The Price of Power Part 15

"It is formed in London, but the _coup_ is to be made at Brighton," he replied slowly and seriously, "a plot against Her Imperial Highness!"

I looked the man straight in the face, and then burst out laughing.

"You certainly do not appear to have any regard for the personal safety of your charge," he exclaimed angrily. "I have warned you. Therefore, take every precaution."

I paused for a few seconds, then I said:

"Forgive me for laughing. General Markoff. But it is really too humorous--all this transparency."

"What transparency?"

"The transparency of your attempt to terrify me," I said. "I know that the attempt made against the young lady and myself failed--and that His Imperial Highness the Grand Duke was unfortunately killed. But I do not think there will be any second attempt."

"You don't think so!" he cried quickly. "Why don't you think so?"

"For the simple reason that Danilo Danilovitch--the man who is a police-spy and at the same time responsible for plots--is just now a little too well watched."

The man's grey face dropped when I uttered the name of his catspaw. My statement, I saw, held him confounded and confused.

"I--I do not understand you," he managed to exclaim. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you surely know Danilovitch?" I said. "He is your most trusted and useful _agent-provocateur_. He is at this moment in England. I can take you now to where he is in hiding, if you wish," I added, with a smile of triumph.

"Danilovitch," he repeated, as though trying to recall the name.

"Yes," I said defiantly, standing with my hands in my trousers pockets and leaning against the table placed in the centre of the room.

"Danilovitch--the shoemaker of Kazan and murderer of Marie Garine, the poor little tailoress in Petersburg."

His face dropped. He saw that I was aware of the man's ident.i.ty.

"He is now staying with a compatriot in Blurton Road, Lower Clapton," I went on.

"I don't see why this person should interest me," he interrupted.

"But he is a conspirator. General Markoff; and I am giving you some valuable information," I said, with sarcasm.

"You are not a police officer. What can you know?"

"I know several facts which, when placed before the Revolutionary Committee--as they probably are by this time--will make matters exceedingly unpleasant for Danilo Danilovitch, and also for certain of those who have been employing him," was my quiet response.

"If this man is a dangerous revolutionist, as you allege, he cannot be arrested while in England," remarked the General, his thick grey eyebrows contracting slightly, a sign of apprehension. "This country of yours gives asylum to all the most desperate characters, and half the revolutionary plots in Europe are arranged in London."

"I do not dispute that," I said. "But I was discussing the highly interesting career of this Danilo Danilovitch. If there is any attempt upon Her Imperial Highness the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Natalia, as you fear, it will be by that individual. General. Therefore I would advise your department to keep close observation upon him. He is lodging at Number 30B, Blurton Road. And," I added, "if you should require any further particulars concerning him, I daresay I shall be in a position to furnish them."

"Why do you suspect him?"

"Because of information which has reached me--information which shows that it was his hand which launched the fatal bomb which killed the Grand Duke Nicholas. His Imperial Highness was actually killed by an agent of Secret Police! When that fact reaches the Emperor's ears there will, I expect, be searching inquiry."

"Have you actual proof of this?" he asked in a thick, hoa.r.s.e voice, his cheeks paler than before.

"Yes. Or at least my informant has. The traitor was recognised among the crowd; he was seen to throw the bomb."

General Markoff remained silent. He saw himself checkmated. His secret was out. He had intended to raise a false scare of a probable attempt at Brighton in order to terrify me, but, to his amazement, I had shown myself conversant with his methods and aware of the truth concerning the mysterious outrage in which the Grand Duke Nicholas had lost his life.

From his demeanour and the keen cunning look in his steely eyes I gathered that he was all eagerness to know the exact extent of my knowledge concerning Danilo Danilovitch.

Therefore, after some further conversation, I said boldly:

"I expect that, ere this, the Central Committee of the People's Will has learned the truth regarding their betrayer--this man to whose initiative more than half of the recent plots have been due--and how he was in the habit of furnishing your department with the lists of suspects and those chosen to carry out the outrage. But, of course, General," I added, with a bitter smile, "you would probably not know of this manufacture of plots by one in the pay of the Police Department."

"Of course not," the unscrupulous official a.s.sured me. "I surely cannot be held responsible for the action of underlings. I only act upon reports presented to me."

I smiled again.

"And yet you warn me of an outrage which is to be attempted with your connivance by this fellow Danilovitch--the very man who killed the Grand Duke--eh?"

"With my connivance!" he cried fiercely. "What do you insinuate?"

"I mean this, General Markoff," I said boldly; "that the yellow card of ident.i.ty found in Danilovitch's rooms by the girl to whom he was engaged bore your signature. That card is, I believe, already in the hands of the Revolutionary Committee!"

"I have all their names. I shall telegraph to-night ordering their immediate arrest," he cried, white with anger.

"But that will not save your _agent-provocateur_--the a.s.sa.s.sin of poor Marie Garine--from his fate. The arm of the revolutionist is a very long one, remember."

"But the arm of the Chief of Secret Police is longer--and stronger," he declared in a low, hard tone.

"The Emperor, when he learns the truth, will dispense full justice," I said very quietly. "His eyes will, ere long, be opened to the base frauds practised upon him, and the many false plots which have cost hundreds of innocent persons their lives or their liberty."

"You speak as though you were censor of the police," he exclaimed with a quick, angry look.

"I speak, General Markoff, as the friend of Russia and of her Sovereign the Emperor," I replied. "You warn me of a plot to a.s.sa.s.sinate the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Natalia. Well, I tell you frankly and openly I don't believe it. But if it be true, then I, in return, warn you that if any attempt be made by any of your dastardly hirelings, I will myself go to the Emperor and place before him proofs of the interesting career of Danilo Danilovitch. Your Excellency may be all-powerful as Chief of Secret Police," I added; "but as surely as the sun will rise to-morrow, justice will one day be done in Russia!"

And then I turned upon my heel and pa.s.sed out of the room, leaving him biting his nether lip in silence at my open defiance.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

WATCHERS IN THE NIGHT.

After Her Highness and Miss West had dined with me at the "Metropole" at Brighton on the following evening, the trusted old companion complained of headache and drove home, leaving us alone together.

Therefore we strolled forth into the moonlit night and, crossing the road, walked out along the pier. There were many persons in the hall of the hotel, but though a good many heads were turned to see "Miss Gottorp" pa.s.s in her pretty _decollete_ gown of black, trimmed with narrow silver, over which was a black satin evening cloak, probably not one noticed the undersized, insignificant, but rather well-dressed man who rose from one of the easy chairs where he had been smoking to follow us out.

Who, indeed, of that crowd would have guessed that the pretty girl by whose side I walked was an Imperial Princess, or that the man who went out so aimlessly was Oleg Lobko, the trusty agent of the Russian Criminal Police charged by the Emperor with her personal protection?

With the man following at a respectable distance, we strolled side by side upon the pier, looking back upon the fairy-like scene, the long lines of light along King's Road, and the calm sea shimmering beneath the clear moon. There were many people enjoying the cool, refreshing breezes, as there always are upon an autumn night.

A comedy was in progress in the theatre at the pierhead, and it being the _entr'acte_, many were promenading--mostly visitors taking their late vacation by the sea.

My charming little companion had been bright and cheerful all the evening, but had more than once, by clever questions, endeavoured to learn what had taken me to the Emba.s.sy on the previous night. I, however, did not deem it exactly advisable to alarm her unduly, either by telling her of my defiance of General Markoff, of my discovery of Danilo Danilovitch, or of the attempt to terrify me by the declaration that another plot was in progress.