over -the books on the desk. I sat facing her as I had faced the priest. Once -she sighed, and once shrugged her shoulders, and twice glanced across -at me in perplexity. - -She was very pretty; very bewitching; more pretty and bewitching than -ever, in my eyes; but I was conscious of a new restraint--a something -like a barrier between us which had not been there before. I couldn’t -speak with the old freedom; in fact, I could think of nothing to say. - -“Father Ambrose tells me you are going away,” she said at length, her -fingers still busy with the books. - -“Yes, I am going away. I--I thought you’d like me just to say good-bye.” - -“Well, I should hope so, indeed. After what you’ve done for me.” - -“Never mind about that, please. I think I must be off.” - -I rose; but she paid no heed, just sitting on at the table, her face -averted and her fingers moving the books restlessly. I looked out of -the window, fidgetted a moment, and then turned again. - -“Yes, I think it’s time.” - -“Of course I won’t keep you,” she said then; very stiffly and without -looking at me. - -“Good-bye then.” - -She rose and held out her hand. “Good-bye.” She turned her face to me -and her lip quivered as she bit it. I recalled the priest’s words about -her betrothal; and clamped down my feelings as I took her hand and -pressed it. - -“I wish you God-speed with all my heart,” I said. - -She lowered her eyes again and her hand fell listlessly as I released -it and turned to the door. I had nearly reached it when I heard the -rustle of her cotton dress and turned to find her at my elbow. - -“But you’re not going to part like this?” - -I should have liked to part in a very different fashion could I have -had my way. But I could not. - -“Father Ambrose thinks that I had better go; and of course he is -right.” - -“But Bob and Peggy haven’t said good-bye. Oh, think of all we’ve gone -through together. Don’t go away angry with me like this.” - -“Angry! God forbid. Why you’re just the bravest little soul I ever -met in all my life. And some day I hope Sylvia and you will meet, -and--and----” I scarcely knew what I was saying and ended in partial -incoherence. - -“That’s more like you. I mean it’s more natural, except that you -generally know exactly what you want to say and say it. Are you going -to--to England?” - -“I don’t think I _have_ any definite plans. I----” - -Her laughter stopped me. She shook her forefinger with laughing -assumption of gravity. “If I had not ceased to be Peggy, I should -say you were hiding something from me. And you know how true Peggy’s -instincts are?” - -“What should I have to hide?” I asked with a smile. - -“What a mask of a smile,” she cried, with a lifting of the hands. -“Father Ambrose is a wonderful man; he has changed you completely in an -hour.” She turned back to the table and sat down again. “I suppose it -couldn’t be helped,” she added half to herself with a sigh. - -“What could not be helped?” - -She did not reply at once but looked up at me from under her long -lashes, while her feet tapped the floor quickly and irritably. “Of -course you are doing this with a purpose,” she said after the pause. -“Why? Oh, don’t pretend to misunderstand me. You know as well as I do -that you’re entirely changed. It’s so unjust. What have I done? You -know that after all you’ve done for me I wouldn’t do anything to anger -you for all the world.” - -“Don’t persist about my being angry.” - -“Well, offended, then, only it’s such a stupid word. Estranged, -alienated, changed; any word you like. Something has happened--something -has come between us. Do you treat Sylvia like this? It’s maddening.” - -“There is no change in me,” I protested. - -She laughed. “It’s in me, then, you mean. That’s almost cowardly--at -least it would be if any one but you said it.” Then with a start her -eyes opened wide; she rose and stared at me with parted lips; and a -vivid blush spread all over her face. “I believe I understand. You -think in your English way, that I have been too forward, unwomanly, -too,--oh!” and she covered her crimson cheeks with her white strenuous -fingers. - -“Don’t say that, please. Why the time we’ve been together has been the -brightest thing in the world to me.” - -She took her hands from her face and sat down again staring at the -table while the flush died out of her cheeks slowly. “I’ve gone all -over that sentence. That ‘has been’ is the clue. Now I see. It’s all -over and we are conventional again.” With an exaggerated affectation of -a society manner she rose very slowly, held out her hand and simpered: -“I hope you will have a pleasant journey, Mr. Anstruther. The weather -is still open enough to be excellent for travelling. Will you make my -compliments to your sister, and say I hope to see her some day?” - -I could not restrain a smile, but not a muscle of her face moved; she -kept up the vapid simper. “I will give your message,” I said, and tried -to take her hand; but she just let me touch her finger tips and then -bowed. - -“I am so pleased to have met you; and thank you _so_ much for all you -have done. I hope you’ll not take cold from the rain. Colds are _such_ -distressing afflictions.” Then another sudden change. With a stamp of -her foot she threw her head back and her rich blue eyes sparkled. “Is -that better?” - -I bowed. “I am sorry you so misunderstand.” - -“Misunderstand!” she repeated, quickly. “I don’t misunderstand that if -you were the kind of masculine formality you have been acting here this -morning you would never have done what you have for me in the last two -days. I am only a woman, of course--wait, you will wish to see Father -Ambrose again before you go. I’ll tell him;” and she crossed to the -door. - -“Good-bye,” I said, but she paid no heed and went out of the room. -It was not the kind of parting I had looked for, but I smothered my -regrets. It was better so. - -We could not go on being Bob and Peggy to one another of course; and -yet we had been too closely associated to drop back into mere formal -friendliness again without a wrench. She couldn’t see this in a moment; -but she would understand it later; and--well, the sooner I was away, -the better for my peace of mind. - -Then she came back bringing the priest with her. He was very plastic -clay in her white young hands. He wore a look of deep and almost -comical perplexity, and was obviously very ill at ease. - -“Now, Father, please. What have you said or done to Mr. Anstruther to -change him in this short time?” - -He glanced half appealingly at me; but I was as little at ease as he -was. “My dear child, I--I--er----” - -“You have lectured me already on the wisdom and necessity of complete -frankness, Father,” she interposed significantly. - -“It is very difficult to gather----” he got no farther, for she held up -a warning finger and shook it at him with a laugh and then placed it on -his lips. - -“There shall not be any difficulty,” she declared. “For two days Mr. -Anstruther has been just like a brother to me; treating me perfectly -frankly and saying as candidly as any brother whatever was in his -thoughts. We made a compact that he should do that, and he kept it -honestly. I left him in that mood when I first saw you. You then had a -long talk with him and I found him entirely changed; keeping something -from me; formal in manner; saying things he didn’t mean and meaning -others he didn’t say. Instead of a brother, he was an acquaintance. You -caused this by something you said. Now tell me, please.” - -The good man was helpless; so I went to the rescue. “It is time for me -to go. You can discuss this when I have left.” - -“Wait a moment. Two things I am certain of. You two have arranged to do -something that affects me and you won’t tell me; and you, Father, have -said something about me which has changed Mr. Anstruther. I won’t stand -that. I won’t let him go as if we were just how-d’ye-do--and--good-bye -acquaintances. He has saved me from prison, and I just can’t do it.” - -The embarrassment was becoming almost painful. “I should never think of -you as a mere acquaintance; but please let me go,” I said. - -“Yes. You may go. Good-bye--but don’t attempt to help me any more if -you _do_ go in that way. I will not let either of you help me, if you -mean to deceive me;” and with fingers that trembled she took off the -head-dress and laid aside her apron. “If you will not tell me, I will -go by myself and take my chance.” - -“My dear child,” protested the priest. - -“I will. I will. My mind is made up.” - -“You had better tell her,” I said to the priest then. - -She smiled, but through the promise of tears. “You know me, don’t you?” - -Father Ambrose then told her the scheme in regard to my arrest and we -both enlarged upon the absence of risk to me. She neither acquiesced -nor vetoed it. “That’s number one. What is number two? What have you -told Mr. Anstruther?” - -“You want to rule with a pretty strong iron rod, don’t you?” I said. -“But there is nothing to tell that need be told.” - -“Tell me,” she cried to Father Ambrose. “I will know, or----” - -“I only told him such facts about you as you had told me,” complied the -priest, taking refuge in generalities. - -She stood thinking, shooting quick inquiring glances at us in turn. - -“I ask you not to insist on anything more than that,” I urged. - -A gleam of understanding was in her eyes and a semi-mischievous smile -hovering about her lips as she returned: “Who asked that?” - -“Bob Garrett,” I declared promptly. - -The smile deepened. “What will the police do with him?” she asked -Father Ambrose. “Take him to Cracow?” - -“More probably to Warsaw,” was the reply; “but as we told you, his -friends will see he comes to no harm of any sort. You are quite sure of -that, are you not, Mr. Anstruther?” - -“I haven’t the faintest doubt of it;” and at this Volna looked quite -her happy self. - -“I may as well put these on again, then,” she said, and she slipped on -the apron and arranged the quaint head-dress. When she looked next at -me her face was almost preternaturally grave, except her expressionful -eyes. - -“You see now what a lot of time would have been saved if you had been -frank like Bob, and not tried to deceive me like Mr. Anstruther. I can -say good-bye, just as formally as you please, now I know why you are -going.” - -I took her hand and pressed it. “You’ll stay here and let this thing go -through all right?” - -“Yes. Father Ambrose wishes it. Good-bye, Mr. Anstruther, and -good-bye--Bob.” - -“Good-bye--Peggy. I may say that for the last time.” - -“Yes, for the last time, of course. I am Volna, after to-day.” She -looked into my eyes with an odd inscrutable expression in hers and -smiled. “You’ll be all right, or else I shouldn’t agree. But I know -you, and I am sure.” - -Then I hurried out of the room followed by the priest. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE ARREST - - -As it was desirable for the success of our plan that I should not be -seen when I fetched my horse, the priest pointed out a way across the -fields; and then gave me one of the greatest surprises of that time. - -“Considering what you are doing I must trust you with a dangerous -secret. You will give me your honour never to reveal it?” - -I gave him the pledge readily. - -“The owner of the shed where you left the horses is named Jacob Posen; -and he may have found them, and raise difficulties. In that case you -will say to him; ‘I am a peasant farmer, friend.’ He will probably -reply; ‘You seem in a hurry?’ and you will answer: ‘Immediate.’ His -next question if he asks it, will be: ‘Your name?’ In reply you will -raise your left hand with the forefinger extended, the tip to be level -with your eyes, and the back of the hand toward him, and say: ‘In the -eye of God.’ He will then offer to shake hands with you; but you will -refuse and look steadily at him. He will then be ready to help you.” He -illustrated the peculiar gesture. - -The inner significance of this was not difficult to see. “Peasant -farmer, friend,” clearly stood for “P. F. F.”--the Polish Freedom -Fraternity. The word “Immediate” was for one with a similar -initial--probably Independence; while the gesture was for recognition -purposes with a subtle reference to the righteousness of the cause and -the far-reaching extent of the movement. - -I was profoundly impressed by the incident. Here I was in a little -village of nowhere, far removed from the busy cities where revolution -has its birth and conspiracy is cradled; and yet the ramifications were -so widespread, the arrangements so perfected, and the secret means so -ready to hand, that Father Ambrose--as mild a mannered man as ever -wore a priest’s stole--was able in a few minutes to find one agent to -carry the dangerous papers to Cracow, and then another to help me in my -scheme. - -Until then I had never regarded the Fraternity as a serious national -force; my opinion being influenced by the fact that my friend, Count -Ladislas, was one of the leaders. - -I knew him for a man whose habit of mind led him to shirk -responsibility, to act on impulse, to be swayed by the last word, -and to veer this way and that when a decision had to be made. It was -impossible to think of him as leading a movement which called for -practical, earnest and sustained effort, for the resolute overcoming -of innumerable difficulties, the persistent, steady, battling against -odds, and the uninterrupted, unceasing educative work needed here. - -He was a man of dreams, ideas, theories, and principles; and here were -the results of steady action, hard work, stern realities and tireless -practice. - -I seemed to realize for the first time how real was the danger from -which Volna had to be saved and how grave the risk to which her friends -in Warsaw had so thoughtlessly exposed her. - -Even if our little scheme now were successful and I managed to lead -the police off her track, there was serious reason to fear that fresh -danger might await her in Warsaw; and at that moment a thought occurred -to me and, despite the seriousness of things, I laughed aloud. - -In our last interview she had shewn a dozen moods in as many sentences, -to my infinite bewilderment; but I thought now of something which had -escaped me at the moment. Her cheerfulness had returned when she knew I -was likely to be taken to Warsaw. - -Will any one blame me if in my egoism I interpreted this as a sign that -she hoped we should meet again there? We had parted for always and said -a last good-bye; but she had taken the parting lightly, because the -“always” would last only until we were both in Warsaw. That was why I -laughed. - -The laughter had a short life, however. It died suddenly as I -remembered how Father Ambrose had spoken of Volna’s betrothal. There -was something more than I knew of in that; Volna herself had spoken of -an entanglement; and I was worrying over the puzzle when I reached the -top of a sloping meadow and saw below me the shed I was seeking. - -There was no one about as I hurried down the hill. I was glad, as I had -no mind for indulgence in cabalistic signs, and all the rest of it. - -But I had been seen; and as I was unfastening the door a man came round -the end of the shed. - -“Well?” A very blunt but significant monosyllable. - -“Are you Jacob Posen?” He nodded. He was a big, heavy, black-bearded, -powerful man. - -“I have come for my horse.” - -“What do you mean? This is my barn. I have no horse of yours.” - -“I am a peasant farmer, friend.” - -He laughed, giving no sign that he understood; but he was only acting, -for he said with a sneer: “You seem in a hurry?” - -“Immediate.” - -His laugh changed to a scowl and he growled in a tone of almost savage -anger, “Your name?” I was almost surprised an oath did not follow. - -I made the sign and answered, “In the eye of God.” - -His face changed suddenly and affecting an air of good fellowship he -thrust out his hand. I refused it and just looked him in the face. - -His taciturn expression returned and he opened the door of the barn. - -“I saw you put them both in and wondered,” he said. “Shall I fetch the -saddle or will you?” - -“Better you; I don’t wish to be seen.” - -“Both?” - -“No, mine only. Hide the other and the horse.” - -He went off at once leaving me marvelling more than ever. He was soon -back and himself slipped on the saddle and bridle. Nothing more was -said until I was ready to mount. - -“You bought him in Bratinsk and this in Pulta. What shall I do with it?” - -“It mustn’t be found twenty miles west of here; and this revolver must -be hidden,” I added, as I gave him the weapon I had taken at Schirmskad. - -“I understand. God keep us all.” - -“God keep us all,” I repeated, assuming that to be another secret sign. -As I rode off, I saw him return to the coppice where the other saddle -was and carry it back to the barn. - -I rode leisurely in the direction of the village, on the look-out for -some sign of the police and running over in my mind the story I should -tell. - -Such of the villagers as were about gaped at me and two or three -children followed. As I was playing a part and did not know whose eyes -might be upon me, I thought it best to play thoroughly. - -“Which is the priest’s house?” I asked one of the women; and she -pointed it out. I beckoned to the children and throwing them some -kopecks bade them tell the Father I wished to speak to him. - -He came out and I raised my hat and said in a voice loud enough for -others to hear: “I am the Englishman who passed through the village -yesterday and spoke with you, Father. I have had all my money taken -from me and have thought it best to come to you.” - -“Come into the house,” he said gravely. As I dismounted and fastened my -horse to the railing, he drew a woman aside and whispered to her; then -led the way to the door. “I have sent for the police agents,” he told -me. “They have been some half hour in the village.” - -“I am quite ready;” and as we sat waiting I told him hurriedly what had -passed with Jacob Posen, and that I thought Volna’s horse should be -hidden. - -“Do you really need any money?” he asked. - -“No, I think not. I shall get back my letter of credit.” - -Soon we heard footsteps outside. - -“They are here. I almost regret this,” he said hurriedly. - -“I think it splendid. Now for the play.” Then I raised my voice, and -spoke excitedly. “The men took my letter of credit, and if you do not -help me what am I to do? Some one shall pay for this.” I got up and -held the door partly open. “If you can’t do it, you can’t of course; -but I daren’t stay here.” - -“You cannot go,” said the Father. “I have sent for the police.” - -“Not go, I’ll see about that,” I cried angrily, and rushed out to be -instantly seized by my friend of the Devil’s Staircase and a companion. - -“No, no. We’ll see about your going,” sneered the fellow. “You’re -right, Father Ambrose, this is the man we seek. Thank you for keeping -him here and sending for us.” - -“Ah, so it’s you again, eh?” I said. - -“Yes; and you won’t get away this time.” - -I turned on the priest viciously. “And this is your idea of -Christianity, eh? To get me inside your house in order to betray me to -the hounds. I wish you joy of your creed.” - -“Don’t insult the Father. He has only done his duty.” The irony of the -praise for the falsehood we had acted together, struck the good man and -I saw him wince. - -“I have done what I have done,” he murmured. - -“See if he’s armed,” ordered the agent. “He stole my revolver.” - -“Your comrades took it from me in their turn. You’ll find it at -Schirmskad. I’m not armed. I don’t need any weapons any longer.” - -He looked up with a scowl, and a start. “Schirmskad?” - -I laughed significantly. “On my way to the frontier. You’re too late, -my friend; and within the next few hours I am going to show you what a -fool you’ve made of yourself.” - -“Where’s the woman?” - -“Wire to Schirmskad and ask who escaped when the cottage of woodcutter -Krempel was burned down last night. You know how near that is to the -frontier.” I did not, but I bluffed him. - -“Did he ride up alone?” he asked Father Ambrose. - -“Yes, at the moment I sent for you.” - -“You’ll answer for this,” he cried angrily. - -“That’s exactly what I’ve ridden back for. Your fellows at that cottage -took my money and papers; so, as soon as I had done what I set out to -do, I rode back. On my way I came to this priest here; as he knows I am -an Englishman; and instead of helping me, he arranged for my arrest. -You Russian Poles are a nice friendly Christian people, the whole lot -of you.” - -“Where were you going?” - -“Why to Bratinsk, of course--where the rest of my things are and I am -well enough known to borrow money until I can get some from England.” - -“A likely story,” he sneered. - -“You needn’t believe it. Your sneers don’t affect me a kopeck. This -particular episode being closed I am going back to my hunting at -Bratinsk.” - -“You’ll find the episode, as you call it, isn’t closed. You’ll have to -answer for it and must come with me.” - -“I haven’t the least objection now.” - -He thanked Father Ambrose again and we left the house. They walked one -on each side of me, and one of the villagers led my horse. In this way -I was marched to the police quarters of the village--just a cottage, -pretty much like that of an ordinary county policeman at home. - -There he wanted to catechize me afresh about Volna; but I stopped him. -“I shall say nothing about that and nothing more about myself. I am -ready to go wherever you please to take me, and having no longer any -reason to resist, will do what you wish. You know who I am, because you -saw my papers at Bratinsk before any of this fuss occurred. Take me to -your superiors and I’ll convince them in half an hour that the sooner I -am at liberty again, the better for all concerned.” - -“I am in charge of this,” he cried, bristling with authority. “You have -aided the escape of a revolutionary and must answer for it.” - -“I am an Englishman. Take me to your superiors,” I said; and to that -phrase I stuck, repeating it doggedly to his every question, until I -had tired out his patience and worn his temper to shreds. - -I was then left in a room with a man to guard me while a carriage was -got ready; when I was handcuffed and bundled into it pretty roughly. I -knew the road of course and soon saw they were taking me to Solden. - -I was carried to the police quarters there and shut up in a cell; -still with a man to guard me. Meanwhile they communicated with the -police at Schirmskad; and after some time I was taken from the cell and -confronted with the chief of the men who had nearly captured me at the -woodcutter’s cottage. - -“I am glad to see you,” I told him. “You have my passport, papers, and -letter of credit. I demand their return.” - -“Where is your companion and who is she?” - -“Who is the chief here?” I asked. - -“Answer me, you dog,” he cried with an oath, raising his hand. - -“I am an Englishman with very powerful friends; no mere peasant to be -kicked and hounded by you. Lay a finger on me, if you dare.” The two -conferred together; my papers were taken out and examined; and a third -man called to the conference. - -“Where is your companion and who is she?” demanded the man again. - -“Take me to your superiors,” I said; and from that reply I would not be -moved. At last I was sent back to the cell with the guard to watch me -as before. - -I was getting on better than I had even hoped. My insistent repetition -of the fact that I was an Englishman had had its effect. - -The Warsaw agent who had seen me first at Bratinsk had no doubt -satisfied himself on the point; and from what I had seen in the recent -conference, he had made this clear to the others. - -My chief anxiety was about food. It was now late in the afternoon and -having had nothing since the breakfast at the priest’s house I was -egregiously hungry. I recalled my experience at Pulta station and began -to speculate what effect a gold coin would have upon my guard. He was a -heavy stupid-looking fellow; but the biggest fool in Russia knows the -difference between a gold piece and a kopeck. - -The coins in my pocket had not been taken from me and although I was -still handcuffed I was able to wriggle my hand into my pocket and get -some out. The man watched me sullenly. - -“I am hungry,” I said. - -“Prisoners mustn’t talk.” - -“I have had no food for hours. Wouldn’t this buy some?” and I held up a -couple of roubles. - -“Silence,” he growled, with a surly frown. - -I substituted a gold piece for the two silver ones. “Food is perhaps -dear in Solden.” - -He fidgetted uneasily, his eyes on the gold. I put the three coins -together. “The silver for the food, and gold for the waiter,” I said. - -He sighed regretfully. “Impossible,” he murmured. - -“Mayn’t you buy food for yourself? Have you had supper?” - -His eyes gleamed. A slow smile of cunning spread over his face. He -stretched out his hand. I put the two silver coins into it. “One pays -the waiter at the end of dinner.” - -He was disappointed, and stood glancing from the coins in the palm of -his hand to me and back from me to the coins. Then he decided to earn -the gold. - -He knocked on the door of the cell and a comrade came. They whispered -together; the coins jingled; and the comrade departed. - -In half an hour he returned with some food: a cold chicken, some bread -and tea. The cost was probably under a rouble and the comrade had thus -paid himself in advance. - -There was no knife; so I had to eat the fowl as best I could; pulling -the joints asunder and gnawing the flesh. But I was too hungry to -bother about that. When I had finished I gave the man the gold piece. - -“I must give him something,” he grumbled. - -“Give him what you like out of that,” I answered, getting a very black -look from him. - -After the food, sleep became insistent. I had not slept since Pulta, -and had done a good deal in the meantime. I was as tired as a hound -after a long day, and had scarcely settled myself on the bench against -the corner of the wall before I was off. - -Not for long, however. I dreamed that some huge monster animal was -suffocating me and woke to find it was my guard’s heavy coat sleeve -pressing against my face as he leaned across to get at the pocket where -my money was. - -“Helping yourself, are you?” - -He got up hurriedly and a couple of coins fell from his hand to the -floor. - -“I only wanted to see you were comfortable,” he mumbled. - -“You thought the money might make too big a lump for comfort, eh? Very -nice of you. Your officer counted it, so you can tell him how much -you’ve taken. It’ll be all right.” - -He swore--perhaps at the feebleness of the sarcasm; but he thrust the -money back and sat down in his chair again glowering at me. - -I settled myself in my corner once more and slept this time until -somebody shook me violently. - -It was my friend of the Devil’s Staircase; and he bade me get up at -once and go with him. - -I yawned. “Where to?” - -“To my superiors,” he answered with a grin; thinking it a joke no doubt -to throw my own words back at me. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -A TASTE OF PRISON LIFE - - -Outside in the corridor the man from Schirmskad was waiting, and the -two drove me to the railway station and hustled me into a railway -carriage. They would not say where I was being taken, but I did not -care much, and five minutes after I entered the train, I was fast -asleep. - -When I awoke it was daylight. A bleak, desolate, grey morning, for the -snow had come at last, and was falling heavily. I was cold and stiff -from the cramped position, and sore from the jolting of the train--one -never understands how a train can jolt until after an experience in -what they call a fast train in Russian Poland--and as I sat up, yawned, -and rubbed my eyes, every bone in my body seemed to ache. - -My guards were both asleep. Had I been minded I could have taken their -weapons and shot them both as they rolled in their corners, snoring -loudly enough to have drowned the sound of the shots. - -I roused them both, and with a great shew of politeness told them what -I could have done. They both swore at me. - -“It’s really very wrong of you to go to sleep in such a case,” I said -amiably. “You had no right to subject a prisoner to such a temptation. -I fear I shall be compelled to report you.” - -“You’re a cool hand,” growled the Schirmskad man. - -“Not nearly so cold as _you_ would soon have been if I had done it,” I -retorted, and the grimness of the joke seemed to appeal to them. “But -Englishmen don’t do that kind of thing.” - -“To hell with the English,” he said. - -“That’s not pretty, but it’s nothing to what you’ll feel like saying -before you are through with me. One of you took me for a spy, or a -conspirator, and the other for a thief or a murderer. It was brilliant.” - -“Who are you, then?” growled the Warsaw man. They were both sleepy and -ill-tempered, and thus very easy to bait. - -“If I had been either spy or murderer, I suppose even you can see that -I should have shot you just now instead of going on contentedly to -explain things.” The train ran through a station then, and I caught -sight of the name Tischnov. I knew the place to be some twenty miles -from Warsaw. I began to chuckle, and presently burst into a loud laugh. - -“What is it now?” - -“I am thinking of your promotion,” I grinned. “They tell me that the -man who makes the biggest mistakes gets promoted instantly for fear the -blunder should be known and police prestige suffer. I expect you’ll be -heads of departments by to-morrow, you two, with decorations.” - -“We’ve had enough of your insolence.” - -“You asked me why I smiled. Why, when your Minister of the Interior -hears from my dear old friend, General von Eckerstein--he used to -represent Germany at Petersburg, you know--how you’ve treated me, -you’ll get such a sweet message from him.” - -The Schirmskad man swore, but his companion looked serious. I continued -to chaff them with much enjoyment for ten miles; and the Warsaw agent -grew more and more uneasy at every word I dropped relative to my having -well-known friends. - -“What do you know about General von Eckerstein?” he asked at length. - -“That he doesn’t like his friends to wear this kind of ornament;” and I -held up my handcuffs. - -“If you’ll give me your word not to escape, I’ll take them off,” he -replied, very sheepishly. - -“Not for the world, now. I shall be able to tell the General how it -feels to be dragged through the streets of Warsaw manacled like a -felon.” - -The two whispered together for some minutes, and then the Warsaw man -said: “We’re not afraid of your escaping. I’ll take them off.” - -I let him do it, of course. “A bit uncomfortable about it all, eh? -It’s beginning to dawn on you at last that I’m not a dangerous -revolutionary?” I said, as I rubbed my chafed wrists. “You’re only at -the beginning of your lesson, though.” - -“I have done no more than my duty,” he muttered. - -“We shall see about that before the day’s over, my friend,” I answered -sharply. - -When we reached Warsaw I was driven to the police headquarters. I was -expected, and after a few minutes I was taken to a room where some half -dozen men were awaiting me, among them being the two who had brought me -to Warsaw. The chief was sitting at a heavily bepapered table. - -“Stand there,” he said, pointing to a spot opposite to him. - -Two things were evident. The chief was a man high in authority--the -deferential manner of the rest shewed this--and the proceedings -were stage-managed with a view to impress me with the solemnity and -seriousness of the occasion. I took my cue accordingly, and was as -nonchalant as I could be. “Why stand?” I asked. - -“You are a prisoner,” he rapped out, with a frown. - -“On what charge?” - -“Don’t question me. Your name?” - -I looked at him steadily and kept silent. The frown deepened and he -repeated “Your name; do you hear?” - -“Of course I hear you; but if I am a prisoner I decline to answer any -questions until I know the charge against me.” - -“Don’t trifle with me. Refuse to answer and you go to the cells.” - -“That as you please. Your agent there knows my name perfectly well and -that I am a British subject. I claim my rights as one.” - -The reply only served to increase his anger. The flesh about his nose -and mouth began to grow white as it will with some men in passion. -He was a bully, and probably hated the English like so many of his -countrymen. - -“Answer me, you----” The epithet was lost in the loud cough of a man -near him. - -“You have the only answer I shall give until I know the charge.” - -“Take him away,” he ordered, with a wave of the hand. - -“I demand to communicate with the British Consul,” I said, “and with my -friend, General von Eckerstein.” - -“Take him away,” he repeated; and I was led off and placed in a cell. -If he thought to frighten me, the effort had failed. He had put himself -in the wrong, and I knew that my turn would come. - -It was a filthy, foul-smelling place they put me in, and they kept me -in it all day without food or even water. - -In the evening I was taken again before the man, and the scene of the -morning was repeated in pretty much the same terms and with the same -result. But my back was up, and I vowed I’d rather starve than give in. - -I passed a miserable night, famished with hunger, parched with thirst, -and half stifled with the reeking foulness of the place. - -In the morning an official came to the cell to try a different method. -He was less of a ruffian than his superior, and sought to convince me -of the uselessness of contumacity. - -I let him talk without once replying to his questions until he was -in the act of leaving. “I am a British subject,” I said then, “and I -have demanded no more than my rights. I have been treated like a dog -and shut up in this filthy place to be starved into submission to that -ruffianly bully. Go through with it if you dare. I can keep my end up, -and be hanged to you all. But if I’m left to rot here, there’ll be -questions which somebody will find it difficult to answer. You can’t -murder Englishmen with impunity. You know that.” - -He shrugged his shoulders, hesitated whether to answer, then decided -not to and went away. - -A couple of hours later I was taken again to be examined, and the man -who had visited me was with the bully. - -“Is your name Robert Anstruther?” asked the latter. - -“You knew that before you sentenced me to twenty-four hours’ -starvation.” - -“Are you prepared now to explain your part in this business?” - -“What business? What do you charge me with?” - -His colleague bent and whispered to him; and a short but very heated -altercation followed, which resulted in the bully ordering the other -man out of the room. - -Then he turned to me. “You’ll have to answer me.” - -“We shall see about that,” I returned with a grin. - -“I shall gaol you till you do.” - -“Then we shall both be a good deal older when we meet again,” I -retorted. - -“You have a fancy to try a change of prisons?” - -“I demand to see the British Consul and to be allowed to communicate -with my friends.” - -“Your friends, now. Who are they?” he sneered. - -“One will do to start with. His Excellency General von Eckerstein of -the German Legation at Petersburg. I wish him to know that you have -tried to starve me to submit to your infernal bullying.” - -“Insolent English beast,” he roared, completely losing his head in his -fury. “Take the liar away.” - -“I shan’t always be a prisoner,” I cried, as the man seized me. “But I -shall remember that insult until I’ve made you swallow your words.” I -was nearly as furious as he; but I had no time to say more, for the men -took their cue from him and hustled me violently out of the room. - -They passed on word that I might be ill treated with impunity; and I -had a very rough and tumble time indeed while being carried to one of -the gaols. - -With the minor police and gaol officials in Russian Poland, the -ill-treatment of prisoners is a carefully studied art; and they amused -themselves congenially with me. Twenty times on that short journey I -had to put the greatest restraint on myself to resist the temptation to -do what they strove to goad me to do--to commit some act of violence -which would have given them the excuse they sought to half batter me to -death. - -As it was I was hustled, struck and kicked; my clothes were nearly -torn off my back, and every foul epithet which Russian and Polish -malice could think of was spat at me with official brutality and -contemptuousness. - -I kept my head, however. I was tough enough to bear a good deal of -ill-treatment; I had often taken much worse punishment in the boxing -ring, and I had played football in America; so I held my temper back -for the man who was the real cause of it all. - -They flung me at length into a cell and locked the door upon me with a -last gibe that the English were dirty cowards, and I the meanest skunk -of them all. - -I understood that day how men are made murderers. I brooded over my -wrongs and nursed my rage against the bully who was responsible for -this treatment, until if we had stood face to face I know I should have -found delight in dragging him down and choking the life out of him. A -fierce desire to fight him and punish him took possession of me; and -for an hour or two hunger, thirst, injustice, everything was forgotten -in that all but insane craving for revenge. - -But rage cannot last for ever and when some rough prison food--gruel, -black bread, and a pannikin of water--was thrust into my cell an hour -or two later, the sight of it re-roused my hunger and blanketed my -passion. So famished was I by that time that I had to clamp down the -desperate impulse to cram it into my mouth with the unbridled voracity -of a starving beast. - -It was excellent self-discipline to eat it slowly. But I succeeded. I -took it, just a mouthful at a time, with long intervals between, thus -spreading out the meal over perhaps two hours or more. And at the end -of the time I was myself once more, had regained my self-restraint, and -was able to think. - -What they meant to do with me, I could not see; but what I would do -was clear enough. I would conform to every rule of the prison life and -wait for the chance of communicating with my friend or with the British -Consul. Let that bully break down my resolve, I would not, if I had to -stay in the prison till I was grey. And when my time came, I would have -a reckoning with him, even if the immediate result was only to bring me -back to the prison with a real crime for the reason. - -On entering the gaol I had been searched, and my watch and money, -everything, indeed, taken from me. I could not, therefore, try the -bribery trick again, even if the chance had offered. So I made the -best of a very bad job, arranged my torn clothes in such fashion as I -could, rubbed the bruises where the brutes had kicked or struck me, and -got all the sleep that was possible. - -The attempt to starve me was abandoned, and later in the day another -meal, black bread and water this time, was served. I was left to myself -that day and the whole of the next, except when the food was brought, -or when I was ordered roughly to clean the cell, or when a warder in -the corridor would open the grill in the door and after grinning at me -would utter some vile epithet. They were a genial pleasant set of men. - -On the third day, however, a fresh course was attempted. A man I -had not seen before entered my cell, and after very little preface -hinted that if I would pay him, he would carry some communication to -my friends. Suspicious that it was a trick, I declined; and then he -urged me to make a full confession of all I knew and submit to the -authorities. - -“What do you call this but submitting?” I retorted. “I don’t see what -other course is left to me. But I have done nothing, and have no -confession to make therefore.” - -“By submission I mean answer the questions of Colonel Bremenhof.” - -“Is that the man who interrogated me?” - -“Yes. Will you not confess to----” - -“I have no confession to make,” I cut in. “But I’m glad to know his -name. I shan’t forget it.” - -He tried to work on my fears, then. This was not England, the times -were troubled, military laws prevailed, and suspects who would not -account for themselves might be treated very harshly. - -“I have had ample proof of that myself, thank you,” said I, drily; “and -as soon as I am free, I shall see that some others learn to spell the -word.” - -He gave me up then and left with a curt warning. “You will not be free -until you have submitted.” - -It began to look as though it was to be trial of staying power; and I -had all that day and half the next to ponder his warning. - -Then something happened. - -I had had my midday meal and was trying to sleep when I heard the -shuffling of steps and the murmur of voices in the corridor. - -There was a pause, the key was thrust into the lock, the door thrown -open and two warders entered followed by the bully and, of all people -in the world, the least expected--Volna. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -I GET A BIT OF MY OWN BACK - - -At the sight of the man who had used his official power to give me the -lie and then have me treated like a felon my rage flashed at once into -a flame. - -But for that, my astonishment at seeing Volna would have drawn some -sign of recognition before my instinctive caution could have prevented -it. As it was, however, my gaze fastened on Colonel Bremenhof. - -“It’s you, is it?” I said, and I jumped up and stepped toward him. - -He retreated, and the two warders interposed quickly and pushed me -back. But the incident had served a purpose. It prevented the bully’s -noticing Volna’s start of dismay on recognising me. - -“That’s right,” I sneered. “Keep your bulldogs about you. It’s not safe -to come near me without some one to take care of you.” - -His anger and chagrin were intense. I knew afterwards what he had hoped -to gain by bringing Volna to my cell; and the failure of the plan -galled him. - -“This is the fellow, Volna, who was found with your uncle----” he -began, when I broke in. - -“Have you communicated with my friend General von Eckerstein?” - -“Silence, prisoner,” he cried, angrily. “Now, Volna, I want you----” - -“Am I a show for all Warsaw to see? I have suffered your brutality----” - -“Silence, I say. Disobedient scoundrels get the lash here.” - -I sneered and shrugged my shoulders. “You miserable coward; a mere cur -in office, barking only when you think it safe.” - -This had the infuriating effect I wished. He lost control of himself, -and, pushing the two warders aside, he rushed forward with hand raised -to strike me. - -I let him come quite close, and then hit him full on his insolent -mouth, putting all my weight and strength behind the blow. He went down -like a ninepin, and so far as he was concerned, the interview was over. - -A pretty considerable row followed. The two warders threw themselves on -me and shouted lustily for help. Others rushed to the cell in a ferment -of excitement and clustered between me and the bully, much as though I -were a wild beast. He was carried off, and Volna, in a maze of distress -and consternation, was taken away at the same time. - -I was now considered to be a desperate and dangerous prisoner. -Handcuffs were placed on my wrists and irons on my legs, neither of the -operations being gently performed. - -But I did not care. I had got back a little of my own from the brute, -and they might do what they pleased with me now. What that would be, I -was soon to learn. - -I was huddled up on my pallet in the exceedingly uncomfortable position -which the irons permitted when the governor of the gaol and a couple of -other officials entered with some warders. - -He read me a short lecture upon the heinousness of my awful offence, -told me that men had been killed who had done less, and then announced -that my punishment would be the knout. Three hundred lashes to be -administered at intervals of a week, a hundred lashes each time. - -“I am an Englishman, and claim the right to communicate with the -British Consul, and also my friend, General von Eckerstein.” - -“You don’t dare to deny that you struck Colonel Bremenhof?” - -“My quarrel is personal with him. He sent me here in the first instance -without any cause and was going to strike me just now when I hit him.” - -“Enough,” was the stern reply. “You have admitted your infamous act. -The first portion of your punishment will be administered to-morrow;” -and with that he turned on his heel and left me to my own reflections. - -They were gloomy enough. I had once seen a man knouted, and had winced -as the lash tore the flesh from the poor devil’s back. I would rather -have been sentenced to be shot at once; and for a few mad moments I -indulged in wild thoughts of self-destruction or of attempting a fierce -attack on some one in the prison which would bring a capital sentence. - -Sanity returned presently, however, and after a time the extraordinary -circumstances of Volna’s visit began to claim my thoughts. - -What baffled me as much as anything was that Colonel Bremenhof had -addressed her by her Christian name. What could he be to her, or she -to him? He had evidently brought her to the prison to identify me; but -what could be his motive? Could she have fallen under suspicion? What -did he know, and how had he guessed that she and I had been together? -Had she been confronted with the police agent of the Devil’s Staircase -incident? Was she to be charged? That did not seem possible in view of -the fact that she was apparently free and he had spoken to her as to a -friend. - -I raked my wits over and over again in repeated attempts to answer -these questions, only to give up the puzzle as hopeless. - -No one came near me again all that afternoon and evening, and as the -hours passed, the thought of what was in store for me on the morrow -became more and more oppressive. And when, at length, I heard the -warders going their night rounds, I am free to confess I was very close -to despair. - -I dreaded the lash as fully as any poor devil who was ever sentenced to -it deservedly; and I found myself speculating, with a coward’s fear, -upon the gruesome ordeal. - -I could not sleep for the shuddering horror of the thing. In vain I -told myself that men had gone through it before, and that what they had -endured, I could probably endure. There was no consolation in that. The -one thought that did afford me a gleam of grim comfort was that if I -did get through it and was ever free, Colonel Bremenhof should taste -something of the horrors he had caused me to endure before I would call -my account with him square. - -There was a great deal of the brute in me in those lingering hours of -despair. - -I was still in this mood of self-torturing apprehension, trying vainly -to get to sleep and shake off the horrors of it when my cell door was -opened and two warders entered. By the lantern which one carried I saw -two other figures in the gloom beyond, and I jumped to the conclusion -that the time for my knouting had been put forward. - -“This is the prisoner.” I recognized the governor’s voice. - -The warder’s lantern flashed to my face, and out of the gloom came a -sonorous “Good God!” Then some one rushed forward and took my hands. -“My dear boy, what in the name of heaven and earth does all this mean?” - -It was my old friend, General von Eckerstein; and as I felt the grasp -of his hands I closed my eyes with a deep, deep sigh of intense -thankfulness. - -“There has been a bad mistake, that’s all,” I said, scarcely knowing -what I said or did for the moment. The sense of relief was so intense -as to be almost overpowering. I found myself laughing fatuously. - -“This is your friend, General?” asked the governor. - -“Why, of course it is. It’s the most extraordinary thing in the world. -Why on earth didn’t you send for me before?” - -“I tried to, but--I had better explain everything.” - -“He has proved himself a very dangerous and desperate man, General,” -said the governor. “Will you answer for him?” - -“Answer for him? Yes; with my life, man. Can you let me see him -privately? I’m lost in amazement.” - -“Take off his irons,” ordered the governor. - -“Fettered, too. Heavens! what would your father have said?” - -The irons were taken off and I was allowed to go with the General to -one of the governor’s rooms where we were left alone. This gave me time -to regain my self-control. - -“Now perhaps you’ll tell me all about it,” said my friend. - -“Two things first. Give me a cigar, and tell me how you have come from -Petersburg just in the nick of time.” - -“From Petersburg? I have not come from Petersburg; I am in Warsaw for a -time. But what do you mean? You knew that when you sent me this.” - -He handed me a letter as follows: - - “DEAR OLD FRIEND,-- - - “Come to me at once to the Kreuzstadt fortress. I am a prisoner. For - God’s sake. - - “ROBERT ANSTRUTHER.” - - “I cannot write this myself, but do not fail me.” - -His shrewd eyes were fixed upon me as I looked up. “Umph! Who’s the -woman?” he asked. I hesitated and smiled as I laid the letter down, -and, to fill the pause, lighted my cigar. “Don’t,” he jerked. I -started; for the warning came so pat on my thoughts of the best tale to -make. - -I looked across and met his keen, penetrating gaze. - -“Young Bob Anstruther, if you try and lie to me I’ll throw up the whole -thing. Trust me with the truth, and I’ll do for you what your father’s -friend should.” - -“The secret is not mine and----” - -“Devil take the boy,” he burst in vehemently. “Don’t I love John -Anstruther’s son like my own child, or do you think an old diplomat -gabs and blabs like a washerwoman? Confound you, do you want to make me -give you my word of honour, you young idiot?” - -I hesitated no longer, but told him the whole story from the meeting -with Volna at Bratinsk railway station down to that moment, omitting -only the part which referred to Father Ambrose and the Fraternity -signals. - -“The portion I don’t tell you doesn’t affect my case, General; and I am -under my pledged word not to reveal it.” - -“You’ve told me about enough,” he retorted grimly; and for a while we -sat and smoked and looked at one another in silence. - -Presently, with a short laugh, he took his cigar from his lips. “You’re -a hot-headed young fool, Bob, just that and nothing more. But”--he -paused, brushed back his grey hair, sighed, and then smiled--“I suppose -at your age I should have done pretty much the same, and I’m cock-sure -your father would.” - -“I’ll take my gruelling, sir, if it comes to it.” - -“Don’t talk nonsense, boy. Do you think I’ll let ’em touch you? But we -must move very warily. Will you apologize to Colonel Bremenhof?” - -“I’ll see him hanged first,” I cried. - -He grinned and nodded. “You mean to make it as stiff for me as you can. -That’s always the way with young folk.” - -“Would you have me apologize to him?” - -His face stiffened and his eyelids came together till they were mere -slits through which his pupils gleamed. “I’m glad you hit him; although -that blow is just the toughest nut to crack. But we must get to work. -Thank Heaven, he put himself in the wrong as usual.” - -He rang the bell and sent for the governor. His manner became suddenly -as stern as with me it had been kind. - -“There has been a very serious miscarriage of justice here, Major -Pruladoff. This is Mr. Robert Anstruther, the son of a man who was the -intimate friend of half the Berlin Court and trusted by the Emperor. -His imprisonment is nothing short of an outrage, and what makes it -really serious is that his demand, made as his right, to see the -British Consul and to communicate with me, was refused.” - -“I know nothing of that, of course, General. He was brought here on the -order of Colonel Bremenhof.” - -“Oblige me by calling him up on the telephone, and let me speak with -him.” - -Some minutes passed before the governor announced that the Colonel was -waiting. My old friend went to the instrument. - -“Is that Colonel Bremenhof? This is General von Eckerstein. I wish to -know why, when the young Englishman, Robert Anstruther, was brought -before you, you refused to allow him to communicate with the British -Consul and with me, his friend? What’s that? That does not answer my -question. By what right did you refuse? What’s that? I can’t hear you. -Oh, your mouth is swollen and you can only speak with difficulty?” - -This was for my benefit, I knew, and I would have smiled if Major -Pruladoff hadn’t been frowning grimly at me. - -“You can give me a direct answer all the same,” continued the General -at the instrument. There was a pause, filled by the insistent buzz -of the voice replying. “That is no reason. You know that, sir. What? -Well, you can’t treat Englishmen like that. It will be my countryman’s -turn next. But you had his papers. Very well, then, I am going now to -the governor. Yes, of course I will, as for my own countryman, as my -own son, in fact. Nonsense. What your men thought doesn’t touch the -point of your refusal. You know that. Well, if you don’t think the -thing had better be hushed up, there’s an end of it. Mr. Anstruther -will communicate with the Consul here and wire to the Ambassador at -Petersburg. What do you mean? Do you dare to try and make me a party -to your illegal act? Then you shouldn’t suggest it. Certainly. If you -don’t send down an order for his release I shall not exert any further -influence to restrain Mr. Anstruther from using his unquestionable -rights, and shall myself wire to the Minister of the Interior. An -hour. No, sir, not five minutes. At once!” and the General hung up the -receiver. - -The telephone bell rang furiously. - -“Just write a short note to Mr. Hardy, the Consul, Robert, and I’ll -take it to him myself. He will at once communicate with Petersburg and -in the meantime I’ll wire to the Minister. You’ll permit the letter to -be written, Major?” - -The bell was going all the time. - -“I am in a difficult position, General,” replied the governor. “That -is probably Colonel Bremenhof. Won’t you answer?” - -“Certainly not. You’d better ask him if he persists in his refusal; and -you may add it doesn’t matter, because I shall see Mr. Hardy.” - -“The Colonel wishes to speak to you again, General,” said the Major -from the instrument. - -“I have no more time to waste over the telephone;” and my friend put on -his overcoat. “You must go back to your cell, Robert; but Mr. Hardy is -a prompt man, and before morning we shall have word of some kind from -Petersburg. Good-night, boy;” and as he shook my hand he winked. - -“General von Eckerstein is going, Colonel,” said the governor through -the telephone. “The Colonel wishes to know where you are going, -General.” - -“Tell him to mind to his own business and I’ll mind mine,” was the -angry reply, and it was repeated over the wire. - -The General walked to the door and opened it. - -“The Colonel urgently begs you to speak with him, General.” - -“Am I to wait for that letter to be written or not, sir?” His face -might have been a stone mask in its sternness. - -“Please wait a moment, General. As a personal favour to me. I really -don’t know what to do.” - -“I have no more time to waste, I say. I demand a reply now.” - -“Mr. Anstruther, will you ask the General? It may be of the highest -moment to you.” - -A very different sort of governor this from the one who had lectured me -so sternly in my cell, and then glibly sentenced me to the knout. - -“No. I have been treated too infamously. I prefer to put the matter in -the hands of the British authorities,” I answered. “All Europe shall -know how foreigners are treated in Warsaw.” - -A glance from the General approved my reply. - -“You can write to your Consul, then.” We both understood that this was -merely intended to gain delay, and we wasted some time in pretended -difficulty about phrasing the letter, while a conversation continued -over the wire which clearly showed the man at the other end was in -trouble. - -“That’s enough, Bob,” said the General presently. “You can tell him all -when he comes.” - -“Thank Heaven,” breathed the governor with a sigh of relief as the -receiver was hung up again. “One moment, General. The Colonel is -sending an order for Mr. Anstruther’s release upon your giving me your -assurance to be responsible for him.” - -“Just in time,” exclaimed my old friend, curtly and ungraciously, as he -tore up the paper, on which, by-the-bye, I had not written a line. “And -about that infernal knouting?” - -“The affair is now out of my hands;” and the governor gave another sigh -of relief. - -Half an hour later the order arrived, and we left the prison together. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -“DO YOU LOVE VOLNA DRAKONA?” - - -The next day I did nothing except fit myself out with some new clothes, -and speculate about my future course. - -I could not decide anything until I saw the General; and before I rose -he had gone out and had left word for me to wait in the house for him. - -After the harrassing uncertainty of my spell in prison, the scene with -Bremenhof on the previous day, and the disturbing ordeal of the crisis -it had produced, the mere rest and sense of security were indescribably -welcome. - -I had plenty to think about, of course, but it was more like -floundering speculation than consecutive thought. How Volna had -returned to Warsaw? What was behind her visit to the prison? What the -connection was between her and Colonel Bremenhof? What his motive -could be in bringing her to the prison? Whether she had fallen under -suspicion? How was I to set about ascertaining the truth? How to find -means of seeing her again? With no facts to guide me, I could not -answer the puzzling questions which suggested themselves thus readily. - -“I have settled your matter,” said the General when we were closeted -together in the evening. “Here are your papers, passport, and letter -of credit; and I have succeeded in making Colonel Bremenhof understand -that the affair with him had better be regarded as a personal quarrel. -I have pledged my word for you--that you are no more a revolutionary -than I am; that in anything you may have done, you were just a tool in -others’ hands.” - -“That’s rather rough on the ‘others,’” I protested. - -“There will be an opportunity given to you, the day after to-morrow, to -say all you know about the partner of your flight from Bratinsk.” - -“It will be devilish awkward,” I murmured. - -“Better than three hundred lashes, isn’t it?” he returned drily. “But -you don’t see the point. The day after to-morrow.” - -“One day is just as awkward as another.” - -“You’re not as sharp as your father, Bob.” - -“Sons never are,” I agreed, with a grin. - -“He’d have known what to do with a day and a half’s grace, and a -passport put back in his hands.” - -“Oh! You mean I should bolt?” - -“Are you going to make an egregious young ass of yourself again?” - -“It looks like it to you, no doubt,” I said, a little sheepishly. - -“Umph. There’s a train west at midnight.” - -There was a long pause. “Do you think my father would have bolted?” I -asked. - -He pursed his lips and frowned. “Is she so much to you?” - -“She is the one woman in the world to me.” - -He appeared to expect the answer and yet to regret it. “Then, of -course, you’ll stay. You see what it means?” - -“I don’t care what it means.” - -“I’ve got you out of this mess, but if you give Bremenhof another -chance against you, you’ll have to shift for yourself. I shall be -powerless to help you. I can’t tell you official secrets, but I may -warn you that we are face to face with events the results of which no -man can foresee. It may spell revolution and bloodshed; and to be even -a suspect then will be full of hazard and peril.” - -“The more reason for me to stop.” - -“Bremenhof has already great power, and if a crisis comes, he will have -a free hand. He hates you,--not only for what you have done to him, but -for another reason. Volna Drakona is betrothed to him.” - -“To that brutal bully? I can’t believe it.” - -“I know what I say. If he gets half a chance at you, you’ll feel his -hand. Take my advice and go.” He was very earnest. - -“Not for fifty infernal Bremenhofs,” I cried passionately. - -He flung the end of his cigar away and rose. “That’s your last word? It -may prove a serious mistake for the girl’s sake.” - -“My last word--absolutely.” - -A half-quizzical smile relieved the earnestness of his look for a -moment. “I believe you’ll make an awful mess of things, Bob; but it’s -glorious to be young. If I can help you, I will; but----” a shrug of -the shoulders and a toss of the hands finished the sentence, as he -turned away to his desk. - -I bade him good-night a few minutes later and thanked him again for his -help. - -“Sleep over it all; perhaps it will look different in the morning and -you may be able to see how your staying can help the girl. I can’t.” -Then with the same kindly, half-quizzical smile he added: “But then I’m -only a thin-blooded old cynic and you’re a pulseful young fellow in -love. A tremendous difference, Bob. Eh? Tremendous.” - -Sleep over it I did not, at least for some hours; but worry over it -I did certainly, tossing and turning restlessly until near the dawn; -striving to understand this new complication of Volna’s betrothal to -Bremenhof. - -If he knew or suspected that I had helped her at Bratinsk, I could -understand his treatment of me. A beast by nature and a bully by -official opportunity, if his jealousy had been roused it was quite -likely to render him the brute he had shewn himself to me. It would -explain his having brought her to my cell. He had probably wished to -confirm or dissipate his suspicion that Volna had been my companion in -the flight. Yet he could have done that in a moment by confronting her -with either of the police agents. Why had he not done that? - -Puzzling over this question I stumbled on what might possibly be the -key. He might wish for private reasons to convince himself and yet be -unwilling to do this officially. If the police agents recognised her, -he might be unable to shield her from the consequences of her act. - -This gave me another idea. If he was afraid to have Volna publicly and -officially identified, I saw how to bluff him. I could demand to have -my examination a strictly official one; and so outplay him. - -His object was now to frighten me away from Warsaw by threatening to -have me examined as to my part; but if I could convince him that I -meant that examination to end in the public identification of Volna, he -would be as loath to hold it as I was to face it. - -But I must first satisfy myself of the facts behind this betrothal. I -recalled her reference to an entanglement; but I laughed at the notion -that she cared for him. Yet how could I get at the truth? - -This question was still unsettled when I rose the next morning; and -then Fortune did me a good turn and put the answer in my reach. - -The General looked a little troubled when he met me. “I have had a -telephone message about you, Bob. From Count Ladislas Tuleski.” - -I beamed. He was the very man to tell me all I wished to know. “He’s -one of my best friends, General. He saved my life a couple of years ago -in the Alps at the risk of his own. It’s a stroke of luck if he’s in -the city.” - -“There are two kinds of luck, so that may be true. He had heard you -were here and wants to see you.” - -“Not half so badly as I want to see him.” - -“You know he is one of the Fraternity leaders?” - -“He’s the gentlest soul in the world and wouldn’t hurt a fly.” - -“If you go to his house under the circumstances, it will be looked upon -as suspicious; to-day of all days in the year. I warn you.” - -“Why to-day?” - -“I forgot you had been in prison for nearly a week and don’t know the -news. Every eye in Russia to-day is waiting on events in Petersburg. -The strikers are going to the Winter Palace to petition the Czar, and -if bloodshed follows, as seems inevitable, it may spread over the whole -Empire.” - -“What has that to do with my seeing my friend?” - -“You are playing with words, boy,” he answered sternly. “He is a leader -of this movement; you are half suspect now; and if the trouble we fear -comes, you will give Bremenhof the chance he seeks against you.” - -“I am not afraid of Colonel Bremenhof. I have some questions to ask -Ladislas that cannot wait.” - -“I can only warn you, of course, but if you were my son, I declare to -God I’d put you under lock and key to stop this madness,” he burst out -almost fiercely. - -His vehemence seemed to me quite unwarranted and all out of -perspective. “I shall come to no harm, sir.” - -“You don’t see what you are doing, boy. It is madness--nothing short of -it. Remember my warning when the trouble comes, as it certainly will,” -and he turned away. - -“I am sorry to anger you, sir; but I fear I haven’t made you understand -all that this means to me. I value your friendship and, believe me, -I would take your advice now if I could. But all I care about in the -world is concerned in this, and I must find out the truth.” - -He turned, paused, appeared to hesitate, and then shook his head. “No, -I will be no party to foolishness of this kind. I must not. You are -taking a risk you don’t or won’t understand;” and he left me. - -I knew that real solicitude for me was at the bottom of my old friend’s -anger and I was genuinely sorry for the misunderstanding which had -arisen; but I could not listen to his counsel. Find out the truth about -Volna’s betrothal I must and would; and short of going to Volna herself -for it--an obviously impossible course--to see Ladislas was the only -thing to do. - -As I hastened to his house I perceived one thing, however. I could no -longer remain under the General’s roof. That might compromise him: and -I resolved to write him from Ladislas’ house that I should not return. - -I found my friend in a condition of excitement unusual even with -him. He was always impulsive and a slave to the mood of the moment, -and I had long ceased to be surprised by his neurotic impetuosity and -feverish unrest. It was this very self-regardless impetuosity, indeed, -which had led him to offer his life for mine when he had dashed to my -rescue in the mountaineering incident which had bound us together in -bonds of close and affectionate friendship. - -“I had no idea you were in Warsaw, Ladislas,” I said, as I gripped his -hand, “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.” - -He held my hand and wheeled me round to the light as he stared into my -eyes. “Let me look at you. Do you come as a friend?” - -I should have smiled, but for his careworn, harrassed, eager expression -as he put the strange question. “I hope I shall never come to you as -anything but a friend.” - -His black eyes shone for the second he continued to stare at me. Then -he dropped my hand, and exclaimed. “My God, I hope so. My God, I hope -so; but there are things which turn even friends into enemies;” and -he sighed as he thrust his fingers through his hair--he had the head -of a poet or musician and wore his fair hair quite long--and began to -pace up and down the room. It was difficult for him to keep still at -any time; and in moments of unusual excitement he was as volatile as -quicksilver. - -“It will have to be something serious to turn us into enemies, -Ladislas,” I replied. “But tell me what it is you think might do it. I -shan’t shirk a test, I promise you.” - -“Ah, you know there is something, then, Robert,” he cried, wheeling -round abruptly and with quite a suggestion of fierceness. He was the -only intimate I had who refused to call me Bob. He considered it -undignified, he had once said. - -“I only know that you sent for me, my dear fellow, and I can see for -myself that you are upset. Tell me.” - -He started on his walk again and in the pause I lighted a cigar. Five -or six times he crossed and recrossed the room, his hands in his hair, -in his pockets, and tugging at the lapels of his coat in turn. Then he -came and stood over me and fixed his great eyes on mine. - -“Do you love Volna Drakona? Answer me; on your solemn word of honour, -for the love of God.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -FOR FRIENDSHIP’S SAKE - - -My friend’s question came like a clap of thunder in the clear blue of a -summer sky, so absolutely startling was its surprise. - -In the second’s pause before I replied, many of the complicating -possibilities involved in it flashed upon me as his burning almost -passionate gaze was bent upon me. - -I pushed my chair back, rose and gripped his hand. “We must talk this -over, Ladislas, as friends.” - -“Answer me. Answer me,” he cried, trying to release his hand. “I must -know, before we talk of friendship.” - -“I will answer you. I give you my honour you shall have nothing but the -truth from me; but I must first know all that lies behind the question -and all that depends upon it. Come, man, speak out. Don’t try to drag -your hand away. We are men as well as dear friends; and whatever has to -be said or done, must not and shall not break our friendship.” I placed -my other hand on his shoulder. “Can’t you agree to this?” - -“Not if you have come between me and her.” - -“You are unbalanced in your excitement, or you would never say that to -me. Understand what I say. Nothing--mark, nothing shall ever make me -other than your friend.” - -I felt him trembling under my hand; and again he tried to free himself. - -“No, Ladislas; I do not let you go until you agree in that. You saved -my life once. Do you think I forget? I told you then that if the day -ever came for me to pay the debt, I should be glad. Now, what is this -girl to you?” - -“More than my life. My God, much more. More than even my honour, I -believe, God help me.” - -I steadied myself and spoke firmly. “What is it you ask of me?” - -His large expressive eyes lighted with eagerness. “Can you do this for -me? Can you give her to me?” - -I clenched my hands until the nails dug into the palms with the -intensity of my effort for composure. It was the crisis of my life. - -“My God, you cannot? You will not? And you pledged your oath. I saved -your life; and you are false to your word.” He said this rapidly, -vehemently, fiercely. Then with a sudden change he flung himself into -a chair and covered his face with his hands, crying: “God, God, what a -coward I am!” - -I resumed my seat and as I faced the sacrifice that was now demanded of -me, the old scene flashed vividly into my thoughts. - -On a treacherous slope of crumbling rubble not thirty feet from the -edge of an Alpine abyss, dropping a thousand feet sheer to the rocks -below, a young fellow lay on his back, sweat-stained and staring, heels -and hands dug desperately into the yielding surface as he measured the -inches and reckoned the moments between him and the death yawning just -below him. Slip, slip, slip, an inch or two at a time, he slid. Clutch -as he would with his bleeding fingers and strain as he did, he could -not prevent himself from being carried down, down, down with slow but -heart-sickening certainty. - -Death seemed inevitable; and as it is better to die quickly than to -linger with nerve-racking hopelessness, he had made up his mind to let -himself go and get it over, when a cheery call came from above, and the -light of hope was kindled once again in his beating heart. - -At the hazard of his life another man launched himself on that death -slide and, with a courage equalled only by his mountaineering skill, -carried a rope to his friend and saved his life just as his feet -reached the very brink of the abyss. - -I was the clumsy fool who had stupidly jeopardized my life and Ladislas -the friend who offered his to save me. - -And now Volna was to be the price! He had called for it: had thrown in -my teeth the pledge I had given; and had chided me for my unreadiness -to redeem it. This the friend whom I had always deemed the type of -honour and chivalry! Bargaining for the body of the woman he loved! - -In the first bitter moment my soul rose in passionate rebellion -against the sacrifice. Nothing in all my life had ever moved me so -deeply. To make myself a party to the bargain was to do dishonour to -Volna herself. What right had we to take this thing into our hands and -settle her life for her? It was for her, not for us, to make a decision -so vital to her happiness. - -Such a price as this had never been in contemplation. He knew this as -well as I. And at that point my memory played me a curious trick. My -thoughts flashed back to the moment of cold despair when death lay -gaping just below me on that mountain slide; to the dazzling change to -hope at the sound of Ladislas’ cheery call of encouragement. I saw him -again working his way toward me, death the certain penalty of a single -unskilful step; and once again the warm glow of gratitude for the -dauntless courage and devotion which had prompted my pledge then, came -back in all its force now. - -It ended the struggle. I would pay the price, let the cost be what it -might. - -I sighed heavily and turned to find him leaning forward watching me -intently and waiting, as though he divined the struggle that was -rending me. - -I smiled. “I won’t pretend that it hasn’t cost me a struggle, Ladislas; -but it’s over: and we can still be friends.” - -“How strong you are!” he exclaimed. - -“You wouldn’t think there was much strength in me if you knew the -bitter things I was thinking just now of you.” - -“You love her, then?” - -“I can’t help that--but I can trust myself for the rest. Would to -Heaven I had known before this had happened at Bratinsk! So little did -I suspect, I came to-day to ask you the meaning of her betrothal to -Colonel Bremenhof.” - -“It is an awful mess!” he exclaimed, and began pacing the room again. -“Count Peter arranged that. It was a blind to keep the Drakonas from -being suspected. Volna consented for her mother’s sake; but she was -candid, telling the man she did not care for him. She is as true as a -crystal. Her sister and brother--do you know them? No?--they fed him -with lies and blinded him; all at the Count’s instigation.” - -“Well?” - -“Bremenhof is a devil for cunning. He was not deceived; and he saw -at once that his hold over Volna was her fear for her mother. So he -wormed and moled and got a case against the mother; and now he swears -that if the marriage does not take place at once--to-day or at latest -to-morrow--he will have the mother arrested, and Volna, too.” - -“You know of my affair with him?” - -“Volna told me you struck him. He took her there to satisfy himself -privately that she had been at Bratinsk; and have that to hold over -her.” - -“Why have you let her stay at Warsaw?” - -“Count Peter was bringing her to Cracow to be married to me.” - -“Married to you! I don’t understand. Were you secretly betrothed?” - -“No, no. She had no thought of it, until Count Peter told her at -Bratinsk. But she knows how I love her; and we should have won her to -consent.” - -I remembered her statement to me at Bratinsk; that she had meant to -escape and return to Warsaw. But I kept this to myself. - -“And now?” - -“She is changed. It is you who have changed her. She can scarcely be -kept from breaking with Bremenhof. I don’t know what to do. My God, I -don’t know what to do.” - -“It’s plain enough. Take her and her mother away from Warsaw.” - -“How can I go, man? In Heaven’s name, how can I go? We are on the eve -of the most glorious crisis in our country’s history; and we leaders -dare not leave our posts.” - -“Send them away then in some one else’s care.” - -“Why? This city is the safest place in all the Empire for them. -To-day the great demonstration at Petersburg will show the Czar and -those about him and all the world that the people’s just demands can -no longer be resisted. The power of these tyrants will be shattered -against the greater might of the people’s will. You know my dreams of -old. They are coming true. We are on the eve of the greatest revolution -the world has ever seen: greatest in purpose, widest in area, most -beneficial in results--and what is greatest of all--to be achieved -without the shedding of a drop of blood.” - -“A bloodless revolution will be a new thing in history, Ladislas, -especially under Russian methods.” - -“You do not understand and so you doubt. But we know. The army is with -us almost to a man. They are of the people, blood of blood and bone -of bone in close-knit kinship; and when the hour strikes, the people -will rise in every city, town, and hamlet, rise as one man; and at that -rising the musket of every soldier will be grounded and not a sword -will leave its scabbard. Peace is our watch-word; peace our method; -peace and brotherhood our end.” - -“It is not only Polish independence then?” - -“Poland will be free. Poland will lift her head again, a nation among -the nations: but all Russia will be free in the gigantic upheaval.” - -His eyes gleamed with excitement as he strode up and down flinging his -arms about; his enthusiasm fired by his own rhapsody. He was very much -the dreamer; and he gave the reins to his dream with voluble energy. - -“Have you any practical men among you?” I asked, when at length he -paused. - -“We are all practical. My dear friend, you do not know us.” - -“True; but suppose you are wrong and that in some places the troops -stand by the Government, what will you do?” - -“Should we legislate for the impossible?” and he went on with a hundred -and fifty unconvincing and inconsequent reasons why nothing of the -kind could occur. “We are offering liberty--liberty, the grandest -gift on God’s green earth--not only to the people, but to the soldiers -themselves. They are not fools, or blind, or idiots to refuse it.” - -“But your troops here are not Poles, but Russians hating the Poles; and -the disposition of the regiments all over the Empire is on the same -principle. Do you tell me that national and tribal hatreds are going -to be smothered just because a few good fellows like you hold up your -hands and cry ‘Liberty’? To put it in a nutshell, if you believe this, -why are you afraid of what Bremenhof can do in regard to Volna?” - -To my surprise and concern he collapsed entirely. He threw himself -into a chair and pressed his hand to his face. “Don’t, don’t,” he -cried. “You give life and form to the one deadly fear that chills me -when I can’t suppress it; that haunts me at night like a spectre, and -paralyzes me with the agony of its hideous possibilities. I dare not -think of it, my friend; I dare not. God, God, I dare not.” - -I said no more. He was curious material for revolutionary work; but if -there were many like him, the Fraternity was a much less formidable -body than I had deemed, despite the evidence I had had of its -widespread organization. - -Presently he roused himself, stood up and apparently with only the -slightest effort shook off his depression. - -“I didn’t mean to inflict this on you,” he said, with a smile, -charming but almost pathetically weary. - -My patience was nearly exhausted, however. “What are you going to do to -save her?” I asked bluntly. - -He shook back his long hair, and smiled. “To-morrow there will be no -more thought or talk of danger.” - -Just then he was called out, and when he returned a few minutes later, -his face was grey and drawn and haggard with anxiety. - -“You must take her away from Warsaw,” he said. - -“I? Ladislas! What do you mean?” - -He held up a paper in his trembling hand. “News from Petersburg. The -soldiers are drawn up in thousands all over the city there. Guns are -posted in all directions; God knows what is going to happen. If there -is bloodshed there, hell will break loose here. You alone can save her.” - -“But, Ladislas, you forget. For me to do anything now----” - -He caught both my hands in his agitation. “You’ll do this, Robert? For -our old friendship’s sake? For her sake? If she stays here, God alone -knows what may happen. You must do it. You must. You must.” He was -almost hysterical. - -“But after what I have told you about her and you have implied to me, -my position----” - -“What is all that compared to her safety? Do you think I would not -trust you? Come to the house with me at once--this instant. Would you -leave her in Bremenhof’s power?” - -“No, no, I cannot go with you. You ask too much. For her sake, no less -than mine, you must find some other means,” I protested. - -“There is no other way,” he cried, impetuously and vehemently. “She -shall know the truth. I will tell her that you renounce--that--you know -what I mean. For God’s sake, don’t hesitate or it may be too late. At -any cost she must be saved; and her family can do nothing. She shall -know that you are acting for me. I will explain everything. It is no -time for mere scruples or personal feeling. If I trust you, surely you -can trust yourself.” - -I was dead set against the plan: every impulse and instinct protesting, -except the desire to help Volna. But that she would be in grievous -danger, should there be a rising in the city, was a fact nothing could -explain away; and that Ladislas was about the last man in the world -to be able to save her in such a crisis appeared no less certain. If -anything was to be done, some one capable of taking a practical view -of things must do it; and her friends appeared to be a set of most -unpractical theorists. - -But if I was to do anything, it must be made absolutely plain to Volna -that I was acting for Ladislas--to save her for him. Surely a most -awkward situation to explain. But he continued to urge me and declared -he would leave no doubt in her mind; and at length I yielded, and we -started for the Drakonas’ house. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -TURNING THE SCREW - - -Embarrassing as my position must have been in any case, it was made -much worse by the manner of my reception at the Drakonas’. - -Volna’s half-sister, Katinka, received us; and the moment my name -was mentioned, she left me no room to doubt that so far as she was -concerned I was a most unwelcome visitor. - -She was a complete contrast in appearance to Volna. A slight, wiry, -straight-backed, acid-faced, little woman of about thirty, with a pair -of lustrous dark eyes so disproportionately large that the rest of the -features, except her thin straight lips, seemed to pass unnoticed. She -gave me a very frigid bow. “We have of course heard of you from Volna, -Mr. Anstruther,” she said; her tone implying that what she had heard -was by no means to my credit; and before I could reply, she turned to -Ladislas. “Has anything happened that you are here?” - -It was plain to see that he was not at ease with her. “Where is Volna?” -he asked. - -“She is out. You have not brought Mr. Anstruther to see her?” That he -would be mad to think of such a thing was her meaning. - -“I have decided that she cannot safely remain in the city.” - -“Indeed. Why? Or perhaps I should ask this gentleman. You had no such -thought when I saw you last.” - -“I have had grave news from Petersburg this morning, Katinka.” - -“Oh, are you going to run away?” - -“Of course not.” - -“Then how can Volna go?” She was a past master in the art of -insinuation. - -“I have induced my friend here to consent to take her.” - -Her large eyes opened as if in profound astonishment as she looked -first at him and then turned them slowly upon me, and coughed most -suggestively. “_You_ have done this?” Had she put the thought in blunt -words she could not have expressed more plainly her conviction that I -had concocted the plan for my own ends and that Ladislas must be blind -and mad to consent to it. - -“Yes, I have; Mr. Anstruther understands precisely the relationship -that exists between Volna and me.” - -“You mean which should but does not exist between you,” she corrected, -significantly. - -“Anstruther is my loyal friend, Katinka.” - -“Have I expressed any doubt on that point?” - -“Miss Drakona is prejudiced against the English, Robert,” said -Ladislas, turning to me. He flushed with vexation and appeared anxious -to apologize for my reception. - -“That is surely my country’s misfortune,” said I. - -“That is insincere; but being English you of course cannot help it,” -was the reply, very unpleasantly spoken. - -Ladislas very foolishly took this up. “Anstruther is my friend, -Katinka,” he said warmly. - -“I don’t see that that affects the sincerity or insincerity of what he -says. Mr. Anstruther may as well know that he has caused a great deal -of trouble in our family, and that so far as my brother and myself are -concerned, we do not thank him for it.” - -“My remark just now was merely intended as one of common politeness, -madam,” I said. “I am not glad when I find any one prejudiced against -my countrymen. And I am quite sincere in expressing regret if I have -caused trouble to any of your family.” - -Her large eyes were fixed coldly upon me while I spoke and at the end -she paused and said--“Indeed!” with a most disconcerting effect. - -An awkward pause followed, broken by the entrance of the brother, to -whom she introduced me in these terms. “This is Mr. Anstruther, Paul, -who has come with Ladislas to induce Volna to run away from Warsaw at a -moment when the flight of any one from this house would be a disgrace -to the cause of the Fraternity.” - -As might be expected, the introduction did not please him. “I am not -aware that we need the interference of any outsiders, sir.” - -“That is the word--interference,” agreed the sister. - -“It is nothing of the sort, Katinka,” declared Ladislas, brusquely. -“I have brought my friend, Paul, to help in getting your mother and -Volna into some place of safety until the troubles here are over. He -knows all about the Bremenhof entanglement and all about--er--Volna and -myself. He acts entirely at my suggestion and on my behalf as my friend -in this matter. You know that if any violence breaks out, the city will -be no safe place for Volna or her mother--or any woman.” - -“I am not going to run away,” said Katinka, with placid malice. “But -of course Volna will jump at such a chance. Until this last deplorable -affair, she was accustomed to listen to _our_ advice.” - -“I see no necessity for it, Ladislas,” was Paul’s verdict. - -“We are of _no_ account, Paul. It is not what _we_ think, of course.” - -“Where is your mother?” asked Ladislas. - -The question was answered by the entrance of one of the sweetest old -ladies I have ever seen. Just Volna, thirty-five or forty years older; -but Volna without the spirit and capacity and plucky resource I had -seen her shew. - -“You are Mr. Anstruther, I am sure,” she said, as she gave me her hand -with a sweet gracious smile. “I know you by my Volna’s description; and -thank you from my heart for all you did.” - -The brother and sister exchanged looks and shrugs. - -“I did no more, madame, than any one would have done in a similar case.” - -“You saved my dearest child, sir; and a mother’s heart knows how to be -grateful.” - -“He wishes to do more now, Madame Drakona; and take you and Volna away -from the city until these troubles have blown over,” said Ladislas. - -An expression of perplexity clouded her face and she glanced doubtfully -and nervously toward the other two. “I don’t think I understand,” she -said, weakly. “I should like to go, but----” she stopped, and it struck -me she was looking for Katinka’s sanction. - -“These things are to be settled without regard to what we Drakonas -think,” said Katinka. “Of course I regard it as indecorous, -impracticable, unnecessary and cowardly. But my opinion is not even -asked;” and she folded her hands and tapped her foot and assumed the -air of an injured martyr. - -“It is not my suggestion, madame, but that of my friend, Ladislas -here,” I said to the old lady. - -“I am sure I don’t know what to do. I wish Volna were here. Could -we go?” she replied; and then a long and at times bitter discussion -followed in which I took no part. The dear old soul was swayed first -one way by Ladislas and then another by Katinka. Paul’s part was -chiefly that of echo to his sister, who, I noticed, first settled -things for herself and then put the responsibility upon him; and held -up his opinion as final and decisive. - -How long the discussion would have lasted and how many bitter -insinuations Katinka would have thrown out about me it is impossible to -say; but the end came in a fashion that was both dramatic and startling. - -Paul was called away to the telephone and when he returned to the room -he was ashen pale and intensely agitated. - -“There has been a massacre at Petersburg. The troops have fired on the -people and thousands have been killed.” - -A dead silence fell on us all, broken only by a groan of anguish from -Ladislas. We looked at one another in silent horror as the realization -of what it might mean to all in Warsaw began to force itself upon us. - -Even Katinka was awe-stricken and aghast. - -We were still under the spell of this strained silence when a maid -servant scared and white of face rushed in. - -“The police are here, madame, and ask for you,” she cried. - -An officer followed the girl, and out in the hallway I saw a file of -men drawn up. - -“Madame Drakona?” he asked. - -“I am Madame Drakona. What do you want with me?” asked the old lady, -rising. - -I noticed that Paul instead of stepping forward to the mother’s side -remained by his sister. - -“I have to ask you to accompany me to the offices of the Department, -madame,” said the agent. - -“To ask me? I don’t understand,” she replied feebly. “Katinka, Paul, -what can this mean? When do you wish me to go, sir?” - -“My instructions are that you accompany me immediately.” - -“But there must be a mistake. I am sure there must be. I cannot go -until I have seen my daughter. She is out. Can I not wait until she -returns?” - -“Are you sure there is no mistake?” asked Paul; as Katinka crossed to -Madame Drakona. - -“My instructions are too precise to admit of that.” - -“By whose instructions do you act?” I asked. - -“I cannot answer that,” was the reply. - -“Do you mean that any charge is preferred against this lady?” - -“I have only to do my duty, sir.” - -I turned to Paul. “Could you not telephone to Colonel Bremenhof?” - -Katinka took this to herself. “You hear your orders, Paul,” she -snapped. Even in that moment her spite predominated. - -“I do not need your advice, sir,” he said; and this perfectly obvious -step was not taken, for no reason apparently except that I had -suggested it. - -“Can I wait for my daughter to return, sir?” asked Madame Drakona. - -“Volna can do nothing,” declared Katinka. - -“I regret, madame, that I have no power to permit that.” - -“Can you tell us nothing about the reasons for this?” asked Paul. - -“Nothing whatever. I know no more than yourself. I wish indeed that the -unpleasant duty had been given to some one else to perform.” - -“I do not blame you, sir,” said Madame Drakona, very graciously, -despite her agitation. “I will get ready.” - -“I must ask you not to be longer than five minutes.” - -He held the door open for her to leave. Katinka went with her and at -a sign from the leader, one of the men followed them up the stairs -and remained at the door of the room into which they went. The leader -stayed with the rest in the hall. - -“What can this mean?” asked Ladislas, aghast. - -“A good thing that no one else is on the list,” said Paul. - -“You must find that a great consolation,” I could not help saying. Paul -turned on me angrily, and Ladislas held up his hand. - -“It will do no good to quarrel,” he said. “What is to be done? Do let -us try to be practical.” - -“The man who can tell you what it means is Bremenhof.” - -“Of course you will go with your mother, Paul?” said Ladislas. - -“I see no object to be gained.” - -“Better ask Miss Drakona,” I suggested, drily. - -“Your tone is very singular, sir,” declared Paul angrily. - -“Far less singular than your unreasoning hostility to me, in which you -appear to echo your sister’s prejudice.” - -“Robert!” protested Ladislas. - -“You are not here by our wish,” cried Paul. - -Madame Drakona came in then, and I saw that Katinka had made no -preparations to go with the mother. - -“Ladislas, you and Mr. Anstruther will stay to see Volna, won’t -you?” asked the old lady, who was much less distressed than I had -anticipated. “She will be so troubled; and she thinks so much of your -advice, Mr. Anstruther. You will stay?” - -“Certainly at your wish,” I agreed. - -“I don’t see that this gentleman can do any good,” murmured the sister. - -“We will both stay, if possible--but one of us certainly,” said -Ladislas. - -“Tell her you don’t think this is a serious thing; it can’t be really; -and I daresay I shall be back again almost before she is home.” - -“I will tell her,” replied my friend. - -She kissed Paul and Katinka--both of whom were as unmoved as though she -had been going for an afternoon drive--and then shook hands with us. -“Volna will rely on you, I know, Mr. Anstruther. Now, sir, I am ready. -Be sure and make Volna understand I am not in the least frightened, -Ladislas.” - -That was her last word spoken with a brave smile as she drove away. - -As soon as we re-entered the house Katinka opened fire at me. “I think -we can do what has to be done alone, Paul.” - -“Madame Drakona asked us to remain, Katinka,” said Ladislas. - -“I wish you could believe, madam, that I have no desire except for the -good of you all,” I put in. - -She fixed her eyes upon me and replied slowly, “I wish I could, sir; -but you have influenced my sister so much against us that I find it -impossible.” - -“How can you think of such pettiness, Katinka, in face of that awful -news from Petersburg,” cried Ladislas. “Great God, it passes my -comprehension.” - -“Are you going, sir?” asked Paul. - -“No. I am not. I promised Madame Drakona to remain until her daughter -returned, and shall do so.” - -“Of course,” agreed Ladislas, pausing a second as he strode up and -down the room in great distress. His excitement mounted fast, and his -fears of coming trouble in the city, caused by the ill news from St. -Petersburg and brought close home by the arrest of Madame Drakona, -oppressed him till the burden became almost unbearable. - -An hour and more passed in this way. Now and again he would break into -fitful heated discussion with Paul and his sister; sometimes he turned -to me with feverish speculations about what would happen; anything in -the effort to relieve the weight of his trouble-laden thoughts. - -Two or three times the telephone bell summoned Paul; and each time he -returned the three would hold whispered counsel together; to end in the -same way, by Ladislas resuming his anxious pacing of the room from end -to end. - -At last some message more disturbing than the rest came. - -“Paul and I must go. I dare not stay,” he declared. “You will do what -must be done here, Robert. They are waiting for us, and God knows -what may happen if we do not go;” and paying no heed to my protests, -scarcely hearing them, indeed, he and Paul hurried away. - -Katinka and I sat on in grim silence. - -I had caught some of the infection of Ladislas’ alarm at coming -trouble; and my one concern now was for Volna’s safety. Even the -embarrassment at the thought of meeting her again was dominated by my -fear for her; and I waited a prey to very gloomy doubt and anxiety. - -She came in not knowing that I was there. She saw only Katinka as she -entered with the question, “Where is mother?” - -Then she saw me and started back in sheer astonishment. Her eyes -lighted, she paled slightly and then the colour rushed to her face and -with both hands outstretched she came to me as a week before at the -priest’s house in Kervatje. “Is it really you?” - -I took her hands. “It is really I.” - -Then Katinka got up and coughed. “Of course I am not surprised; but it -is none the less scandalous, sir, considering Volna’s mother has just -been taken to prison.” - -The piteous look of pain and alarm on Volna’s face as her hands fell -from mine made me wish for the moment that Katinka had been a man. I -could then have told her plainly some of the things I thought about -her. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -DEFIANCE - - -“To prison? Do you mean that, Katinka?” asked Volna; her tone low and -tense. - -“Do I usually say one thing and mean another?” - -Volna turned swiftly to me as if seeking a contradiction. - -“Where is my mother, Mr. Anstruther?” - -Katinka’s large eyes flashed angrily. “Do you wish to insult me, Volna, -by appealing from me to this new English friend of yours?” - -Volna ignored her save for a gesture. “Mr. Anstruther?” - -“I stayed at your mother’s request to assure you that she does not -think it serious.” - -“My dear, dearest mother!” A piteous cry of sorrow and pity; and then -a change to indignant reproach. “This is your doing, Katinka, yours -and Paul’s and uncle’s; with your miserable plots and schemings and -intrigues! And having done the mischief, you were such a coward as to -leave her to face the consequences alone. Shame on you! If I had no -other cause to hate your conspiracy, your cowardice in this would make -me do it.” - -“Don’t be theatrical, Volna.” - -“If it comforts you to cover your cowardice with a sneer, do so. I do -not envy you the consolation. I should have thought even you would be -ashamed.” - -“I shall not remain to be insulted before a stranger.” - -“When the truth bites like an insult, I can understand how it hurts to -hear it. I shall go to my mother, of course. You will help me find her, -won’t you, Mr. Anstruther?” - -“Of course he will--for Ladislas’ sake,” said Katinka, turning to -deliver her last shot as she went out. - -“What does she mean?” asked Volna with a start. “She has so many barbs -in her speeches. But it doesn’t matter--nothing matters until we find -mother. Where do you think they have taken her? How can we find out? -Oh, I feel half distracted.” - -“I think Colonel Bremenhof holds the key,” I said, very quietly. - -She was bending over a small table and looked up instantly and sharply, -hesitated and then replied: “This must be explained. They have told -you--about him?” - -There was just a suggestion of a challenge in her tone; but the -question gave me an opening to make the explanation of my position, -which had to be made somehow. - -“Oh, yes. Ladislas told me.” - -“Ladislas?” Surprise and a dash of indignation in the tone. - -“No one could have a truer friend than you have in Ladislas.” - -To my consternation she broke in with a laugh: “Why do you tell me -this?” - -“He is my friend also, one of my closest friends. I am under a deep -obligation to him. He saved my life--I think I told you--at the peril -of his own; and to-day he told me not only about Colonel Bremenhof -but--but everything.” - -“Everything?” There was no smile now, but just a steady look. - -“You are making me speak rather bluntly. He told me, I mean, how deeply -he cared for you and he asked me to remain in Warsaw and come here to -try and be of some help to you--as your sister said--for his sake.” - -A pause of considerable embarrassment for me followed. Then she said -merely: “Well?” - -I felt very awkward. “I think that’s all,” I stumbled. - -“I suppose I ought to be very much obliged to Ladislas,” she said, and -dropped her gaze upon the table. - -“His idea was that I could have helped your mother and you to get away -from the city.” - -“On your way to England, of course?” she asked, without looking up. - -I hesitated. “Yes, on my way to England. Father Ambrose urged me to -go to England, you know, as soon as possible; and General Eckerstein -also.” - -“I hope you will have a pleasant journey. Warsaw is just now a very -questionable pleasure resort.” - -“Is that my dismissal?” - -She looked up and dropped the formal tone which had hurt me. “I thought -you wished to go.” - -“That is harder still,” I said. - -She gave me her hand impulsively. “But you don’t really think I wish to -say things that hurt you. After what you have done for me and what you -have had to suffer? Don’t go away with that thought, please.” - -“I don’t wish to go away at all, until I have been of some help to you. -I wish only to make things plain.” - -“Oh, then we are not saying good-bye,” she explained, drawing her -hand from mine again, and smiling; only to change the next moment to -earnestness. “Why surely you know there is no one whose help I would -rather have than yours.” - -“For Ladislas’ sake,” I said. - -Her eyes took a half wistful, half smiling expression. “No matter for -whose sake. We seem fated to be always on a sort of half false footing -to one another. Strangers one hour, English the next, then fellow -conspirators, and then after that brother and sister, and now----” She -paused, as if at a loss for a word. - -“Friends,” I prompted. - -“Oh, yes, always friends, I trust.” - -“Then let us try to think what can be done for your mother.” - -“My dear mother. I must see Colonel Bremenhof, of course. Even with you -to help me, the way is very hard to see.” - -“Shall I go to him with you?” - -At that moment the door was opened quickly and Colonel Bremenhof -entered. - -He was intensely surprised to find me in the room and I think quite as -angry. It was Katinka’s doing. - -“Your sister told me I should find you here, Volna,” he said; “but not -that any one was with you. Least of all, Mr. Anstruther.” - -Volna drew herself up and without taking his outstretched hand asked: -“Where is my mother, Colonel Bremenhof?” - -“I have come to speak to you about her.” - -“They tell me you have had her arrested. Can that be true?” - -“I wish to see you alone.” - -“Until my question is answered, I will not speak to you alone; and if -her arrest is your work, I will never see you again.” - -“There are many things to explain. Will you be good enough to leave the -room, sir?” - -“Will you please stay, Mr. Anstruther?” said Volna quickly. - -“Volna, I must see you in private. For your mother’s sake. Now, sir.” - -“If Mr. Anstruther goes, I go,” she declared. - -His face grew as dark as a thundercloud. “You forget yourself, Volna. -Does this gentleman know----” - -“That we have been betrothed? Oh, yes. It was Mr. Anstruther who saved -me from the police at Bratinsk and afterwards. He naturally has my -entire confidence. I know him for a friend, and he was about to start -with me now to see you and get the truth from you about my mother’s -arrest.” - -“You are making a very unfortunate admission which may very greatly -affect him.” - -I couldn’t stand this. “Be good enough to leave me out of the question -for the moment, Colonel Bremenhof,” I said. “I think I have shewn you -that I know how to take care of myself.” - -“Have you dared to arrest my mother?” asked Volna again. - -“Madame Drakona is not arrested at all. Those who are concerned in the -matter of this national trouble wish to ask her certain questions which -she will, I hope, be able to answer quite satisfactorily.” - -“What do you mean by you ‘hope’ she will be able to answer?” was -Volna’s prompt retort. “I hope that even you would not stoop to the -baseness I can read under your words.” - -“In the absence of certain evidence, Madame Drakona has nothing to -fear. That is all,” he said, doggedly. “Let us speak of this alone, -Volna.” - -“No!” she cried, with indignant emphasis. “Are you so ashamed of your -act that you dare not discuss it? I know what you mean by what you call -the evidence against my mother. You used your opportunities here and -set your spies to scrape it together and you keep it in your own hands, -holding it over me to force me to comply with your wishes. You are -that kind of man. Now, what is your price?” - -It was as easy to see that she was right as that her scorn and contempt -struck right home. He changed colour, twisted his beard nervously, -glanced at her, and from her to me; and stood baffled, disconcerted, -scowling and silent. - -“What is your price? Are you ashamed to name it before Mr. Anstruther?” -she went on, in the same bitter tone. “On what terms will you consent -to put that evidence in my hands? Can you do it? If I should consent to -pay the price, what guarantee should I have, not only that you could, -but that you would, keep any bargain you made? I should surely need -some. I am ready to save my mother. Now, what is your price?” Her face -flushed, her eyes shining, her manner eloquent of her contempt for him, -she presented a magnificent picture of angry scorn. - -He cut a pitiful figure in contrast, as he winced and cowered under -her words as under the lash of a knout. He cared for her. There was no -doubt of that. But it was this very love which made him suffer then. -Hard, callous, cruel, indifferent to the suffering he made others -endure, he cringed now under the mental torture she inflicted. - -It galled him the more that of all men I should be the witness of his -humiliation; nor was I at any pains to conceal my pleasure at his -discomfiture. - -When she spoke next, her tone was cold, quiet, and biting. “You are -still ashamed to name it? You would do the thing itself, mean and -dastardly as it is; but the mention of it harrows your delicate sense -of honour. You are a Russian, and worthy of your country. You have -thrown my mother into prison in order to force me to marry you at once. -That is the price you will not name aloud; and that is a price I will -not pay.” - -The frown on his face deepened ominously as he muttered. “You are -betrothed to me.” - -“The one thing in my life I am ashamed of. It was a sham betrothal, and -you are welcome to the truth now. I was at least honest with you. I -told you there was on my side none of that feeling which a girl should -have at such a time, and that I was heart free. What I did not tell you -was that the betrothal was intended to save those about me from danger -at your hand. It served its purpose until to-day, when you have struck -this coward’s blow. Now, thank God, the truth can be told.” - -Chancing to glance into a mirror at this moment, I caught sight of -Katinka listening, white-faced, in the doorway. At this avowal of -Volna’s she threw up her hands and hurried away. - -“You admit you tricked me?” said Bremenhof between his clenched teeth. - -“Call it what you will, I have told you now the truth.” - -“You understand what this means?” - -“I am not afraid of you. Say what you will and do what you will. I will -save my mother in spite of you. Unless she is set free, your part in -this shall be made known. How you have constantly held over me the -threat of my mother’s arrest; how at my instance you have failed to do -your duty--if it was your duty to arrest me--and how you have abused -your official power to serve your personal ends with me. You have done -your worst now; and have failed. And if justice is not really dead in -Russia and we Poles are aught but your serfs, I will see that if we are -to be punished, you, our accomplice, shall not escape your share of -that punishment.” - -“My God!” he exclaimed under his breath, abashed for the moment by -her magnificent boldness. Then anger rallied him. “We will see,” he -muttered, and turned to leave. - -I stepped between him and the door. - -“Let him go, if you please, Mr. Anstruther. Let him do what he dare.” - -Without even another glance at her he went out. - -“Thank Heaven the truth is out at last,” she said. - -“I wonder you had the courage. What will he do?” - -Before she answered, Katinka came in dressed for the street and looking -very angry and alarmed. - -“You are mad, Volna. I heard you. At such a time as this to speak so. -You have placed us all in peril. You should be ashamed. Much you care -for your mother!” - -“I don’t think you can even guess how much, Katinka,” answered Volna -very quietly. “Where are you going?” - -“Anywhere rather than stay here after that. You had no thought for Paul -or for me, of course. We are not safe another minute. Paul is with -Ladislas; I have warned him by the telephone. I congratulate you, Mr. -Anstruther, upon the disastrous result of your interference.” - -“You must not say that, Katinka. This is not Mr. Anstruther’s doing; it -is my own act, and mine only. But by all means save yourself.” - -“The police may be here at any moment to arrest us all.” - -“Then why waste time in staying to reproach me?” - -Katinka’s great eyes flashed angrily. “Have you taken leave of your -senses?” she cried. “You have never been like this before. It is sheer -folly and madness.” - -“I told him no more than the truth,” replied Volna; adding after a -slight pause: “One of the really delicious moments of my life.” - -“You purchased your pleasure with the safety of us all. Perhaps that -will add to your enjoyment,” retorted Katinka, as she hurried out of -the room. - -“Katinka is eager for national independence, but she does not like it -in the family.” - -“What do you suppose Bremenhof will do?” I asked. - -“I don’t feel as if I cared at this moment. I am just revelling in my -emancipation.” She threw herself into a chair and leaned back clasping -her hands behind her head. “I suppose I did not know myself; certainly -I never realized before what a capacity for deep feeling I have. I seem -to be waking up. Oh, how I hate that man!” - -“I think we should be doing something practical,” I suggested. - -She sighed impatiently and sat up. “You are shocked because I tell you -I can hate?” - -“I mean merely that he may send to arrest you; and you should be -prepared.” - -She rose. “If he does I must fall back upon Ladislas.” - -“Ladislas?” - -She crossed to the door, turned, and with a slow smile I had learnt to -know well, answered: “Did he not get a promise from you to help me? I -should never have dared to do what I have done to-day if you had not -been here. But influence like that has its responsibilities, also, you -know, and you----” The sentence was interrupted by the servant who -rushed in then. - -“The police are here again, Miss.” - -The loud summons at the house door confirmed her ill news. Bremenhof -had not left us long in doubt as to what he meant to do. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -A BLANK OUTLOOK - - -Volna appealed to me. “What shall I do?” - -“Let us get away if we can,” I said. - -“Come then. We can leave the house by the garden. But suppose they do -not seek me?” - -“We can’t risk waiting to find out If not, your maid can call to us.” - -We hurried to the door leading to the garden, and as we closed it the -servant admitted the police at the front. - -It was quite dusk and the heavy snow covered the sound of our footsteps -as we hurried through the shrubbery to a small door in the high wall -which bounded the garden at the end. - -As we paused a few seconds on the chance of the servant recalling us, -I whispered a warning to Volna. “There may be some one posted on the -outside. Let me open it.” - -She gave me the key and I turned it as softly as the stiff lock would -permit. I was opening the door gently when it was pushed quickly, and a -man entered and seized Volna by the arm. - -“We thought you might----” - -Before he could finish the sentence I grabbed him by the throat. -Fortunately for us he was a small man and like a child in my hands. I -gave him a pretty rough shaking and then pitched him backwards into -the middle of a wide laurel bush where he lay kicking helplessly, -struggling to extricate himself, and gasping for breath to call for -help. - -Before he succeeded in getting out his first loud cry we were out of -the garden, had locked the door upon him, and turned the first corner. -We had to run for it, and by good luck there was no one about to notice -us in the first two or three streets. - -When we reached the main thoroughfare we slackened our pace to a quick -walk until we got a sleigh which carried us out of the chance of -immediate pursuit. - -“Almost like a moment of Bratinsk,” said Volna. - -“I wish we were there, or anywhere out of the city. We’ll change -sleighs in a minute.” I stopped the sleigh soon afterwards at the door -of an hotel, and held the porter in talk while the driver whipped up -and left. Then we hurried away in the opposite direction. - -“Now where are we going?” asked Volna. - -“An old nurse of mine lives in the Place of St. John, No. 17; I shall -be safe there until we decide what to do.” - -“Is it far?” - -“Not too far to walk if you think that safer.” - -“I do, because a sleigh driver can always be found and questioned.” - -During the walk, evidence of the popular unrest was to be seen on all -sides. - -“The city is not like itself,” said Volna, as we crossed the great -Square of St. Paul. The place was half filled with groups of workmen -engaged in sullen discussion, while numbers of police stood at hand -watching. “Sunday evening usually finds every one holiday making.” - -We paused a moment near one or two of the groups. Everywhere the -subject of talk was the same--the massacre at St. Petersburg. - -Whenever we paused near any group I noticed one or two men leave it, -saunter up to us and scrutinize us curiously. Whether they were police -or workmen it was impossible to say. - -“You are interested in these matters, friend?” asked one of them. - -“All are interested,” I answered. - -“You were listening?” he returned suspiciously. - -“Yes, I was listening.” - -“There are only two kinds of listeners in Warsaw, sympathizers and -spies. Those who sympathize draw close; those who spy had better move -away.” - -“I am a foreigner.” - -“There are spies of all nationalities.” - -“I am no spy, but I’ll take your advice;” and we moved on. - -Almost every street corner had its cluster of men, and always the talk -was the same. If the workmen of St. Petersburg were massacred, what -could those of Warsaw expect? Were they to go on suffering like sheep? -Which was the better, to be slaves for the master’s gain, or to be men -and resist? - -Two or three times the anger of the strikers took violent form. Men -were caught making notes of the names of the talkers, the cry of “spy” -was raised, and in a moment fifty hands were outstretched, fifty oaths -leapt from wrathful lips, and the victims were hustled, battered, -kicked, and sent sprawling into the gutters. - -“And Ladislas believed there would be no violence,” I said to Volna as -we hurried on after one of these episodes. - -“Poor Ladislas! But I am frightened for what will happen to-morrow. -I have never seen this temper among the people before. How will it -affect my mother’s case? If there should be any popular outbreak, the -difficulty of helping her will be infinitely increased. The friends on -whom we could rely at any other time will then be helpless. They are -all Poles.” - -“There is another way to look at it. Bremenhof’s powers will be much -greater and he can more safely hold back the evidence against your -mother which you said he had. Is he really such a brute?” - -“He boasted to me one day, when my mother and I were at his house, that -he had it in a private safe, and that it rested with me whether it -should ever leave there.” - -“Umph! A courteous gentleman. Will he use it now?” - -“If I know him, he will not until he has given up every hope of -carrying his purpose with me.” - -“Even after your splendid defiance of him to-day?” - -She smiled. “He has that quality which so often wins--patience. I -believe he suspected from the first what the object of the betrothal -was, and just set himself to rivet the chain until I should not dare to -break it. While I was away he threatened my mother that if I did not -return at once, her arrest would be used to force me back.” - -“Well, look at it as we will, he has us tied up in a tangle bad enough -to satisfy even him.” - -“It is not so bad as if his men had caught me just now. He would have -been much nearer his end. So long as I am free, I can fight him; but -he knows what his power would be if he had both mother and me in his -hands.” - -It was in truth a devil of a tangle. With Madame Drakona in prison, -Bremenhof had his hand on the lever which controlled everything; and to -get her out seemed hopeless. - -“This is the Place of St. John,” said Volna, presently. “That is the -house, No. 17, across there. I will leave you here. What will you do?” - -“I shall go to Ladislas and let him know what has occurred.” - -“Poor Ladislas! What do you think he can do? You will find him with his -hands full of more serious matters than even my troubles.” - -“Nothing could be more serious in his eyes,” I said. “And you, what -will you do?” - -“Wait until to-morrow, that is all.” She spoke with a rather weary -smile. - -“That is not the courage that defied Bremenhof. The people may win in -the impending struggle, and then everything will be changed.” - -“They may,” she agreed, but with no hope in her voice. - -“You don’t believe it?” - -“There is always hope.” - -“We may find another way. Nothing is impossible for such courage as you -have shewn.” - -“There is always one way open to me in the last resort.” - -“You mean?” - -She looked up steadily. “What should I mean but surrender?” - -“Not that, for God’s sake,” I cried impetuously. - -“Don’t think me a coward for naming it. It would take all the courage -you think I have. But he knows how I love my mother, and that it would -kill her to remain in prison. To-morrow she must be freed at any cost.” - -“No, no, don’t think of that. Think of your own brave words in defying -him.” - -She smiled again. “That is just it. Brave _words_, nothing else. He -knows they were but words.” - -“I’ll find some other way. You’ll think differently to-morrow.” - -She paused and then gave me her hand. “I’ll try. If any one can give me -confidence you can.” - -“How shall I see you to-morrow? Is there any risk in my coming to the -house?” - -“It will be better not. One never knows. I will be in the Square of -St. Paul--where the strikers’ meetings were--at eleven o’clock. But, -remember, my mother must be freed to-morrow at any cost.” - -“Then I know what I have to do,” I answered, confidently, “and I -repeat, I’ll do it somehow.” - -As I turned away, having watched her enter the house she had indicated, -I could not resist applying the phrase--“brave words, nothing else”--to -my own resolve to find some means of bringing Bremenhof to terms. I -could see no way to make it good, to make it more than mere words -intended to encourage her. It looked a sheer impossibility. - -Short of calling the man and shooting him for the old insult to me or -forcing a fresh quarrel upon him, there was nothing I could do, and the -utter futility of any such crude plan was too patent to do more than -increase my impotent anger. - -I was hurrying to Ladislas’ house when I remembered that I had had no -food for some hours and had nowhere to sleep. So I went to the big -hotel, the _Vladimir_, and had dinner and engaged a room, lest Ladislas -should deem it imprudent for me to stay with him. - -As I sat over my dinner brooding, it appeared to me that the only -hope for Volna lay in the success of the popular movement; and after -dinner I lingered some time in the streets, intensely interested in the -progress of affairs. - -The excitement and general unrest were certainly increasing fast, -and the temper of the people was rising. The groups of strikers were -growing larger. In some places crowds had gathered, and were openly -cheering speakers who no longer took pains to lower their voices. In -many places the agents of the Fraternity were busily distributing -leaflets embodying the workers’ demands. There were many proofs of this -growing confidence. - -More than once the police and the people came into open conflict; and -each time the police were worsted, to the great delight and manifest -encouragement of the crowd. Then, as men moved from one spot to -another, the idea of a procession was generated; bands were formed and -united, and began to parade the streets. And in all places at all times -men appeared ready primed to take the lead, all acting together as -though the whole work had been carefully prepared and rehearsed. - -A blind man could have seen that grave trouble was in the making, and -I saw abundant proof that, although such leaders as my friend might -counsel peaceful methods, the populace were in that ugly mood which -would lead them to laugh at peaceful counsels and to rely on force and -violence. - -It was a night of such crisis for the city that I was surprised to find -the authorities apparently heedless of the rapidly growing peril. - -At Ladislas’ house, however, I had a glimpse of their plans. There were -lights in some of the windows and everything was apparently as usual. -A servant admitted me and when I asked for my friend, he ushered me -into the library, saying his master would come to me directly. - -Instead of Ladislas, however, a stranger came--a young man, -well-dressed, courteous, and politely insinuating. - -“The leaders of the Fraternity are now in conference and the Count -cannot leave them for the moment. Will you join them or can I carry any -message?” - -He referred to the Fraternity with a sort of secretive suggestiveness; -but it nevertheless surprised me that the subject should be mentioned -so openly. - -“I can wait,” I said. “I merely wish to see him privately.” - -“Let me carry a message. He may be some time. On such a night as this -the meeting must necessarily be lengthy. I am in his confidence, his -private secretary, in fact,” he added, when I made no reply. “And of -course, in full sympathy with him in all.” - -“I didn’t know he had a secretary, but you will probably know my name, -Robert Anstruther.” - -“Oh, are you Mr. Anstruther? Yes, indeed. I am glad to meet you, if you -will allow me to say so. You have probably come to see him about----?” -He paused as if inviting me to finish the sentence. - -“Well?” - -He laughed pleasantly. “You will think it very stupid of me, but in the -multiplicity of things which in this crisis in the city have crowded -upon me, I have lost the clue. Let me think;” and he put his hand to -his forehead as if in perplexity. - -He was evidently a very sharp, clever fellow, but it struck me that his -sudden forgetfulness was a little overacted. - -“I am not surprised you can’t remember it,” I said with a smile -intended to be as frank and pleasant as his. - -A quick glance from his keen eyes, not intended for me to notice, put -me further upon my guard. “That is very good of you. But I take it what -you have to say is for the Count’s own ears?” - -I looked steadily at him a moment. “I am thinking where I have seen you -before,” I said, preparing to make a shot. - -“I have not had the pleasure, I am sure,” he replied, with another -smile; deprecating this time. He had as many different smiles as a -woman. “I do not forget faces and should instantly recognize such a -friend of the Count as Mr. Anstruther, if we had met before.” - -“I have it,” I exclaimed, banging my hand on the table. “You were -in the Police Headquarters when I was arrested and taken there from -Solden.” - -It was a good guess, and his surprise unmasked him for an instant. -“What do you mean, sir?” - -“That you are an agent of the Department. Your people arrested me as a -conspirator and imprisoned me until my friend, General von Eckerstein, -explained the mistake. Count Ladislas Tuleski and I are old friends, -and as the General has advised me to leave Warsaw, I did not wish to -go away without bidding my friend good-bye. But I suppose you have -raided the house, and made it a trap for any one you think you should -suspect. Not a nice trick perhaps, but then our English methods differ -from yours. Now, how do I stand? Do you wish to repeat the farce of -arresting me?” - -In view of the ugly incident with the police agent when helping Volna -to escape, I was a great deal more anxious about his reply than my easy -smile may have led him to believe. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -POLICE METHODS - - -We dallied with the question and I thought he was going to repudiate my -suggestion; but after a slight pause his manner became official. - -“If you recognize me, there is no reason for further concealment. We -are in possession of the house and my object was to learn the purpose -of your visit. I invite you to tell it me plainly.” - -“It is merely personal and private. If I leave Warsaw to-morrow, I -shall not have another opportunity to see my friend.” - -“A mere friendly call? At such an hour as this? On one of the leaders -of the conspiracy which is threatening the whole city?” - -“It is no novel experience for me to make a statement which at the time -is not believed by the agents of your Department and to have the truth -proved later.” - -“Where have you come from?” - -“I dined at the _Hotel Vladimir_ about a couple of hours ago; since -then I have been in the streets.” - -“Also for private and personal purposes?” - -“I am an Englishman and always interested in watching the results of -misgovernment. A mere personal interest, of course.” - -He liked this no better than I intended. “Your visit here to-night -is full of suspicion, sir, and the account of your movements very -difficult to believe.” - -“In England such a remark would be treated as an impertinence; but -there we manage matters differently, and even police officials speak -the language of courtesy.” - -“This is not England,” he said with a sneer. - -“Thank God that at least is true. But all the same, need we ruffle one -another’s tempers? I am ready to do what you wish, I can’t help myself, -of course.” - -“What is your address?” - -“The night before last I was a guest of your Department in the fortress -of Kreuzstadt. Last night I stayed at the house of my friend, General -von Eckerstein. To-night I meant to ask Ladislas to put me up; and -to-morrow I might be on my way to God’s country once more. As it is, -I shall return to the _Hotel Vladimir_, unless of course you have -any----” and I waved my hand to indicate that he might like to finish -the sentence. - -“My instructions are to send all who come to this house to the -Department. One of my men will accompany you.” - -“I am ready,” I answered, curtly. “It is a pity you did not act on your -instructions before and save time, instead of trying to trick me into -admissions.” - -“You can make your explanations there, sir, and lodge any complaint -you please,” he replied; and in a few minutes I was on my way to the -Department in charge of one of his subordinates. - -“You are an Englishman?” he said, after he had been eyeing me very -curiously for some time. - -“Yes, with no great opinion of your methods of government.” - -“From London?” - -“Yes, from London.” - -“I have been in London,” he answered in excellent English. - -“I wonder you ever came back here, then.” - -“I was some time there, in Soho. It was in London, I suppose, you met -Count Ladislas Tuleski?” - -“There and in other places. Has he been arrested to-night?” - -“No. He would have been, but some one gave him notice that his house -was to be raided; and of course he fled.” He laughed as though this -were a joke. - -“Strange how these official secrets get tapped?” I said. - -“The Fraternity has friends in many quarters.” - -“Has it?” - -He laughed again, rather drily, this time, and answered with a shrewd -glance. “Of course you don’t know. Any one calling at the Count’s house -at such a time would not.” - -What was he driving at? His manner suggested more than a mere desire to -pump me. I made no reply, waiting for him to develop the thing. - -“My name is Christian Burski. You may know it,” he said next. - -“How should I, an Englishman, know the names of the Warsaw police?” - -He laughed at this first and then said meaningly, “Not of all the -police, of course. But mine is well known.” - -“Is it? I don’t envy you your reputation, all the same.” - -“Ah, you have no sympathy with the police.” - -“A kind of sport in which I’d rather be hunted than hunter.” - -He smiled. “That’s good. I like your way,” he replied; and then -lowering his voice and speaking earnestly, he added: “Is this visit to -Headquarters likely to be serious for you? Are you suspect?” - -“One would scarcely go to such a place on a night like this from -choice, I suppose?” I answered lightly. - -“There’s a lot of trouble brewing in the streets and it would be easy -for a man to get away from a single guard.” - -After a bribe, I concluded. “Will you smoke?” I asked him and handed -him a cigar. We stood to light up and as the match flared between us -our eyes met. “Why do you say this?” - -“As a peasant farmer, friend,” he laughed. - -I held the match to his cigar and he pulled at it, keeping his eyes the -while on me. “You seem in a hurry,” I answered, laughing in my turn. - -“Immediate,” came the due response. - -“Your name?” - -Up went his left hand as he gave me the sign. “In the eye of God.” - -I thrust out my hand. - -He looked at me steadily and would not take it. It was proof enough. - -“Did you give notice of the raid?” - -He nodded. “Yes. If you don’t wish to go to the Department, we’ll get -into one of these crowds; you can knock me over and get away.” - -I thought quickly. “I don’t think it matters. But you can help me in -a much more important affair. Have we a friend in Colonel Bremenhof’s -house--his private house?” - -“I am there myself,” he answered, with his dry smile. - -“Could you get me admittance?” - -“No, impossible.” - -“If I were once inside could you help me?” - -“At the risk of both our lives.” - -“When will you be there?” - -“To-morrow, I expect. To-night, the raids on the Fraternity leaders -have brought every special among us on duty. To-morrow, the military -will be called out.” - -“If I am not detained at the Department to-night, could you bring me a -police uniform to the _Hotel Vladimir_?” - -“Yes. One of mine. We are pretty much the same height. By whose -orders?” - -“To serve Count Tuleski. There are certain papers in Colonel -Bremenhof’s safe which we must have.” - -“Impossible,” he said, with a shake of the head. “He carries the key -always; and when he is absent a man is always posted in the room.” - -“Which room is it?” - -“The library. The room at the back of the house on your left as you -enter. But there are usually half a dozen men on guard in the house.” - -“At what time after dusk does the Colonel return home?” - -“At six--he dines with his mother and sister.” - -“If you see me in the house to-morrow you will contrive to be on hand, -should any one be called by him. That is all. God keep us all,” I said, -remembering Jacob Posen’s parting salutation at Kervatje. - -“God keep us all,” he repeated. - -We reached the Department soon afterwards and after a short delay I -was taken in to Bremenhof, who received me with a half-suppressed, -malicious chuckle. My guard, Burski, reported that I had called at -Ladislas’ house and the explanation I had given. - -Bremenhof sent him out of the room. “I scarcely expected to see you -here again so soon,” he said, when we were alone. “We have another -charge waiting for you.” - -“I can answer any charge.” - -“Do you wish to communicate with your friends this time?” he sneered. -“Scarcely so, I imagine. General von Eckerstein pledged himself that -you were no revolutionary. Why then did I find you at the Drakonas’ -house this afternoon; why did you aid the escape of a suspect; and -follow it with this night visit to the house of a Fraternity leader?” - -I smiled. “You are not alarming me, Colonel Bremenhof. I am no -revolutionary. I went to the Drakonas’ house because my friend Count -Ladislas Tuleski urged me to help him in protecting from you the woman -he hopes to marry--Volna Drakona; I helped her to escape when you sent -to arrest her; and I went to my friend’s house to tell him what I had -done.” - -“The woman _he_ is to marry?” he exclaimed with a scowl. Then with a -vicious curl of the lip: “So you admit that you helped in this escape?” - -“Why should I deny it? You have the proofs. Your man would identify -me. You can charge me with the offence, but of course in that case the -reasons for the suspect’s arrest must be gone into fully. And you see I -know them thoroughly.” - -He saw his dilemma. “I did not say I should charge you, only that -you have now committed an act which at such a time of crisis carries -serious consequences.” - -It was my turn to chuckle; but I had more to gain than merely turn the -tables on him. - -“I have done nothing which I am not perfectly willing to make known -publicly anywhere. When I learned my friend’s sentiments and hopes in -regard to Miss Drakona, my own object was instantly changed. But for -his persistence, I should probably have left Warsaw to-day.” - -This drew a long, keen, searching look on me. “Does Miss Drakona know -this?” - -“Of course.” - -“Are you aware of the charges against Count Tuleski? That if made good, -they may involve a life sentence, or at least, Siberia?” - -“Why do you tell me this?” - -“You are shrewd enough to understand, Mr. Anstruther.” - -“I will not discuss such a question.” - -“If this matter against you is not pressed, will you leave Warsaw?” - -“How can I? I have agreed to be examined to-morrow about the Bratinsk -matter.” - -He waved an impatient hand. “I can arrange that, of course.” - -“I will go on condition that Madame Drakona is at once set at liberty -and the evidence you are holding back is placed in my hands, and that -Miss Volna Drakona is absolved from all responsibility for the affair -at Bratinsk.” - -I looked for an outburst of anger at this; but he listened closely and -then sat thinking, a heavy frown on his dark face. - -“What is behind that?” he asked after the pause. - -“That Miss Drakona must be a free agent to become the wife of my friend -if she will.” - -“Free to go to Siberia?” he sneered; “or perhaps you mean to England?” - -“There is an end of the thing. I have no use for a man who doubts my -word.” - -“You forget how grossly I have been deceived already.” - -I made no reply, but leant back in my chair, crossed my legs, and -shoved my hands into my pockets with a great show of unconcern. - -“Where is Miss Drakona?” I took no notice. “Can you communicate with -her?” I took a paper from my pocket and began to read it. “If I agree, -when will you leave Warsaw?” I made a pencil note on the paper, folded -it up and put it away with a sigh of weariness. - -“I did not mean to doubt your word. I retract what I said.” - -“That’s another matter. We can resume. Provided you keep faith with me -throughout. Then, as soon as Madame Drakona is free and you have handed -me the evidence against her and satisfied me that the charge against -her daughter is settled, I will go by the next train?” - -“On your word of honour?” - -“On my word of honour.” - -He thought for a moment. “You can arrange to leave to-morrow night. -There will be certain formalities to settle of course. I will see to -them to-morrow. Come to my private house to-morrow at six o’clock and -I shall be prepared with everything. Are you still with General von -Eckerstein?” - -“No. I shall stay to-night at the _Hotel Vladimir_.” - -“You can go. Oh, by the way,” he added in a tone of indifference; “your -manservant has been brought here with your luggage from Bratinsk.” - -Something in his manner struck me. His indifference seemed forced. “Is -he a prisoner?” I asked. - -“Oh, no. Not now.” - -“Let him bring my things to the _Vladimir_.” - -He struck his table bell. “This gentleman has been brought here -needlessly,” he said to the man who came. “He has certain instructions -to give about his manservant. See that they are carried out. -Good-night, Mr. Anstruther.” - -I left the message for Felsen, and as I was passing out I saw Burski. -He gave me a quick glance of congratulation. - -“I am going, you see,” I said. - -“I did no more than my duty,” he answered, for those about us to hear. - -“I have no grudge against you. I hope you will always do no less than -your duty.” - -He noticed the equivocal phrase. “I think I can be depended upon,” was -his equally ambiguous reply. - -“Good-night. I am going to the _Hotel Vladimir_.” - -“It is nothing to me. Good-night.” - -I moved off; and just then some one called out--“Burski, the chief -wants you.” - -I turned my head at the call; and was just in time to catch his eyes -fixed upon me with an expression which set me thinking as I stepped -into the street and started for the hotel. - -It was a look which suggested that the mask was off in that moment. - -Had he been just fooling me? - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -SPY WORK - - -It is never pleasant to have to admit even in the secrecy of one’s own -private thoughts that one has been fooled; nor does the cleverness of -the fooler afford any but the coldest consolation. - -Yet when I sat down to think things over calmly, I could come to only -one conclusion--that in my trial of wits against Bremenhof and his -agents I had been wofully worsted. - -A little thing will suffice to start suspicion; and in this case it was -that strange look which I had surprised on Burski’s face. - -Once started, however, my suspicions gathered like snow flakes in a -drift, and quickly hardened into certainty. Everything seemed to be as -highly charged with doubt, as a bomb with dynamite. I could see how I -had just played into their hands, like a countryman in the care of a -gang of sharpers. - -Why should Bremenhof give in about Madame Drakona; and to me of all -men? He had cunningly led me to believe that it was because of my -changed relations in regard to Volna. But mine were little more than -blank cartridges; yet he had waved the white flag the instant I fired -one at him. - -I could see now how unreal the whole interview had been. He had read my -purpose and had just played with me, keeping his own plan cunningly -concealed. He meant to use me for that plan. What was it? And how did -he mean me to help him? - -There was the matter of Felsen, too. Why had Bremenhof been at the -pains to render me a service? I had not been so dense as not to notice -that his indifference in mentioning Felsen was feigned. What object had -he in sending the man back to me at such a moment? - -I recalled the interview I had overheard between Felsen and the police -agent at Bratinsk. The police had brought him to Warsaw now. What had -been the relations between them in the interval? Were they going to use -him as a spy? It looked very much like it. - -Then I thought of Burski and grew hot with shame at the easy manner -in which I had let the fellow trick me with his use of the Fraternity -signal and pass words, and his offer to let me escape. He had been -fooling me of course; and had succeeded with his subtler effort after -his superior at Ladislas’ house had failed. It was all part of the -system of spy work: and by this time Bremenhof knew everything and was -no doubt laughing at me and setting the snare which was to complete my -overthrow. - -Sackcloth and ashes may be hard wearing apparel; but they don’t hurt -as much as the stings of such humiliation as I felt in realizing my -self-satisfied stupidity and the ease with which I had been gulled. - -The one redeeming point was that my eyes had been opened before it was -too late; and the question was whether I could still get out of the -mess into which I had blundered. - -I soon guessed the drift of Bremenhof’s scheme. It was to ruin me by -convicting me of complicity in the Fraternity conspiracy; and in the -meanwhile to use me to enable him to find Volna. Felsen was no doubt -the chosen spy for the latter part; and Burski for the former. - -My first step was obvious. I must not let either man know that I -suspected him. - -With Felsen this was easy. When he arrived I talked over matters with -him; listened to the story of his sufferings on my account; promised -him a liberal reward for what he had endured; and did my best to make -him feel that he still had my confidence. - -With the police agent, Burski, I had to be much more wary. I had -already had proofs of his shrewdness; and I found him prepared with an -explanation of his call to Bremenhof as I was leaving the Department. - -He sent up his name openly, and as the hotel servant was leaving the -room he said, with official curtness: “A letter from Colonel Bremenhof.” - -It was a formal notice that my examination had been postponed. - -“We are alone?” he asked in a low voice. - -I nodded. “I have only this room.” - -He drew a chair close to mine. “We are in luck. You noticed that the -chief sent for me?” - -“Yes; and was a little surprised.” - -“A rare stroke of fortune. He suspects you and questioned me closely as -to what I had got out of you on the way to police quarters. You know we -agents are supposed to trick a prisoner into admissions.” - -“An infernal system it is, too; but they can’t get at me. They had me -for nearly a week; but I have friends, and they were forced to let me -go.” - -“You must be careful, friend. You are to be watched and----” Here he -smiled very slyly--“The chief has picked me out for the work. Is not -that luck?” - -He was evidently pretty sure of me. “I can’t quite understand that,” -I said, as if in doubt. “As a matter of fact I found the Colonel -willing to do all I asked.” Then I became apparently confidential; -that is, I told him just as much as I surmised Bremenhof would have -told him already; and referring to the visit to Bremenhof’s house, -I laid special stress on the fact that Ladislas, as a leader of the -Fraternity, had assigned the task to me. - -He pledged himself to help and questioned me as to my object. - -“Is that all?” he exclaimed, with a shrug of the shoulders when I said -my object was merely to get the papers. “He is so hated and feared -that I hoped----” here he dropped his voice to a whisper and looked -intently and meaningly at me--“that your orders went farther.” - -I understood him. “I am an Englishman, friend, and no assassin,” I said -firmly. - -He made as if to conceal a natural disappointment. “And this uniform.” - -“A disguise to enable me to get the Count’s friends away under the -pretence of an arrest. But I doubt now if I shall need it.” - -He paused. “A shrewd plan indeed; but not so far-reaching as I had -looked for and hoped. It is best for friends to be frank.” - -“The Count himself as you know is dead against all violence.” - -“The time is past for mere talk; we must act,” he exclaimed, with an -excellent suggestion of suppressed excitement; and he sought to lead me -to discuss the affairs of the Fraternity. - -“I am not a leader and have only to do the task assigned to me,” I -said. “Let others do as they will.” - -“You believe our freedom can be won without violence?” - -“I have only to do the task assigned to me,” I repeated; and would not -be drawn any farther. - -As he was going he referred to Felsen. “You trust your servant? You -know he is also suspect.” - -“I know he is a good servant.” - -“Do not trust him too far. He talks too freely. Be on your guard; and -don’t let him see this uniform. He will know that I have brought it; -and the knowledge might be dangerous to both of us.” - -It was a clever stroke for one spy to put me on my guard against the -other; but my eyes were no longer blinded; and his warning did not -mislead me. - -I was fully alive to the personal risk I was running, and I spent a -couple of hours in very anxious thought, recasting my plans for the -next day. In the end I resolved to act as though implicitly believing -in Bremenhof’s sincerity, and saw how to use one of his own spies to -let him know my intention. - -In the morning I wrote a note to Volna. - - “DEAR MISS DRAKONA,--I am glad to tell you that in an interview I - had with Colonel Bremenhof last night he agreed to hand over to me - the evidence against your mother and also to place it on record that - there is no charge of any kind against you. He imposed one condition; - and I shall comply with it by leaving Warsaw to-night. I think it - better not to call upon you this morning. Therefore I send this by my - servant, Jacob Felsen, who is to be trusted. - - “I wish you earnestly, God-speed, and shall always be - - “Your Friend, - - “ROBERT ANSTRUTHER.” - -I addressed this openly to Volna and gave it to my servant. - -“I am going to trust you with a very important secret, Felsen,” I said -as impressively and earnestly as I could. “The safety of the person to -whom this is addressed may depend upon your good faith. I cannot go to -the place myself, but I feel I can rely upon your doing all I look for -from you in the matter.” - -He answered with a hundred protestations of fidelity; and was so -over-insistent that I was quite sure he meant to take the letter -straight to Bremenhof, who would either hurry to the house himself or -send to have Volna brought to him. He would thus find that I had given -the right address and was apparently acting, as my letter implied, in -reliance upon his word. - -But as I was careful that Felsen did not leave my hotel until it was -impossible for Bremenhof or his men to get to the Place of St. John -before Volna had left to keep her appointment with me, I was risking -nothing in giving away her real address. - -As soon as he was gone I started to meet her. I found Burski in the -hall of the hotel smoking a cigar and chatting with some other men. - -I concluded that I was to be shadowed and that he was there to point me -out to whoever might be detailed for the work. - -“Ah, good-morning, Mr. Anstruther,” he said, coming up to me. - -I stopped and returned his greeting. “What is the news? Is the trouble -over?” - -“No, indeed. It is going to begin. The men in almost every factory and -workshop in the city have struck work: every policeman is on duty, and -the soldiers are being held in readiness. It will be a black day for -Warsaw.” - -“There will be violence, you mean?” - -“Do men get together in thousands and tens of thousands just to shake -hands with one another? You are not going out?” - -“Indeed I am. I have a free day--my last possibly in Warsaw--and I wish -to see matters for myself. Where are the strikers in force?” - -At this moment a man who was sitting near the door rose and sauntered -out, followed soon afterwards by a second. I marked them well; for I -guessed they might be told off to shadow me. - -“They are in force everywhere,” he replied. “Shall you be long away?” - -“Come with me and show me things? One direction is as good as another -for me.” - -He drew me aside and lowered his voice to a whisper: “I am supposed to -be following you, you know. But if you tell me when you’ll get back -here, it will do.” Such a clever assumption of sincerity. - -“Frankly, I don’t know.” I did not; but not for the reason I wished -him to infer. “I may soon have had enough of it.” And with that I went -to the door, glanced up and down the street, and then strolled off as -though I had no purpose beyond the merest curiosity. - -I soon perceived that I was being followed by the two men I had seen -leave the hotel; and a well trained Russian sleuthhound can be very -difficult to shake off. But I had a plan for doing this; and luck soon -favoured me. - -In one of the side streets off Noviswiat Street, the great business -thoroughfare, a crowd of strikers stood listening to a very excited -speaker. I got into the middle of them and just when he was abusing -the employers and cursing the police for taking their side against -the workers, I pointed out the two sleuths to the men close to me and -whispered that they were police spies. The news spread like burning oil -on water; and when I slipped away, the two men were the centre of a -fierce, threatening mob and far too much concerned for their own safety -to care what became of me. - -The incident had delayed me seriously, however, and a glance at my -watch showed me it was already a quarter past eleven, the hour for my -appointment with Volna. - -I had at least a mile to go and after a sharp walk for a couple of -hundred yards, I hailed a sleigh. - -Then the unexpected happened. “The Church of St. Paul as fast as you -can,” I called to the man as he pulled up; and I was stepping quickly -into the vehicle when some one laid a hand on my shoulder. - -I turned quickly; and to my infinite chagrin I found it was the agent, -Burski, a little out of breath, but smiling and evidently on excellent -terms with himself. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -BLACK MONDAY IN WARSAW - - -“I was almost afraid I shouldn’t catch you up,” said Burski. - -“I thought you couldn’t get away?” I growled. - -“Oh, I managed it all right. I thought it would be a pity for you to -miss anything I could shew you on your last day in the city; and such -a day; so I hurried after you. Nearly lost you in that crowd, though. -Going to the Church of St. Paul, are you? That’ll make a capital -starting point. Jump in.” - -But it was not in my programme to take him to meet Volna. “No, I think -as you’re with me, we shall see more if we walk,” I replied, and I -tossed the driver a rouble and dismissed him. - -Burski laughed. “That illustrates one of my pet theories,” he said; -“that you English are sometimes a most changeable and impulsive people.” - -“I am not interested in your theories about my countrymen.” - -“Oh, I won’t force them on you. I hate a man who is always cramming his -views down your throat. He’s a bore--the poorest sort of creature in -the world. Which way shall we walk?” - -“All ways are the same to me.” - -“Let us stroll on then. It will take us to the Church of St. Paul.” - -I was so angry, so perplexed how to shake him off, and at the same -time so anxious to get to Volna that I would not trust myself to -speak. Every minute of delay increased the risk that she might tire -of waiting--or jump to the conclusion that I could not keep the -appointment--and go back to the house where I knew Bremenhof’s men -might already be waiting for her. - -Burski acted as though he saw nothing of my uneasiness. He chatted away -quite unconcernedly, calling my attention now to a church and again to -some public building; and accepting my monosyllabic surly replies with -unruffled complacency. - -Once chance offered of getting away. A great crowd of strikers came -marching past, filling the roadway, and as the accompanying mob of -stragglers surged on to the footpath, I was about to plunge into the -midst of their ranks when he slipped his arm into mine and drew me back -into a doorway. - -“For Heaven’s sake be careful,” he cried. “The scum of the city is -there, and your very life might be in danger.” - -It appeared as though he might well be right; but I could have cursed -him for his forethought all the same. - -The strikers themselves looked formidable enough. There were several -hundred of them, stem-faced men all; resolute, silent, determined, -dogged, as though moved by a common deep-set purpose, they maintained -a rough order of march, leaders at the head and on the flank of each -band. - -The mob hanging on their skirts were of a very different class, -however; ill-clad, dirty, unkempt tatter-de-malions, the dregs of the -alleys and by-ways of the city, ripe for any mischief or devilment. -Evil men and worse women, they shuffled and scrambled and hustled -along, with occasional cheers for the strikers, hoarse cries and -oaths to one another, and execrations for the government: a towsled, -disorderly rabble, unquestionably dangerous, and high-charged with -thoughts and hopes of violence. It would not be their fault if the day -ended without open resistance, looting and bloodshed. - -For many minutes precious to me they filled the streets and made -progress impossible; and before they had passed, a clock near by struck -twelve. - -An hour past the time at which I was to have met Volna. She would -surely have given me up and in all probability had already gone back to -the house to which in my fatuous confidence in my own cleverness I had -been reckless enough to send Bremenhof. - -“Where have the strikers come from?” I asked Burski, as a sudden -thought chilled me. - -“From where we are going, the Square in front of the Church of St. -Paul. They have an ugly look and we shall have Petersburg over again, -if they don’t shake themselves free from the rabble. And it may be even -worse here, for the Fraternity have brought in arms and are prepared to -resist. There will be fighting before night.” - -“Spoken very much like a police agent that,” I exclaimed. - -He shrugged his shoulders. “One gets the habit, I suppose. I was a -police agent long before I joined the Fraternity; and one judges of -things from that standpoint at times. See, they have swept the Square -clear,” he added, as we reached the Church. - -“And at this point we’ll part company, please.” - -He assumed great surprise. “Part company? Why we have seen scarcely -anything yet.” - -“I mean what I say.” - -He paused and then his manner changed. “I am really sorry for this, Mr. -Anstruther.” - -“Sorry for what?” - -“Of course, I have seen that I was not wanted, but the fact is I myself -am being watched. I am compelled to keep with you for an hour or so.” - -“You suggested just now that you came because I had asked you,” I -rapped back. - -“Well, you did ask me, didn’t you? And you put it so naturally that I -really thought you were in earnest.” - -“I wasn’t. I don’t wish to be seen by our friends to-day in the company -of so well known a police agent as yourself.” - -“Let us see then how we can manage it? The simplest way will be for -me to drop behind. The friends won’t know we are together, and my -superiors will see I am obeying orders.” - -“But I don’t wish to be shadowed either.” - -He spread out his hands with an air of bewilderment. “For the sake of -the Fraternity I must not lose my position in the Police. You see that?” - -“I see one thing which is enough for me. I am not going to be shadowed. -You may as well understand that.” - -“But we are not going to quarrel, surely.” - -“If necessary we are.” - -He sighed as though I were most unreasonable. “It has always been one -of my pet theories----” - -“Hang your theories. Are you going to persist in following me?” - -“No, I am not.” - -“Then go your way and leave me to go mine.” - -“Yes, I will do that.” - -But he kept at my side. “Then go back.” - -“Very well. I am sorry I have annoyed you.” - -“I shan’t be annoyed if you leave me now.” - -“I am glad to hear that.” - -“But you are still coming on.” - -“I am thinking.” - -The Square was nearly deserted and I looked everywhere for Volna. The -clock chimed the quarter past the hour. She was not there. - -I pulled up. “I have had enough of this. What are you going to do?” - -“I have a suggestion. Let us go to Colonel Bremenhof and tell him. He -is close here.” - -“Where?” - -“The Place of St. John, No. 17.” - -I turned on him so angrily in my surprise that he drew back a pace and -his right hand went to his pocket, where I guessed he had a revolver. -But he forced a look of indifference, and keeping his eyes on mine -jerked his head in the direction. - -“It is only a short distance across the Square there.” - -It was now quite clear my scheme had gone wrong. Either Volna had been -prevented from coming to meet me; or, having come had been scared away -by the mob, or had given me up. If she had returned home, she was -already in Bremenhof’s power; and the sooner I knew of it the better. -On the other hand, if she was not there, and he or his men were, I -could confront him with the proof of his double dealing. - -“I don’t see why we shouldn’t adopt the suggestion,” I said, -indifferently. “If Colonel Bremenhof has ordered me to be shadowed, I -may as well know why. We’ll go there.” - -“This way then,” he replied, adding after a pause, “I trust you won’t -misunderstand my position, Mr. Anstruther.” - -“Why are you so anxious about it?” - -“You have been so badly treated by the Department, for one thing; and -of course, as a fellow member of the Fraternity, I am bound to help you -all I can. But you don’t seem to trust me.” - -“How did you know Colonel Bremenhof was at this address, the Place of -St. John?” - -“He sent me word this morning.” He told the lie very plausibly and -without the slightest hesitation. - -“You know his affairs pretty closely--what do you suppose he is doing -there?” - -“I should know well enough but, you see, I haven’t been either at -headquarters or at his house since last night, when I left to see you -at the _Hotel Vladimir_.” - -“I should find it easier to believe you if I had not myself sent the -address to him this morning at a time which made it impossible for him -to have communicated it to you.” - -“He has a hundred secret sources of information. He must have known -this long before.” - -“Why?” - -He spread out his hand. “How otherwise could he have sent it to me?” - -“If he did send it,” I retorted drily. - -He stopped abruptly as though an idea had just occurred to him. “Wait. -Wait. How did you send it to him?” - -“By my servant, Felsen.” - -“Then that is it,” he cried. “I suspected that fellow. It was he who -told me the address, declaring the chief had sent the message by him. -He is a traitor, that servant of yours. The scoundrel.” He was quite -hot in his indignation. - -“But you said he was suspect,” I reminded him. - -“I wished to warn you. I told you he talked. I wish I had spoken more -plainly. But you are so quick, I thought you would understand.” - -“I am beginning to now,” I replied, as we hurried on. - -As we reached the Place of St. John the noise of a great tumult reached -us from the direction in which we had seen the strikers marching; the -subdued roar of thousands of hoarse voices, followed first by some -desultory shots and then by the rattle of musketry firing. - -The people about us paused, and then began to run in the direction of -the sound. - -“It has begun,” said Burski. “The troops are stationed by the -Government Buildings and the strikers have come in conflict with them.” - -It was to the accompaniment of this ominous music of revolt that we -approached the house. A small force of police were gathered before it, -and I scanned the windows eagerly for some sign of Volna’s presence. I -saw nothing. - -There was a short delay before we were admitted. Burski drew aside two -of the men and during the short discussion, curious looks were cast at -me. In the end way was made for us and we were allowed to pass. - -The moment we were inside Burski said: “We must wait here;” and another -man who was in the passage placed himself by my side. - -It looked very, very much as though I had walked into a trap and was -once more under arrest. - -I glanced at Burski. “What does this mean?” - -For answer he shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands as though -he was as perplexed as I. “Simply the orders, that’s all.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -NO. 17, THE PLACE OF ST. JOHN - - -We stood silent for perhaps a minute and I strained my ears for the -sound of voices in the rooms near. Not so much as a whisper was to be -heard. - -Presently the stairs creaked above, and I saw a woman, tear-stained and -troubled-looking, peering cautiously down at us. - -“What are you doing there? Come down,” said Burski, quickly. - -I guessed that she was Volna’s old nurse, and that she had been -listening above stairs. She came down, her eyes full of alarm. - -“In which room are they?” I asked, sharply. - -“The back----” she began, pointing to a door, when Burski stopped her. - -“Silence,” he interposed. - -But I had the information I needed and sprang past him and ran up the -stairs. “You must not go up, Mr. Anstruther,” he cried. - -“Why not? I am no prisoner,” I answered; and before he could prevent -me, I had reached the door and entered the room, Burski at my heels, -to find Volna in a condition of mingled defiance and distress, and -Bremenhof pacing the floor angrily. - -“What is the meaning of this?” he cried. - -“That is exactly what I have come to see,” said I. - -Volna got up. “Is it true, Mr. Anstruther, that you sent this address -to Colonel Bremenhof?” - -“Should this man remain to hear what has to be said?” I asked -Bremenhof, pointing to Burski. - -He found the question an awkward one. Unwilling to let Burski overhear -the conversation and yet equally unwilling to remain without some -protection, he was at a loss what to do. - -“Take the key of the door with you, Burski, and remain within call,” he -said, after a pause. - -I waited until we three were alone and then answered Volna’s question. -“It is possible that Colonel Bremenhof obtained the address through me. -How _did_ you get it, sir?” - -But Volna did not wait for him to answer. “He has told me more than -once that in consideration of his allowing you to leave the country, -you betrayed my address to him.” - -I turned to Bremenhof. “Do you repeat that now in my presence?” - -“You have no right to come blustering here,” he said. - -“Do you repeat that story of my treachery now in my presence? Come. -Dare you?” - -“Don’t think to intimidate me.” - -“I thought you would not dare. Now, will you tell Miss Drakona what -really passed last night; or shall I?” - -“These matters cannot be gone into now. You must both come to the -Department and the whole thing shall be----” I put my back against the -door and he took alarm instantly. He broke off and said quickly: “My -men are here.” - -“You will not call them yet, Colonel Bremenhof,” I said very -deliberately. - -“Do you presume to threaten me?” - -“This is a personal matter between Miss Drakona, yourself and me. You -have slandered me to her, and your official position cannot and shall -not--understand, shall not--prevent your giving an explanation.” - -“I’ll soon see about that.” - -“Don’t call your men. I warn you;” and I put my hand to my pocket as -though I had a weapon concealed. I had none; but he was not a difficult -person to bluff; and my look was steady enough to frighten him. - -“Mr. Anstruther!” exclaimed Volna, in alarm. - -“This matter must be set straight, Miss Drakona.” My tone was as -firm to her as it had been to him; and this served to complete his -discomfiture. - -“Now, Colonel Bremenhof, I am waiting.” - -He sat down and was as troubled and fidgetty as a schoolboy waiting -for a birching. His eyes were everywhere in the room, his lips moved -nervously, and his fingers played with his beard. But he said nothing. - -“I will help you to start. You gave me your word last night that Madame -Drakona should be released to-day; that you would place the evidence -against her in my hands at your house to-night; and that all charges -against this lady should be withdrawn. Is that true?” - -“Yes; that is what I have explained,” he muttered. - -“The express object, as I told you plainly, was that Miss Drakona -should be a perfectly free agent to marry my friend Count Ladislas -Tuleski or not as she chose.” - -“I have said that too, in effect.” - -“In effect!” cried Volna contemptuously. - -“The one condition you imposed was that I should leave the country, and -to that I agreed.” - -“That is only your way of putting it,” he said, beginning to gather -courage as the minutes passed. - -“I wrote as much to you this morning, Miss Drakona, and gave the letter -to my servant, Felsen, to bring to you. Have you received it?” - -“Colonel Bremenhof has given it to me, Mr. Anstruther.” - -“Turned letter carrier, eh?” said I, drily. - -“The explanation of my possession of it is perfectly simple. Your -servant was arrested by one of my men this morning; and when he was -searched, the letter was found upon him. I deemed it best to bring it -here myself.” - -“And to add that I betrayed the address to you?” - -“Your man told me that you had instructed him to bring it to me. Of -course, he may have lied. But how was I to know that?” - -His air of blameless innocence, as palpably false as his explanation, -was laughable; but it was my cue at the moment to accept both. - -“There is only one thing that really matters,” I declared. “Are you -prepared to keep your word to release Madame Drakona, to give up the -evidence against her, and to certify officially that there is no charge -against Miss Drakona here?” - -His start of anger and the vicious look he shot at me showed that he -appreciated the tight corner in which this put him. He was hesitating -how to answer, when unfortunately Volna’s indignation would not be -restrained. - -“If you are satisfied with the explanation, Mr. Anstruther, I am -not. Colonel Bremenhof’s charge against you was of deliberate, not -involuntary betrayal. That it was part of your pledge to him.” - -I raised my hand in protest; but it was too late. He saw his chance and -took it at once cunningly. He rose and said: “If I am already judged, -nothing more can be done here. Burski!” he called in a loud ringing -voice. - -I stepped from the door and Burski and the second man entered. - -“You called, Colonel?” - -“We are going to the offices of the Department. Let the Englishman be -searched. He has a weapon.” - -Burski drew his revolver and turned to me. - -“No, you are mistaken. I know what you thought. See!” and I turned my -pocket inside out. “I don’t resist.” - -Resistance being useless, it was just as well to make a virtue of -offering none. - -“You threatened me,” said Bremenhof. - -“Is that the charge against me?” - -“The charge will be explained in proper time,” he snapped. - -“And I will see that the explanation is proper, too.” - -“Silence!” he cried. Now that his men were present, his natural -instincts as an official bully reasserted themselves. - -It was an ugly development of the situation; and my chagrin was the -more bitter because only my own blind self-confidence had brought it -about. - -Volna blamed herself, however, setting it all down to her last angry -interposition. “I am so sorry,” she said to me. “This is my fault.” - -“Not a bit of it. He meant to do it in any case. You only made it a -little easier for him to show his hand. The real blame is mine, as I -will explain to you.” - -“The explanation will have to wait,” sneered Bremenhof. “You have many -other things to explain first. See that a carriage is brought, Burski, -for Miss Drakona to go with me. You will take the Englishman. Take him -away now.” - -Volna gave a cry of distress, and was coming toward me when Bremenhof -pushed between us. - -“You must not speak to the prisoner,” he said, bluntly. - -“Come, Mr. Anstruther,” said Burski. - -“You need have no fear on my account, Miss Drakona,” I assured her, as -I went out with Burski. - -“What is the reason for this?” he asked, as we stood a moment on the -landing, after he had sent his companion for the carriage. - -“It means that for the moment you have out-played me--for the moment, -that’s all.” - -“Can I help you?” - -I looked at him steadily. “Yes, by dropping your pretence.” - -“You wrong me, friend. I can still help you to escape. I can get you -out of the city, if you will.” - -“Colonel Bremenhof’s orders, eh? No, thank you; not again. I am just as -anxious to be a prisoner now as he is to get me out of the city.” - -“He means mischief for you. I told you last night.” - -“You told me many lies last night and acted others. And I have had -quite enough of them and of you. Now, go ahead and do as he told you.” - -He shrugged his shoulders. “If you get to Headquarters it will be too -late,” he said. - -At that moment his comrade came running up. “If the prisoners are to be -taken, Burski, you’d better come. There’s a crowd of the strikers close -by.” - -Burski looked at me sharply. - -I smiled. “May be a bit awkward for you, eh?” - -We went down to the front door. - -“Is the carriage there yet?” asked Burski. - -“Just driven up,” was the reply. - -The clamour of a crowd outside reached our ears. I put out my hand to -open the door and Burski stopped me. He was looking very anxious. “Call -the chief,” he said hurriedly. - -The man sprang up the stairs. - -Burski and I were left alone. - -The clamour outside increased and some one knocked at the door. - -“Why don’t you open the door? If you are in earnest about helping me to -escape, let me call in the crowd.” - -Instead of replying he drew his revolver. - -The knock was repeated, and a voice called: “Burski, Stragoff, either -of you. Quick, man, quick, if you’re coming.” - -The noise of the crowd was growing every moment, and my guard’s -perplexity grew with it. - -The door of the room above us was opened, and Bremenhof called, -“Burski, Burski. Are you there?” - -Attracted by the call his eyes left me a moment. The next I had his -revolver hand in mine, and, having the advantage of the surprise, -wrenched it away from him. - -He called out, and Bremenhof and the second man came running down. - -The noise without shewed that the crowd were close to the house. I -threw the door wide open. - -Two men were on the doorstep and fell back at the sight of the weapon -in my hand. - -The crowd were close at hand, streaming past the corner of the Place of -St. John. - -I fired two shots in the air. At the sound the crowd turned and faced -towards me. - -“The police are here. Rescue! Rescue!” I shouted with all the strength -of my lungs. - -A loud roar of angry shouts answered me, and a number of the men -breaking from the crowd came pouring toward the house. - -The police agents outside darted away like hares. - -At the same instant Burski and the others seized me; and after a short, -fierce struggle I was dragged back inside and the door was slammed just -as the first comers from the mob reached the house. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE TABLES TURNED - - -The tables were turned now, and as the mob howled and clamoured and -hammered at the door, a braver man than Bremenhof might well have lost -his nerve. - -He was pale, and trembled, partly with anger, but more with terror, as -he stared at me in doubt what I would do next. - -The chances of the struggle had left me nearest the door; and as I -had retained possession of Burski’s revolver, I had command of the -situation. - -“You won’t let them in,” he said, as the hammering at the door -increased in violence, and the crowd yelled for it to be opened. -“They’ll tear us to pieces if you do. For God’s sake.” - -“You are willing to keep your word now, I suppose?” - -“Yes, yes, in everything. Everything,” he replied eagerly. - -Then Burski, who was as cool and collected as his chief was agitated, -made a move the purpose of which I was to see later. He whispered to -his companions, and Bremenhof hurried back up the staircase and the -other man ran away to the back of the house. - -“Now, Mr. Anstruther, we must face this out together. What are you -going to do?” - -Those outside were battering at the door with a violence that -threatened to break it down every moment. A heavy stone was hurled -through the small glass light above it, and a loud cheer greeted the -smash. - -I turned and threw the door open and then his object was made plain. - -As I opened it, he sent up a great shout. - -“Help! help!” he called, in ringing stentorian tones. “Thank God you -have come, friends. The rest of the cursed police have bolted, but I’ve -kept this one from escaping. My fellow prisoners are upstairs.” - -It was a clever ruse; and in an instant a dozen hands shot out eagerly -to grab me. I sprang back and Burski tried to block my retreat; but I -thrust him away and reached the stairs. - -“Stop. This is a trick,” I shouted. “That is the police agent. I am an -Englishman. It was I who fired the shots just now and called for help.” - -A babel of oaths and confused cries greeted this; and the men in front -halted a moment in hesitation. - -Burski saw the hesitation. “He lies, like the police dog he is, to save -his skin,” he called. “Look at the weapon in his hand. Some of you will -know the police pattern.” - -A yell of execration followed this cunning stroke, as the crowd -threatened me. - -“I took it from him,” I said; but I was not believed and a rush was -made at me again. - -To stop this I backed up the narrow stairway and levelled the weapon at -them. Those in front flinched and hung back at the sight of it. - -“Do you want any further proof,” cried Burski. “Is there any leader of -the Fraternity here? I can soon convince him.” His cool audacity was -wonderful. - -A cry was raised from some one; and a pause followed while a new comer -elbowed his way to Burski. A shout greeted his coming, and all eyes -were upon the two as they interchanged a few words in low tones. What -passed I do not know, probably some secret sign was given; and it -sufficed. - -“This man is one of us,” was the verdict; and at the decision a -deafening yell of rage and curses broke out as the mob turned to me -again. - -“Police spy. Liar. Dog. Down with him!” - -“Hear me,” I shouted; but my voice was drowned in the curses of the mob. - -Another rush was made at me, to be stopped again by the levelled -revolver. - -Then the new comer held up his hand. - -“If you are a friend give up your weapon.” - -“Clear the house of all except yourself and one or two more and I will. -I can convince you.” - -“Do you want to walk into a police trap, friend?” asked Burski, with a -sneer. He had the crowd with him now and they echoed the sneer with a -laugh. - -But the leader was a persistent fellow in his way. “How many are in the -house?” he asked Burski. - -The latter shrugged his shoulders. “There were plenty just now; enough -to treat me pretty roughly; and I’m no bantling.” - -“There are no police in the house except that man and one other. He -knows that,” I declared. - -The leader turned to the crowd and tried to reason with them; but it -was useless. Not a man would leave the house. Some began to murmur and -growl at him for his interference; and the yells and cries against me -redoubled in violence. - -Then for a while things went all wrong with me. One of the fellows in -the hallway picked up a mat and with a raucous laugh and an oath flung -it at me. It hit me full in the face; and a burst of laughter and wild -cheering hailed the shot. - -Before I knew anything more, another man rushed up the stairs and -caught me by the legs. Down I went backwards, my weapon flew out of -my hand, and in an instant I was hauled down the stairs, feet first -into the seething mass of infuriated men; grabbed here, thrust there, -beaten, kicked and hustled all ways at once, to the accompaniment of -such screeching, oathing and yelling as I hope I may never hear again, -at least under similar conditions. - -Matters would have been much worse with me, indeed, but for one stroke -of luck. One of the crowd, a grimy, vile-smelling creature, in his -eagerness to get a kick at my head fell asprawl over me as I lay -against the wall; I grabbed him tight and hung on to him, using his -fat carcass as a shield until his piercing screams for help let his -friends see what was happening. - -The attack ceased while they dragged him free. I managed to scramble to -my feet at the same time, and with my back to the wall I used my fists -right and left upon the front rank of hot, straining, sweating, staring -faces in a desperate effort to win a way back to the stairs. - -Against such numbers I could gain no more than a moment’s respite, -however. But it proved enough. - -A revolver shot rang out from the stairway and drew all eyes that way. - -It was Volna. - -Running from the room above she had seen my pistol on the stairs and -her quick wits had suggested to her the means of stopping the tumult. -She had discharged it over the heads of the crowd and had thus gained a -hearing. - -Her lovely face flushed and her eyes alight with indignation, she used -the moment of astonishment to dash right into the midst of the crowd -and reach my side. - -“Shame, men, shame,” she cried. “Would you tear your friends to pieces? -I am one of the prisoners and this is the other.” - -The fickleness of a mob is a proverb. Her plucky act succeeded where -all arguments and inducements would have failed. The crowd swung over -to her side and cheered her lustily. - -Burski was quick to appreciate the probable results to him; and I saw -him begin to edge his way to the door to escape. - -“Stop that man,” I called, pointing to him. - -In an instant his path was blocked; and I hoped that he was going to -have a taste of the treatment of which he had secured such a full meal -for me. - -He would have had it surely enough but for an interruption from outside. - -The luck had turned right in our favour. Three or four men shouldered -their way into the house and in their midst I saw my friend Ladislas. -He was known to many of the crowd, who made way for him with a loud -cheer. - -In a few words I made the situation clear to him, and added that -Bremenhof was in the room above, and that if the crowd got wind of it -in their present temper, they would tear him to pieces. - -He succeeded ultimately in inducing the people to leave the house; and -putting Burski in charge of three men, Ladislas, Volna and I went up to -Bremenhof. - -He was in a condition of desperate terror and, as we entered, started -up and stared at us wide-eyed, trembling and abject. - -“You are in no danger, Colonel Bremenhof,” said Ladislas. “They shall -take my life before I will see you harmed.” - -“Not quite so fast as that, Ladislas,” I declared. “Colonel Bremenhof -knew what his man, Burski, intended in setting the crowd on me, and I -have a reckoning to settle.” - -The hunted expression in his eyes which had been calmed somewhat by my -friend’s words, returned as he asked: “What do you mean?” - -“You shall know that in a moment. First understand that the mob are -still outside--their blood is up. They have just been cheated of one -victim, myself, handed over to them in your stead by the cunning of -your man and with your connivance. I have but to open the door and -speak your name to them: and what they did to me will be a trifle to -what they’ll do to you.” - -“Anstruther!” protested Ladislas. - -“This is my matter, man. Leave it to me, please. If you’d been down -under that mob’s feet, you’d feel as I do. Now you,” and Bremenhof -cowered again as I turned to him. “Listen to me. Even when I was in -danger of my life, I kept secret the fact that you were here in the -house; and saved your life. Out of no regard for you, believe me; for I -swear that if you refuse to do exactly what I tell you now, I will drag -you down with my own hands and pitch you into the midst of the rabble.” - -“What do you want?” - -“But little more than you promised me last night. Madame Drakona’s -release at once, and the delivery of the evidence you hold against her, -an official statement that there is no charge of any kind against her -daughter here; and a definite written admission of the part you have -taken throughout this. You’ll play no more tricks on me.” - -“Yes, I agree. I’ll do it the instant I get to the Department.” - -“Thank you. I know how you keep such pledges. You will write the order -for Madame Drakona’s release here at once and will send it by Burski, -your trusted servant, with orders to conduct her to a place we’ll -settle.” - -“But at such a time difficulties may be raised and----” - -“Yes or no, quick. As for the difficulties, you’ll remain in our hands -until you have found how to get over them. Burski was clever enough to -get me into a mess a few minutes since. Now you can use his cleverness -to get you out of one.” - -“Yes. Let me see him.” - -“One word. You are earning your life; understand that. Attempt any -treachery and----” I left the sentence unfinished. - -“I’ll do it,” he agreed. “Anything. Anything.” - -Volna fetched some writing materials and while Bremenhof wrote the -order, I conferred with Ladislas and settled the details of the plan. - -We dared not stay longer in that house because the police would soon -be back in great force to Bremenhof’s rescue; and Ladislas named a -place to which we could take him. But we could not have Madame Drakona -brought to the same place, because Burski would in that event take the -police with her. We arranged, therefore, that Madame Drakona should be -taken to her own house. - -Moreover, as the kernel of everything was to prevent Volna’s arrest, -she could not go home to receive her mother; but that difficulty the -telephone solved for us. We settled to wait at the place to which -Ladislas would take us until a telephone message from the Drakonas’ -house assured us that Madame Drakona was there and alone. - -When the order was ready I fetched Burski. Bremenhof gave him his -instructions, and I said enough to convince them both that Bremenhof’s -safety depended entirely upon their keeping faith with us. - -Ladislas then explained matters to the leaders of the mob. The crowd -had meanwhile decreased in numbers, and those who remained were induced -to disperse. - -A carriage was fetched and we four started, leaving Burski in charge of -a couple of the men who had come with Ladislas, to be dispatched on his -errand as soon as our carriage was out of sight. - -We had done well so far; but there was still much to do. A slight check -to the plans at any moment might mean the ruin of everything. If the -luck lasted, we should win, and only complete success could justify the -desperate move I had taken. - -Would the luck last? - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -THE PLAN PROSPERS - - -If Bremenhof had been less of a coward such a plan as ours would have -been absolutely impossible. But the sight of the mob’s fury had so -saturated him with fear that it bereft him of the power to make even a -show at resistance. - -I did my utmost to play on that terror. During the short ride, I sat -opposite to him, holding in full sight the revolver which had already -done us such conspicuous service; and when we reached our destination I -linked my left arm in his as I walked him into the house, taking care -that he should see I still held the weapon ready for use. - -What I should really have done had he made an effort to escape I don’t -know; but I am sure I had convinced him that I should shoot. That fear -of me made him my slave. He watched my every gesture, started nervously -when I looked at him, and flinched whenever I spoke. - -As soon as we were in the house I set him to work to write the official -declaration that he had investigated the charges against Volna, and had -found them unfounded; and then the full statement of the part he had -played throughout. - -Volna meanwhile called up the servant at their house, and having -ascertained that no police were in possession there, told the girl how -to call us up the instant that Madame Drakona should reach home. - -There was nothing more to be done but to wait for that message. I left -Volna and Ladislas together and remained with Bremenhof. - -The extent to which he was subject to my influence during the hours in -that house was remarkable. To me quite unaccountable indeed. He was -as docile as though I had possessed hypnotic power and had used it to -subdue him. - -With the revolver always carefully in hand I sat and stared at him -steadily, sternly, continuously in one long, tense, dead silence. I -concentrated all my thoughts upon the one essential object, to force -the conviction upon him that death would be the instant penalty of -resistance to my will. - -Twice only was the silence broken. Once when he showed me what he had -written and I ordered an alteration; and once at the close when I asked -him how he was going to get for me the evidence against Madame Drakona. - -This was the one thing in which I could not see the way. I must have -it before the spell of fear I had cast upon him was broken; and yet -I knew, from what Burski had told me on the previous night, the -difficulties which were in the way. What Bremenhof said now confirmed -this, and he was so panic-saturated that I believed he was past lying. -He professed himself as anxious as I was to solve the difficulty. - -The problem was this. The papers were in the safe in his library, and -there was a man on guard over it; Bremenhof had the key with him; and -he had given the most absolute order that no one should even enter the -room in his absence. - -If I went to the house myself with the key and a written authority from -him, it was in the highest degree unlikely, that, being unknown, I -should be allowed to get to the safe. It was very likely indeed that, -on such a day of tumult, I should fall under suspicion, and be promptly -placed under arrest. - -Volna was known to the servants and was thus less likely to fail; but I -was loath for her to run the risk. Burski might be back at the house, -and he knew enough of the matter now to understand that her arrest -would checkmate our whole scheme. - -Bremenhof protested that if I would let him go, he would give up the -papers. “I pledge you my solemn word of honour. I’ll take any oath you -please, do anything you ask.” - -“To whom can you give them?” - -“Come with me, and I will give them to you.” - -“Thank you. I know how you keep faith. I won’t walk open-eyed in -another of your traps.” - -“I’ll send them to you, then.” - -“Yes; by a strong body of police with orders to take me back with -them. I know the risk I’ve run now in bringing you here, and have no -fancy for a march across the plains. You must find some other means. -Otherwise I shall hand you over to the strikers to be held until we -are out of this cursed country.” - -“For God’s sake,” he cried, nerve-racked and abject at the thought; -and after that I resumed the silent watch which he found so trying an -ordeal. - -After a time Volna came in. - -“My mother is free, Mr. Anstruther. She is at home; the agent, Burski, -took her there and no police are left in the house.” - -“You see, I have kept faith,” said Bremenhof eagerly. - -“I see that you couldn’t help it, that’s all.” - -“On my honour I will do all I have promised.” - -“When the devil’s sick he makes an earnest penitent.” - -“I renounce all claim to this lady’s hand.” - -“What the wolf said when he was in the trap.” - -“My God, what do you mean to do then?” he cried, tossing up his hands. - -“I mean to have that evidence. I will adopt your own suggestion and go -to your house with you.” - -“Mr. Anstruther!” protested Volna. - -“Leave this to me, please,” I said. - -“I pledge my honour you will run no risk,” declared Bremenhof. - -Volna’s lip curled at this mention of his honour. “You will not trust -him? You cannot. You must not.” - -“Let me speak to you,” I said. We went outside leaving the door ajar -that I could watch Bremenhof. “I can trust myself in this if not him. -Let your mother leave the house for some place where she will be safe -until you can join her. You must both remain in hiding, prepared to -leave the city the instant we can get you away.” - -“But you----” she interposed. - -“Please. I shall come to no great harm. We have taken a risk with -Bremenhof to-day; but with the proofs against your mother in our hands -and with the papers he has signed here to-day, my friends can put up a -fight on my account which, even if he dares to face it, will get me out -without much trouble.” - -“You must not run this risk,” she protested. - -“I have put the worst that can happen even if he breaks faith and -arrests me; but I have him so frightened, I don’t believe he will dare -to attempt any tricks. I have a way to keep him scared, too. Where is -Ladislas? I want him to get a sleigh with a driver who can be relied on -in an emergency.” - -“I don’t like it. We have no right to ask anything of this kind of you.” - -“You must do what I ask, please.” - -“No, no. I would rather run the risk of arrest myself.” - -“That would do no good now. He has all this against me just the same.” - -“You can leave the city. Besides, if I agree to do what he----” - -“We shall quarrel if you say that again. And I hope we are too good -friends for that.” - -She placed her hand on my arm and looked earnestly in my eyes. “You -don’t know how this tries me.” - -“It is for Ladislas’ sake,” I said steadily. - -She bit her lip and dropped her eyes. “I would rather anything -than this,” she murmured hesitatingly. There was a pause full of -embarrassment to me; then, rather to my surprise, she looked up with a -smile: “I had forgotten. I agree,” she said. - -Her sudden change of manner puzzled me. - -She saw my surprise. “You have convinced me, that is all. I had -forgotten.” - -“Forgotten what?” - -“It is never too late to----” She paused. - -“To what?” - -“To remember what I can still do,” she replied cryptically. “I will -tell Ladislas about the sleigh.” And without more she smiled again and -left me. - -I returned to Bremenhof. - -“I have sent for a sleigh to take us to your house. You have given me -your word that I shall be safe----” - -“I swear it,” he cried eagerly. - -“I am going to trust to it, but not without taking a precaution on my -own account. My liberty will be in your hands while I am in your house; -and you had better know that I would rather lose my life than be sent -to your cursed mines in Siberia. Get that clearly into your mind.” - -“I swear to you----” - -“Never mind about any more swearing. You know by this time that I mean -what I say. And I mean this. I know the risk I have run to-day, and -rather than let your men make me a prisoner I will blow my brains out. -Unlike you, I am not afraid of death. Mark this well, then. I shall not -die alone.” I paused, and added with all the tense fierceness I could -put into my tone and manner. “If you give me the slightest cause to -suspect treachery, even to suspect it, mark you, that instant will be -your last in life. From the moment we leave this house together to that -when I leave yours with the papers in my possession, I shall be at your -side, this barrel against your ribs, and my finger on the trigger. Try -to trick me, and by the God that made us both, I swear I’ll shoot you -like a dog.” - -He gave a deep sigh, the sweat of fear clustered thick on his -grey-white forehead, and he sank back in his chair. - -He was so drunk with fear that he was past speech. He looked up once -or twice as if to speak, and his blanched lips moved; but the moment -his eyes met mine he faltered and trembled and looked down, his tongue -refusing to frame the words. - -Presently Ladislas came in. - -“I wish to speak to Colonel Bremenhof,” he said. - -“Not now, Ladislas,” I said. I would not have the effect of my threat -lessened by any distracting thoughts. - -“I wish to make him understand we have done all we can to prevent -violence in the city.” - -“Go away, please. I have given him all I want him to understand for -the present. Let me know when we are to start.” - -Greatly wondering, my friend yielded and left us alone again. - -With intentional ostentation I looked to the loading of my revolver. -Bremenhof watched me furtively; and each time I looked up from the -task, he shrank and drooped his head. - -At last Ladislas called that the sleigh was waiting. “The driver has -his orders,” he whispered, “and will bring you to us afterwards.” - -“Come,” I said to Bremenhof, as I rose. - -“You are wronging me, Mr. Anstruther,” he stammered, as he got up -unsteadily. - -“I can apologize afterwards,” said I drily. - -As we were leaving the house Volna stood waiting for us, and would have -spoken to me; but I would not leave Bremenhof’s side. - -I was wearing a long cloak, and as Bremenhof and I crossed the pavement -to the sleigh, I pressed close to him and let him feel my weapon -against his body. - -He started and caught his breath in fear. The strain had told on him. -He staggered in his walk, and his face wore the grey look of one on the -verge of death. - -So long as I could keep him in that mood I was safe enough. - -We got into the sleigh in silence, and had barely turned out of the -street when a body of troops came in sight riding in our direction. - -“This will test your sincerity,” I said. “As well now as later. -Remember my oath.” - -At a sign from the leader our driver drew to one side and pulled up. - -I thrust the barrel of the pistol hard against Bremenhof’s side. The -officer recognized him, and with a salute halted his men. - -“We are in a hurry and cannot delay,” I whispered. - -Bremenhof returned the salute and waved his hand for the troops to pass. - -The officer ordered his men to make room for the sleigh and we dashed -on at a high speed. - -“Good,” I said, suppressing a sigh of relief. “You have learnt your -lesson, I see.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -FLIGHT - - -The meeting with the troops proved to be an invaluable incident. - -There had been a tense moment when the question whether Bremenhof would -attempt treachery still hung in the balance. A moment more thrilling -than any I had ever known in my life. - -With his lame and craven submission, however, a change seemed to -come in everything. That I could compel him to cross the city in -broad daylight when hundreds of his police and soldiers were swarming -everywhere, and so frighten him as to prevent him raising an alarm, had -seemed in anticipation little more than the merest forlorn hope. - -But when at the first test he had yielded abjectly, my confidence was -so strengthened and my domination over him so confirmed, that the thing -became almost simple and commonplace. - -We met other bodies of police and military as we dashed over the snow -to the merry peal of our sleigh bells, but not once was there even the -threat of trouble. - -It was rather as though we were making a tour of inspection together, -jointly interested in the police and military preparations for coping -with the excited populace. - -We passed many evidences of the popular unrest. But Ladislas had -apparently given the driver very shrewd instructions as to his route, -for not once did we drive through a street where any actual disturbance -was in progress. - -More than once we saw conflicts going on between the troops or police -and the mob. But always from a safe distance. More than once, too, -we passed where trouble had broken out. Wrecked houses and workshops -told of the anger of the people, and grim patches of bloodstained snow -testified that the troops were not in the city for nothing. - -Here and there we passed strikers whose limping walk, bandaged -limbs, or bleeding faces bore evidence of recent fighting; and we -drove rapidly past more than one small group gathered pale-faced and -sorrowful about a figure stretched at length on the snow. These things -told their own tale. - -Twice Bremenhof was recognized, and howls and shouts and bitter curses -were hurled at us. Once we were followed, stones were thrown, and even -a couple of shots fired after us; but the swiftness of our horses -quickly carried us out of danger. - -I could not help speculating what the crowd would have said and done -had they known the mission on which we were bent, and the grim cause -which had brought us two together upon that strange ride. - -We reached his house in safety, and as the driver reined up his panting -horses I braced myself for the final trial of nerves. - -“Remember my oath,” I whispered, as together we mounted the steps side -by side. My fear was that as soon as he found himself once more in the -midst of his men, his courage would return sufficiently for him to at -least put up some show of fight. - -Had he done so, he must have beaten me. Despite my oath and all my -fiercely spoken threats, I had no intention of shooting him. It was -all just bluff on my part; but I had acted well enough to prevent his -having any suspicion of this. He was convinced that I was in grim, -deadly earnest, and that his life hung on a thread, and he was poltroon -enough to buy it at any cost. - -The proceedings in the house were very brief. - -He went straight to the library and sent the man on guard out of the -room. He was as anxious to be relieved from the menacing barrel of my -revolver as I was to get the papers and be off. - -In silence he opened the safe and after a hurried search found the -papers and offered them to me. They made a somewhat bulky package. - -“Shew me,” I said. - -He opened the package and held each while I ran my eye over it; and -then folded them together in the portfolio and handed it to me. - -“One thing more. A written authority from you to me in open terms. -Just write ‘The bearer is acting by my authority,’ signed and sealed -officially.” - -Without hesitation he obeyed and wrote what I wanted. - -“You will accompany me to the sleigh,” I said, as I pocketed the paper. - -We left the room together arm in arm just as we had entered it, passed -the men in the hall and down the steps to the sleigh. - -Then I saw trouble. - -Some distance up the street a patrol of mounted police was riding -toward us at the walk, and in an instant I perceived the danger this -spelt for me. - -So did Bremenhof. The sight seemed to rouse his long dormant courage. -He pushed me away from him, jumped back, and called in a loud ringing -tone for help. - -The police came running out from his house, the patrol pricked up their -horses; and as I sprang into the sleigh, the street seemed suddenly -alive with men. - -My driver knew his business, however. The horses he had were spirited -and full of blood, and in a moment we were rattling along at full -speed, the bells ringing and jingling furiously, the driver shouting -lusty warnings, and the sleigh jumping and jolting so that I had to -grip tight to save myself from being thrown out. - -The patrol pulled up to speak with Bremenhof, and, as we dashed round a -corner, I saw him mount one of the horses and come clattering after us, -leading the rest in hot pursuit. - -But we had a good start by that time, and my driver, guiding his team -with rare skill and judgment, made a dozen quick turns through short -streets. This prevented our pursuers from spurring their animals to the -gallop, kept them in doubt as to the direction we had taken, and thus -minimized their advantage of saddle over harness. - -To that manœuvre was due our success in evading immediate capture. - -Doubtful of ultimate success in such a chase, however, I proposed to -the driver to pull up and let me get away on foot. - -“The Count is close here,” he replied, to my great surprise; and after -we had raced along in this fashion for some ten minutes, I saw Volna -and Ladislas waiting at a corner. The driver pulled up, and they jumped -in. - -“Sergius was to look for us here,” said Ladislas, in explanation. “What -has happened?” - -I told him briefly as we continued the flight. - -“We shall get away,” he said confidently. “Sergius knows his work. He -has not his equal in Warsaw,” and it looked at that moment as though -his confidence was well grounded. - -Volna was very calm, but the glances she kept casting behind bore -witness to her anxiety. - -“I hope you are right,” I replied to Ladislas; “but you should not have -come.” - -“Were we likely to desert you, Mr. Anstruther?” asked Volna. - -“You could do no good, and the risk is too great.” - -“We had to know what happened to you. I could not rest.” - -I understood then the meaning of her former words. It was never too -late for her last desperate sacrifice should our plan go wrong. “The -risk is too serious,” I repeated. - -It was churlish to reproach them for an act which sprang from a -chivalrous regard for my safety; but they had made a grave mistake. -They had rendered my escape much more difficult. - -Had I been alone I could have left the sleigh and made off on foot. -The crowd in some of the streets was thick enough for me to have lost -myself among them and so to have got away unnoticed. But with three of -us together the case was different. There was nothing for it but to -remain in the sleigh and trust to the driver’s skill to save us. - -Presently the good fortune which had befriended me changed. Turning -into one of the side streets we found the roadway partially blocked by -some heavy drays. We had to pull up, and moments, precious to us beyond -count, were lost as we waited for room to be made for us to squeeze -through. - -The street was a long one without a turning, and before we reached the -end of it, Volna, who was looking back, gave a cry of dismay. - -“They are in sight,” she said; and we saw Bremenhof and three or four -men spurring after us at full speed. - -Ladislas called to Sergius, who lashed his horses and redoubled his -efforts to make up some of the time we had lost. - -“Where are we going?” I asked. - -“To Madame Drakona. Three miles out on the Smolna road.” - -Sergius began his tactics of sharp turns again, swinging round corner -after corner at a reckless speed. But beyond proving his great skill as -a daring whip, he did little good. - -Bremenhof began to gain fast upon us, and at length came within pistol -range. - -He called to us to surrender, and when we paid no heed, his men fired -at us. Volna winced and shrank at the shots; but we were not hit and -held on grimly. - -It could not last much longer, however; and just when things were -looking bad enough from behind, a big dray heavily laden came lumbering -toward us, blocking the whole street. - -“We must give it up,” said Ladislas. - -But Sergius saw a desperate chance and took it. The heavy vehicle was -making for a narrow side street. To wait until it had turned would have -brought Bremenhof upon us, and the leading horses of the waggon were -actually turning into the side street when Sergius, with wonderful -skill, and at the risk of all our lives, swung round into the opening. -Our horses and sleigh cannoned against the leaders, the sleigh gave a -dangerous lurch, was thrown on to the one roller, all but toppled over, -and then righted. It was touch and go; but the luck was ours, and on we -went. - -We even gained a little by the mishap, for our pursuers being unable -to check their horses in time, were carried past the street opening, -while the heavy dray blocked the road and delayed them. - -But the advantage was too slight to hold out hope of escape. - -“We must leave the sleigh and take our chance on foot,” I said. - -Ladislas called an order to the driver, and when we had traversed half -the length of the street and Bremenhof and his men had just passed the -dray, Sergius pulled his animals on to their haunches at the mouth of -an alley, waited while we jumped to the ground, and then dashed away -again at the same reckless speed. - -“We can get through here to the street of St. Gregory, and may find -shelter,” said Ladislas, leading the way through the alley in a last -desperate dash for freedom. - -Then again fortune did us an ill turn. Half way through the place Volna -caught her foot and fell. She was up again in a moment, but limped -badly. She had twisted her ankle in the fall. - -Ladislas and I put each an arm under hers, and in this way made such -haste as we could. - -But the delay served to bring our pursuers close upon us; and they came -running at top speed after us, making three yards to our one. - -Again capture seemed inevitable. Then recalling the incident of earlier -in the day at the house in the Place of St. John, I repeated it. - -I fired my revolver in the air. “The police! The police!” I shouted. “A -rescue! A rescue!” - -It served us in good stead. The noise brought men and women rushing in -alarm and curiosity from the houses on both sides of the alley, while -many others ran in from the street beyond. Seeing our plight they -cheered us and swarmed between Bremenhof’s party and us, blocking and -hampering them so that we reached the end in safety. - -The outlet to the alley was a narrow archway. Room was made for us to -pass, and we gained the street while our pursuers were struggling and -fighting to force their way through after us. - -But again the respite seemed only to mock us. - -We ran out only to find ourselves on the skirts of an ugly tumult. A -short distance to our left down the street of St. Gregory, a fight -was in progress between a considerable body of police and a crowd of -strikers, and just as we emerged from the alley the police were getting -the upper hand and the strikers were beginning to waver. - -Some one raised the cry that a large body of police were coming through -the alley, and the crowd, afraid of being caught between two fires, -gave way and came streaming toward us followed by the police. - -At that juncture Bremenhof and his men succeeded in reaching the street -and joined the other police in a vigorous attack upon the crowd. - -The situation was again critically perilous for us. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -IN THE STREET OF ST. GREGORY - - -The luck seemed to be dead against us. Volna could scarcely put her -foot to the ground and, although she struggled gamely to continue the -flight, Ladislas and I were all but carrying her. - -The crowd went streaming past us as we could make only the slowest -progress; and as no vehicle of any sort was in sight, capture appeared -inevitable. - -Volna perceived this and begged us to leave her. “It will be far better -for me to be arrested alone than for all three to be taken; and you see -it is hopeless now that the three can escape.” - -“I am not going,” said Ladislas. - -“Mr. Anstruther, you have the proofs that will free my mother. If you -will escape and destroy them, she will be safe. Please go.” - -It was a shrewd plea. - -I took out the papers and held them toward Ladislas. “You go. I can -trust my friends to get me out of any mess.” - -“No; to-day’s business with Bremenhof is too serious for that,” he -answered. “Besides, this is my affair. Go, Robert. It is sheer madness -for you to remain. You can do no good.” - -“If my mother is safe, Mr. Anstruther, I do not care. For her sake as -well as your own, get those papers away.” - -I glanced round and saw Bremenhof was fast forcing his way to us -through the scattering crowd. - -“We may get a sleigh or a carriage at the end of the street there,” I -said; and without more ado, I picked Volna up in my arms and ran up the -street with her. - -The crowd cheered us lustily. Some one recognized Ladislas, rallied the -flying crowd and succeeded in reforming them again when we had passed. - -Perceiving this, and recognizing that we might in this way escape even -at the last moment, Bremenhof, hoping to awe the crowd, ordered the -police to draw their revolvers. At first the people fell back, but -encouraged by the cries of the man who had constituted himself the -leader they formed again, and answered the order to clear the way with -yells and shouts of defiance. - -Losing his head Bremenhof told his men to fire. A ragged volley of -pistol shots followed and two men fell wounded. - -For an instant a solemn hush fell; and then rose such a wild fierce -yell of rage and fury from the mob that the police drew back in -suspense. - -The two parties stood facing one another for a breathing space. Then -some one threw a heavy stone and struck one of the police in the face. -Two of his comrades near him fired in return. A volley of stones was -hurled by the crowd, and a wild and desperate conflict was waged over -the bodies of the fallen men. - -People came running to the scene from all directions. Many of them -were armed with clubs, hatchets, crowbars, and such weapons as could -be snatched up in a hurry. Some carried revolvers; and, as we stood -awhile, unable for the press of the people to get forward, a fierce -hand-to-hand fight was waged. Hard blows were given on either side, -shots were exchanged, and blood flowed freely, until the police were -beaten back in their turn and had to fly. - -The mob whooped and yelled and halloed savagely over their victory, and -pressed forward hot and eager to wreak their anger upon the flying men. - -The triumph was short-lived, however. Into the street from the end for -which we were making swung a large force of troops to the rescue of the -police. - -I drew Volna back into the doorway of a house as they passed at the -double; and the fight broke out again this time with the advantage all -against the strikers. - -Men fell fast, and the crowd scattered and made for cover in the houses -on either side of the street. - -Escape for us was now impossible for the time, for the fight raged -close to the door of the house where we had sheltered. - -In the thick of the fight at some distance from us, I could see -Bremenhof. If he had been a coward while we two had been alone and -he believed death to be close to him, he was no coward now. He was -not like the same man. Passion, or the company of his men, gave him -courage. He was everywhere, directing his men and exposing himself -fearlessly where the fighting was hottest; and always seeking to press -forward as though in pursuit of us. - -Fresh tactics were next adopted by the crowd. Men who had fled from -the street appeared at the open windows of the houses and fired on -the police and troops from this vantage. Many shots told; and to save -themselves from this form of attack, the troops began to enter the -houses in their turn and search for the armed men. - -And all this time the press and throng of police and strikers made -escape for us impossible. - -After a time the training of the troops and police told; the crowds -in the streets lessened; many prisoners were taken, most of them -bloodstained with marks of the conflict; and the noise of the conflict -began to die down. But not for long. - -The news that fighting was in progress had spread far and wide, and -a body of strikers who had been parading the main street near were -attracted to the scene. - -The police in their turn found themselves caught between two hostile -mobs; and the flame of fight which had almost flickered down flared up -again more luridly and vigorously than ever. - -The prisoners were torn from the grasp of their captors in the moment -of surprise, and hurried past us to the rear of the fighters. - -The troops were still strong enough, however, to make the fight even; -and after the first moment of surprise, their discipline told. They -formed in lines facing up and down the street, and settled down with -grim resolve for the deadly work before them. - -Then came a loud cry of “A barricade! A barricade!” - -In little more than a minute a couple of heavy waggons were trundled -out from a side street, and turned over close to where we three were -waiting. Out from the houses were fetched a heterogeneous collection -of furniture--bedsteads, mattresses, couches, chests of drawers, shop -counters, chairs, tables, anything and everything that lay to hand was -seized and brought out. Some were even hurled from windows above. And -behind the impromptu rampart armed men crouched mad with long pent -passion, and eager to wreak vengeance upon their enemies. - -Meanwhile Ladislas had viewed the scene with fast mounting distress and -agitation. The deliberateness of these last preparations for the fight -seemed to appal him. The sight of this harvest of violence sprung from -the seeds of his own revolutionary theorizing wrung his heart. Dreaming -of victory by peaceful means, the horror of this bloodshed and carnage -goaded him to despair. His suffering was acute. - -Heedless of his own safety he rushed hither and thither among those who -were leading the mob, dissuading them from violence and urging them to -abandon their resistance. - -Half a dozen times when he had dashed out to press his plea of -non-resistance, I had had almost to drag him back into safety. - -The lull that came when the barricade was forming gave him a fresh -opportunity. In vain I told him that nothing could stay the fight now -that the smouldering wrath of years of wrong had flamed into the mad -fury of the moment, and when the wild passions of both sides had been -roused. - -Volna joined her voice to mine and urged him. - -But in his frenzy of emotional remorse, he paid no heed to us. “Don’t -you see that all this horror is the result of what I in my blindness -have been doing?” he cried. “The thought of it is torment and the sight -of it hell. Would you have me skulk here to save my skin when an effort -now may stop further bloodshed?” - -With that he rushed out. - -He went first among the strikers, and we saw him advising, arguing, -urging, pleading, commanding in turn with no effect. Those whom he -addressed listened to him at first with a measure of patience but -afterwards with shrugs, sullen looks, intolerant gestures, and at last -with stubborn, angry resentment at his interference, or jeers and -flouts according to their humour. - -And all this time the preparations were not stayed a second but hurried -forward with feverish haste and vengeful lust of fight. - -At length, I saw him thrust aside roughly, almost savagely, by one -burly fellow who had been building the barricade and now stood gripping -a heavy iron crowbar and wiping the sweat from his brow. - -This act served as a cue for the rest. Ladislas was passed from hand to -hand, and pushed with jibes and oaths, from the centre of the barricade -to the pavement. - -For an instant he tried a last appeal to the men about him; but their -only reply was a jeering laugh, half contemptuous, half angry, but -wholly indifferent to every word he uttered. - -Just then a loud command from the officer in charge of the troops was -given and the soldiers advanced a few paces and levelled their guns. - -In a moment Ladislas had climbed over the barricade and rushed forward -into the space between the troops and the mob. He ran forward with -uplifted hand. - -“For the love of God, peace,” he cried to the officer, his voice clear -and strong above the din. “No more blood must be shed.” - -For an instant a silence fell upon both sides, and all eyes were fixed -upon him. - -The next, a single shot was fired from among the ranks of the troops. - -Ladislas’ uplifted hand dropped. He staggered, and turned toward the -mob, so that all saw by the red mark on his white, broad forehead where -the bullet had struck him, and fell huddled up on the road. - -It was the signal for the fight to break loose. A wild, deep groan of -execration leapt from every throat behind the barricade, followed by -shouts and cries of defiance. His fall at the hands of the troops had -raised him to the place of martyr; and those who had been quick to jeer -him now shrieked and yelled for vengeance upon his murderers. - -Surely an irony of fate that he who had given his life in the cause of -peace should by his death have loosed the wildest passion for blood. - -A ghastly scene followed. As the soldiers charged the barricade, the -mob offered a stubborn and desperate resistance. Many of them were shot -down, but there were others ready to take their places. Time after time -the troops reached and mounted the barricade only to be driven back. -Once they carried it, and commenced to charge the crowd behind; but -they were outnumbered many times, and the mob beat them, and hurled -them back and pursued them even across the barricade, inflicting -serious loss. - -I seized that moment to run out and recover the body of my poor friend. -I found him; and as I was carrying him out of the press of the tumult, -the troops rallied, and the tide of the fight came surging back past me. - -The chances of the struggle brought Bremenhof close up. He saw me, and -with a cry of anger rushed to seize me. - -Some of the mob had seen my effort to get Ladislas away. One of them -had stayed to help and he was thus close at hand when the attempt -was made to capture me. Thinking that the intention was to prevent -my carrying Ladislas away, he pressed forward and with a savage oath -thrust his revolver right in Bremenhof’s face and fired. - -This act proved the turning point in the fight. - -Fierce shouts of exultation went up as Bremenhof was recognized. The -strikers halted, rallied and reformed, and they renewed the attack upon -the troops with irresistible vigour and drove them back helter-skelter -in all directions. - -The mob had won; but at a cost which had yet to be counted. Nor did -they stay to count it. The street resounded with whoops and yells of -victory. Flushed and sweated with their exertions, the men were like -children in their delight. They shook hands one with another, and -laughed and sang and shouted and even danced in sheer glee. - -They had beaten the troops; had sent them scurrying like frightened -hares to cover; they had carried the cause of the people to triumph; -they had spilt the blood of the oppressor; and the taste of it made -them drunk with the joy of the new found power and strength. - -Some one started the Polish national air. The strain was caught up and -echoed by a thousand deep-toned, tuneful voices with an impression to -be remembered to one’s dying hour. - -A crowd came round me as I stood by the two dead bodies. - -Bremenhof’s corpse was kicked and cursed and spat upon, till I sickened -at the sight. - -Ladislas was lifted and borne away, with the care and honour due to a -martyr, to the strains of the national air. The revolution had begun in -terrible earnestness; and that day’s fight was its baptism of blood. - -As the men bore Ladislas away, I went back to Volna to tell her the -grim news and get her away to a place of safety. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -AFTER THE STORM - - -The death of Colonel Bremenhof caused a profound sensation; and the -most varied and contradictory reports were circulated about it. - -The authorities branded it assassination, and threatened the most -rigorous punishment of those whom they deemed the murderers. - -The members of the Fraternity were charged with responsibility for it; -and were declared to have laid a deep and far-reaching plot to destroy -him as one of the chief executive leaders of the government. - -The strikers were jubilant over the event. He had fallen in fair fight, -they alleged, when leading the police and soldiers to attack peaceful -citizens; and his death was hailed as triumph and encouragement to -their cause. - -In fact almost every conceivable reason was given--except the truth. - -There were a few who looked a little deeper for the cause; and among -these was my old friend General von Eckerstein. - -Three days after the outbreak of the riots I called to bid him -good-bye, and I found him deeply impressed and full of interested -speculation about the matter. - -“What beats me, Bob, is what business he had to get into the thick -of a street fight,” he said. “He must have been mad. From what I have -heard, his whole conduct that day was more than eccentric.” - -“Wasn’t it his duty, then?” I asked casually. - -“Duty? What! To go out and fight the mob? What do you suppose the -ordinary police and soldiers are for?” - -“He must have had some private motive then.” - -He turned on me like a flash. “What do you mean? Do you know anything?” - -“No, nothing officially.” - -“Good Heavens! where have you been the last few days; since you were -here?” - -“I told you just now that I returned to the city this midday, to see -the last of my poor friend Ladislas. He was buried about the same time -as Bremenhof. Ladislas’ funeral was not nearly so imposing a ceremony, -but there was vastly more genuine grief.” - -“Oh, nobody liked Bremenhof as a man; but that so high an official -should have fallen in such a way! But you--where were you on Monday?” - -“I stayed at the _Vladimir_ on Sunday night and left Warsaw on Monday -evening.” - -“And all that day?” he asked with a very sharp look. - -“Oh, I was moving about in different parts of the city.” - -“Did you see that fight in the street of St. Gregory?” - -“Yes, amongst other things.” - -“Do you mean you know what took Bremenhof there?” - -I nodded. “He was after me as a matter of fact. It’s a pretty bad -tangle, but if you haven’t got your official ears open, I’ll tell you.” -I told him enough to make the matter clear. - -“And after that you dare to shew your face in Warsaw? Are you mad, boy?” - -“There is no daring about it because there’s no risk. There was only -one man who knew me in the affair--the police spy, Burski; and he has -his own, right enough. He was playing spy at a meeting of the strikers -on Tuesday night; and one of the men who was in the house at the place -of St. John recognized him. He was a fellow of resource and iron nerve, -and tried to brazen it out that he was a Fraternity man. But he failed.” - -“You mean?” - -“They lynched him then and there.” - -“The infernal villains!” - -“If it comes to that Bremenhof, who was buried to-day with full -military honours, wasn’t much to boast of.” - -“If you’re going to turn revolutionary you’d better get out of the city -and be off home. Luck like yours won’t last, boy.” - -“I’m going. I’ve done nothing except checkmate a scoundrel. Given the -same circumstances, I’d try it again.” - -He looked at me with a half whimsical smile. “Where is she, Bob?” - -“Not so far from Warsaw as I hope she soon will be, General.” - -“You got her out of the city then?” - -“Oh, yes, without much difficulty. When the crowd got the upper hand -in the street fight it was easy for us to get away. I drove with her -to the place where Madame Drakona had been sent. Then I hurried to the -_Vladimir_ and put on the police uniform which Burski had brought me. -That, coupled with the special authority I got out of Bremenhof and -helped by a blunt discourteous official manner, made things easy. I -could have taken a train load of women out of Warsaw. Two were a mere -detail.” - -“Do you understand the fearful risk you’ve run?” - -“One doesn’t always stop to consider that. Things have to be done -and one does them first and thinks afterwards. Besides, I had a good -object.” - -“What do you mean?” He asked this very curtly. - -I smiled. “It was in the cause of freedom.” - -“In the cause of fiddlesticks. What’s Poland’s freedom to you, that you -should risk your life for it?” - -“Nothing.” - -He started and his eyes brightened meaningly. “Oh, I see. The freedom -of the girl, eh?” - -“Isn’t it a good enough cause for me?” - -“I suppose you think so,” he said drily. “Are you in a fit state now -to take an old diplomat’s advice?” - -“Yes; if I agree with it, of course.” - -“Oh, of course. Well, it’s this. Get out of Warsaw and out of Russia, -and stay out.” - -“Haven’t I come to bid you good-bye? Give me credit for something. I’m -going by the next train.” - -“Where?” - -I laughed. “I like the rural districts of Poland. I’m going first to -Solden. Do you know the neighbourhood?” - -“Solden? What in the name of----oh, is she there?” - -I nodded. “At Kervatje, a few miles’ drive from there.” - -“But the police of Solden know you both. They brought you here.” - -“There is nothing against either of us now. Bremenhof’s death has -made all the difference. The evidence against Madame Drakona has -been destroyed, and the charge against her daughter was never made -officially. There’s no one now to make it.” - -“Arrests are being made wholesale, boy, with or without charges, in -consequence of his death. Where are the brother and sister?” - -“I don’t know, and I daren’t make any inquiries.” - -“Oh, there _is_ something you daren’t do, then? I don’t like the -thing, Bob, and that’s the truth. Look here, I’m going through to -Berlin to-morrow; stay here till then and travel with me. I shall know -you’re out of mischief then.” - -“I should like it but--well, the fact is, you see, I shan’t be -travelling alone.” - -He laughed drily. “As bad as that, eh?” - -“Yes, if you call it bad. I don’t.” - -“Are your papers in order? Your passports?” - -I shook my head. “My own is, but not the rest.” - -“How do you want it worded?” he asked with another grin. - -“Oh, the usual way, whatever that is,” I said a little sheepishly. - -“Robert Anstruther and----” - -“Laugh away. Can you help me?” - -“Give it me. Even I don’t know how a man carries his mother-in-law on -his own passport.” - -“It is a bit awkward; but I don’t want a hitch now.” - -“Look here, boy. I’ll stretch a point for you. I’ll go by way of Cracow -and will pick you up at Solden to-morrow. I’m travelling special, -and you shall all go through in my saloon;” and scarcely waiting to -listen to my thanks he hurried me off to the station, sending his -secretary with me to make sure that no difficulties were raised about -my departure. - -At Solden I found Volna in a sleigh waiting for me. Her face lighted -and she welcomed me with a glad smile. - -“You wonder to see me; but I was so anxious I could not stay at -Kervatje.” - -“I have very little news.” - -“Do you think it was only the news?” - -“What else?” - -“Bob!” - -“You’re getting quite pat with that name, now.” - -“Peggy had to learn it, you see.” - -“And Volna?” - -“Volna felt like rushing off to Warsaw when that train was so late,” -she replied earnestly. - -“I like that answer; but there was no cause for anxiety, I’m glad to -say. Our troubles are over. To-morrow afternoon we shall be in Cracow.” - -“I had a brother once who used to say that,” she said, with a laugh and -a glance. - -“Are you sorry you’ve lost him?” - -She answered by slipping her hand into my arm and nestling a little -closer to me. We sat for a time in the sympathetic silence of mutual -happiness and perfect understanding, listening to the rhythmic music of -the sleigh bells as the three horses glided rapidly over the snow. - -Then I told her of my old friend’s promise to see us safely to Cracow -in his saloon. - -“Will there be any one else there?” - -“I don’t know. Some of his staff, perhaps.” - -“It will be a little trying,” she said, with a show of dismay. - -“Why?” - -“As if you didn’t know. Think of the ordeal for me.” - -“You’ve faced much worse things bravely enough. Besides, you won’t be -alone: You’ll have your----” - -“Bob!” she interposed quickly, with a lovely blush. - -“Your mother with you. Mayn’t I say that?” - -“You were not going to say that.” - -“What was I going to say?” - -“Volna has all Peggy’s instincts, remember.” - -“Well, I challenge you to say what you think I meant.” - -“I’m not in a fighting mood to accept challenges.” - -“I dare you to say it, then.” - -“Don’t be a coward, Bob.” - -“I’ll say it then. You’ll have your----” - -“Bob.” - -“It’s quite true. If you keep your promise of two days ago, and Father -Ambrose does his duty to-morrow. I shall be----” - -“There’s the way to Cracow; do you recognize it?” she cried quickly, as -we reached the forked roads of which Father Ambrose had told us. - -“That’s the way a brother and sister went; but this one to-morrow a man -and his----” - -“How lucky we were not to have the snow that time, weren’t we?” she -broke in again. - -“That wasn’t the real luck in my eyes. My luck was when I lost my -sister and found in her place my----” - -She held up her hand, laughing and blushing vividly. “If you do, -I’ll----” - -“Then I’ll wait until Father Ambrose has said it.” - -“I shan’t mind then. Oh, Bob, won’t it be lovely!” and she laughed and -squeezed my arm, and pressed her head against my shoulder. - -All of which no doubt sounds very much like foolishness. It goes to -shew that we were very young of course, very really in love, and very -happy after our strenuous time. As happy indeed as any two young people -could wish to be who were to be made man and wife within a few hours. -In those hours a deal of happiness is just so much foolishness. - -In one thing Volna was wrong. It was no ordeal that awaited her on the -journey with the General to Cracow. - -At her first glance he fell before her; and by the time we reached -Cracow he was almost as much in love with her as I was. - -During the journey he shewed such tact, too. He devoted most of his -time to Volna’s mother; and having told her he had learnt that Katinka -and Paul had left Warsaw and gone to Vienna, he kept her talking most -of the time in one corner of the saloon, while Volna and I were alone -in another. - -When we parted at Cracow he took Volna’s two hands and pressed them, -and smiled as he said tenderly, and very earnestly: “I can understand -Bob now that I’ve seen you. You were just made to be loved as I know he -loves you, my dear.” - -And to me, drawing me aside: “I told you yesterday your luck wouldn’t -last, boy. I take that back. I pray God it may; and that you may always -be worthy of it. Good-bye, boy.” - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE CAUSE OF FREEDOM *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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