The International Spy Part 13

CHAPTER X

THE ANSWER OF THE MIKADO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled scornfully.

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

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

"I should not remain long under arrest," was the significant answer.

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

She broke off without p.r.o.nouncing my name, and turned away.

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

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

All the way to Dalny I felt by that instinct which becomes second nature to a man of my profession that I was under surveillance.

I detected a change in the manner of my friend the train superintendent. My trifling luggage was carefully searched. In the night when I was asleep some one went through my pockets. I was able to see that even the contents of my cigarette case, which I had not opened since leaving Petersburg, had been turned out and put back again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are you going?" I shouted.

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

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

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

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

A porter s.n.a.t.c.hed the box from my hand. "Smoking is forbidden," he said roughly. "Wait till you are out again."

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

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

"Your papers," he demanded.

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

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

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

I smiled.

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

"How do I know that you are not a j.a.panese spy?"

I laughed heartily.

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

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

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

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

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

"Your cigarette has gone out, Mister."