The Everlasting Arms Part 19

Suddenly the spell, or whatever it was, left him. He was d.i.c.k Faversham again--keen, alert, critical. He realised where he was, too. He had accompanied Mr. John Brown to this place, and he had listened to words which were revolutionary. If they were translated into action, all law and order as he now understood them would cease to be.

Around him, too, chattering incessantly, was a number of long-haired, wild-eyed men. They were discussing the speech to which they had just listened; they were debating the new opportunities which the times had created.

"Ah, you two have met!" It was Mr. John Brown who spoke. "I am glad of that. This is Olga. She is a Princess in Russia, but because she loved the poor, and sought to help them, she was seized by the Russian officials and sent to Siberia. That was two years ago. She escaped and came to England. Since then she has lived and worked for a new Russia, for a new and better life in the world. You heard her speak to-night. Did you understand her?"

"Only in part," replied d.i.c.k. "She spoke in a language that was strange to me."

"Yes, yes, I know. But, as you see, she speaks English perfectly. We must get away from here. We must go to a place where we can talk quietly, and where, you two can compare ideas. But meanwhile I want you to understand, Mr. Faversham, that the people you see here are typical of millions all over Europe who are hoping and praying for the dawn of a new day. Of course there are only a few thousands here in London, but they represent ideas that are seething in the minds of hundreds of millions."

"Mr. Brown has told me about you," said Olga. "I recognised you from his description the moment I saw you. I felt instinctively what you had thought, what you had suffered, what you had seen in visions, and what you had dreamed. I knew then that you were the prophet--the leader that we needed."

d.i.c.k gave her a quick glance, and again felt the spell of her beauty. She was like no woman he had ever seen before. Her eyes shone like stars, and they told him that this was a woman in a million. The quickly changing expressions on her face, the wondrous quality of her presence, fascinated him.

"I shall be delighted to discuss matters with you," replied d.i.c.k. "That part of your speech which I understood made me realise that we are one in aim and sympathy. If you will come to my hotel to-morrow, we can speak freely."

Olga laughed merrily. "I am afraid you do not understand, Mr. Faversham," she said. "I am a suspect; I am proscribed by your Government. A price has been placed on my head."

d.i.c.k looked at her questioningly.

"No; I am afraid I don't understand," was his reply.

"Don't you see?" and again she laughed merrily. "I am looked upon as a dangerous person. News has come to your authorities that I am a menace to society, that I am a creator of strife. First of all, I am an alien, and as an alien I am supposed to subscribe to certain regulations and laws. But I do not subscribe to them. As a consequence I am wanted by the police. If you did your duty, you would try to hand me over to the authorities; you would place me under arrest."

"Are--are you a spy, then?" d.i.c.k asked.

"Of a sort, yes."

"A German?"

A look of mad pa.s.sion swept over her face.

"A German!" she cried. "Heaven forbid. No, no. I hate Germany. I hate the accursed war that Germany caused. And yet, no. The war was a necessity. The destruction of the old bad past was a necessity. And we must use the mad chaos the war has created to build a new heaven and create a new earth. What are nationalities, peoples, country boundaries, man-made laws, but the instruments of the devil to perpetuate crime, brutality, misery, devilry?"

d.i.c.k shook his head. "You go beyond me," he said. "What you say has no appeal for me."

"Ah, but it has," she cried; "that is why I want to talk with you. That is why I hail you as a comrade--yes, and more than a comrade. I have followed your career; I have read your speeches. Ah, you did not think, did you, when you spoke to the people in the grimy north of this country about better laws, better conditions--ay, and when you made them feel that all the people of every country should be one vast brotherhood--that your words were followed, eagerly followed, by a Russian girl whose heart thrilled as she read, and who longed to meet you face to face?"

"You read my speeches? You longed to see me?" gasped d.i.c.k.

"Every word I read, Mr. Faversham; but I saw, too, that you were chained by cruel tradition, that you were afraid of the natural and logical outcome of your own words. But see, we cannot talk here!" and she glanced towards the people who had come up to them, and were listening eagerly.

"Come, my friend," whispered Mr. Brown, "you are honoured beyond all other men. I never knew her speak to any man as she speaks to you. Let us go to a place where I will take you, where we can be alone. Is she not a magnificent creature, eh? Did you ever see such a divine woman?"

"I'm perfectly willing," was d.i.c.k's reply, as he watched Olga move towards the man who had acted as chairman. Truly he had never seen such a woman. Hitherto he had been struck by her intellectual powers, and by what had seemed to him the spiritual qualities of her presence. But now he felt the charm of her womanhood. She was shaped like a G.o.ddess, and carried herself with queenly grace. Every curve of her body was perfect; her every movement was instinct with a glowing, abundant life. Her complexion, too, was simply dazzling, and every feature was perfect. A sculptor would have raved about her; an artist would have given years of his life to paint her. Her eyes, too, shone like stars, and her smile was bewildering.

A few minutes later they were in the street, d.i.c.k almost like a man in a dream, Mr. John Brown plodding stolidly and steadily along, while Olga, her face almost covered, moved by his side. d.i.c.k was too excited to heed whither they were going; neither did he notice that they were being followed.

They had just turned into a narrow alley when there was a quick step behind them, and a man in a police officer's uniform laid his hand on Olga's arm and said: "You go with me, please, miss."

The girl turned towards him with flashing eyes.

"Take your hand from me," she said; "I have nothing to do with you."

"But I have something to do with you. Come, now, it's no use putting on airs. You come with me. I've been on the look out for you for a long while."

"Help her! Get rid of the man!" whispered Mr. Brown to d.i.c.k. "For G.o.d's sake do something. I've a weak heart and can do nothing."

"Now, then," persisted the policeman. "It's no use resisting, you know. If you won't come quiet, I may have to be a bit rough. And I can be rough, I can a.s.sure you!"

"Help! help!" she said hoa.r.s.ely.

She did not speak aloud, but the word appealed to d.i.c.k strongly. It was sacrilege for the police officer to place his hands on her; he remembered what she had told him, and dreaded the idea of her being arrested and thrown into prison.

"You won't, eh?" grumbled the policeman. "We'll soon settle that."

d.i.c.k saw him put his whistle to his lips, but before a sound was made, the young fellow rushed forward and instantly there was a hand-to-hand struggle. A minute later the police constable lay on the pavement, evidently stunned and unconscious, while d.i.c.k stood over him.

"Now is our chance! Come!" cried Mr. Brown, and with a speed of which d.i.c.k thought him incapable, he led the way through a network of narrow streets and alleys, while he and the girl followed. A little later they had entered a house by a back way, and the door closed behind them.

"Thank you, Faversham," panted Mr. Brown. "That was a narrow squeak, eh?"

He switched on a light as he spoke, and d.i.c.k, as soon as his eyes had become accustomed to the light, found himself in a handsomely, even luxuriously, appointed room.

"Sit down, won't you?" said Olga. "Oh, you need not fear. You are safe here. I will defy all the police officers in London to trace me now. Ah! thank you, Mr. Faversham! But for you I might have been in an awkward position. It would have been horrible to have been arrested--more horrible still to be tried in one of your law courts."

"That was nothing," protested d.i.c.k. "Of course I could not stand by and see the fellow----"

"Ah, but don't you see?" she interrupted merrily. "You have placed yourself in opposition to the law? I am afraid you would be found equally guilty with me, if we were tried together. Did I not tell you? There is a price on my head. I am spoken of as the most dangerous person in London. And you have helped me to escape; you have defeated the ends of justice."

"But that is nothing," cried Mr. John Brown. "Of course, Mr. Faversham is with us now. It could not be otherwise."

Every event of the night had been somewhat unreal to d.i.c.k, but the reality of his position was by no means obscure at that moment. He, d.i.c.k Faversham, who, when he had advocated his most advanced theories, had still prided himself on being guided by const.i.tutional methods, knew that he had placed himself in a most awkward position by what he had done. Doubtless, efforts would be made to find him, and if he were discovered and recognised, he would have a very lame defence. In spite of the honeyed way in which Mr. Brown had spoken, too, he felt there was something like a threat in his words.

But he cast everything like fear from his mind, and turned to the young girl, who had thrown off her cloak, and stood there in the brilliant light like the very incarnation of splendid beauty.

"I would risk more than that for this opportunity of talking with you," he could not help saying.

"Would you?" and her glorious eyes flashed into his. "I am so glad of that. Do you know why? Directly I saw you to-night, I felt that we should be together in the greatest cause the world has ever known. Do you think you will like me as a co-worker? Do you believe our hearts will beat in unison?"

Again she had cast a spell upon him. He felt that with such a woman he could do anything--dare anything.

Still, he kept a cool head. His experiences of the last few years had made him wary, critical, suspicious.

"I am going to be frank," she went on. "I am going to lay bare my heart to you. The cause I have at heart is the world's redemption; that, too, is the cause I believe you, too, have at heart. I want to destroy poverty, crime, misery; I want a new earth. So do you. But the way is dangerous, stormy, and hard. There will be bleeding footsteps all along the track. But you and I together!--ah, don't you see?"

"I am afraid I don't," replied d.i.c.k. "Tell me, will you?"

She drew her chair closer to him. "Yes; I will tell you," she said in a whisper.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE SO-CALLED DEAD.

"Don't be frightened at a word," she laughed. "I shall explain that word in a few minutes. But it will not need much explanation. At heart you and I are one."

d.i.c.k waited in silence.

"You do not help me," and her laugh was almost nervous. "And yet--oh, I mean so much. But I am afraid to put it into a word, because that word has been so misunderstood, so maligned. It is the greatest word in the world. It sweeps down unnatural barriers, petty creeds, distinctions, man-made laws, criminal usages. It is the dawn of a new day. It is the sunrise. It is universal liberty, universal right. It is the divine right of the People!"

Still d.i.c.k was silent, and as she watched him she started to her feet.

"Who have held the destinies of the great unnumbered millions in the hollow of their hands?" she cried pa.s.sionately. "The few. The Emperors, the Kings, the Bureaucrats. And they have sucked the life blood of these dumb, suffering millions. They have crushed them, persecuted them, made them hewers of wood and drawers of water. Why have the poor lived? That they might minister to the rich. Just that and nothing more. Whether the millions have been called slaves, serfs, working cla.s.ses--whatever you like--the result has been the same. They have existed that the few might have what they desired. But at last the world has revolted. The Great War has made everything possible. The world is fluid, and the events of life will be turned into new channels. Now is the opportunity of the People. Whatever G.o.d there is, He made the world and all that is in it for the People. In the past it has been robbed from them, but now it is going to be theirs! Don't you see?"

d.i.c.k nodded his head slowly. This, making allowance for the extravagance of her words, was what he had been feeling for a long time.

"Yes," he said presently; "but how are they to get it?"

"Ah!" she laughed. "I brought you here to-night to tell you. You are going to give it them, my friend. With me to help you, perhaps, if you will have me. Will you? Look into my eyes and tell me that you see--that you understand?"

Her eyes were as the eyes of a siren, but still d.i.c.k did not lose his head.

"I see no other way of giving the people justice than by working on the lines I have been trying to work for years," he said.

"Yes, you do," she cried triumphantly. "You are a Labour man--a Socialist if you like. You have a vision of better conditions for the working cla.s.ses in England--the British Isles. But what is that? What does it all amount to? Sticking-plasters, mon ami--sticking-plasters."

"Still, I do not understand," replied d.i.c.k.

"But you do," she persisted, still with her great, l.u.s.trous eyes laughing into his, in spite of a certain seriousness shining from them. "Think a minute. Here we are at a crisis in the world's history. Unless a mighty effort is made now, power, property, everything will drift back to the old ruling cla.s.ses, and that will mean what it has always meant. Still the same accursed anomalies; still the same blinding, numbing, crushing poverty on the one hand; still the same pampered luxury and criminal waste on the other. All things must be new, my friend--new!"

"But how?"

"In one word--Bolshevism. No; don't be startled. Not the miserable caricature, the horrible nightmare which has frightened the dull-minded British but a glorious thing! Justice for humanity, the world for the people! That's what it means. Not for one country, but for all the countries--for the wide world. Don't you see? The world must become one, because humanity is one. It must be. Disease in any part of the organism hurts the whole body. If wrong is done in Russia, England has to pay; therefore, all reform must be world wide; right must be done everywhere."

"Words, words, words," quoted d.i.c.k.

"And more than words, my friend. The most glorious ideal the world has ever known. And every ideal is an unborn event."

"Beautiful as a dream, but, still, words," persisted d.i.c.k.

"And why, my friend?"

"Because power cannot be wrested from the hands in which it is now vested----"

"That is where you are mistaken. Think of Russia."

"Yes; think of Russia," replied d.i.c.k--"a nightmare, a ghastly crime, h.e.l.l upon earth."

"And I reply in your own language, 'Words, words, words.' My friend, you cannot wash away abuses h.o.a.ry with age with rose water. Stern work needs stern methods. Our Russian comrades are taking the only way which will lead to the Promised Land. Do not judge Russia by what it seems to-day, but by what it will be when you and I are old. Already there are patches of blue in the sky. In a few years from now things will have settled down, and Russia, with all its wealth and all its possibilities, will belong to the people--the great people of Russia. That is what must be true of every nation. You talk of the great wealth of European countries, and of America. Who holds that wealth? Just a few thousands--whereas it should be in the hands of all--all."

"And how will you do this mighty thing?" laughed d.i.c.k.

"By the people not simply demanding, but taking their rights--taking it, my friend."

"By force?"

"Certainly by force. It is their right."

"But how?"

"Think, my friend. Do you believe the people will ever get their rights by what is called const.i.tutional means? Do you think the landed proprietors will give up their lands? That the Capitalists will disgorge their millions? That the bourgeoisie will let go what they have squeezed from the sweat and toil of the millions? You know they will not. There is but one way all over the world. It is for the people everywhere to claim, to force, their rights."

"Revolution!"

"Yes, Revolution. Do not be afraid of the word."

"Crime, anarchy, blood, ruin, the abolition of all law and order!"

"What is called crime and anarchy to-day will be hailed a few years hence as the gospel which has saved the world."

d.i.c.k could not help being influenced by her words. There was an intellectual quality in her presence which broke down his prejudices, a spiritual dynamic in her beauty and her earnestness which half convinced him.

"Admitting what you say," he replied presently, "you only proclaim a will-o'-the-wisp. Before such a movement could be set on foot, you must have the whole people with you. You must have a great consensus of opinion. To do this you must educate the people. Then you must have a tremendous organisation. You would have to arm the people. And you would need leaders."

She laughed gaily. "Now we are getting near it," she cried. "You've seen the vision. You've been seeing it, proclaiming it, unknowingly, for years, but you've not dared to be obedient to your vision. But you will, my friend. You will."

She placed her hand on his arm, and looked half beseechingly, half coyly, into his face.

"Do you not see with me?" she cried. "Could you not join with me in a great crusade for the salvation of the world? For I can be a faithful comrade--faithful to death. Look into my eyes and tell me."

Again he looked into her eyes, and he saw as she saw, felt as she felt. His past life, his past work, seemed but as a mockery, while the vision she caused him to see was like a glimpse of Paradise. Even yet, however, a kind of hard, Saxon, common sense remained with him; and she appeared to realise it, for, still keeping her hand upon his arm, she continued her appeal. She told him what she had seen and heard, and tried to prove to him how impossible it was for the poor to have their rights save by rising in their millions, seizing the helm of power, and claiming, taking, their own. Still he was not altogether convinced.

"You describe a beautiful dream," he said, "but, like all beautiful dreams, it vanishes when brought into contact with hard realities. What you speak of is only mob rule, and mob rule is chaos. To achieve anything you must have leaders, and when you get your leaders, you simply replace one set of rulers by another."

"Of course we do," was her answer. "But with this difference. The present leaders are the result of an old bad system of selfish greed. They think and act for themselves instead of for the good of the people. But, with you as a leader, we should have a man who thinks only of leading the children of the world into Light."

"I?--I?" stammered d.i.c.k.

"Of course, you, my friend. Else why should I long to see you, speak with you, know you?"

"Of course it's madness," he protested.