The Price of Power Part 22

"If you will disa.s.sociate yourself from these dastardly actions," he said.

"Ah!" sighed the other in despair, "that is impossible. The General holds me always to the compact I made with him. But I beg of you to be warned," he added. "Her Highness is daily in gravest peril!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

INCOGNITA!

Shortly after eleven o'clock that same evening I was strolling with Hartwig up and down the deserted platform at Victoria Station, my intention being to take the eleven-fifty p.m. train back to Brighton.

For a full hour we had pressed the informer to explain the real reason of his visit to Brighton on the previous day. But beyond a.s.suring us that it was not with any evil intent--which I confess we could scarcely believe--he declined to reveal anything.

He only repeated his warning that Natalia was in grave personal danger, and entreated me to be careful. The refugees in that house, all of them Russians, seemed filled with intense curiosity regarding us, and especially so, perhaps, because of Hartwig's declaration that he was bearer of a message from that mysterious leader who was believed to live somewhere in Moscow, and was known throughout the Russian Empire as "The ONE."

No doubt after our departure Danilovitch had told them of some secret message he had received from the mysterious head of the organisation, who was none other than himself.

But his confession had held both of us practically silent ever since we had left that dingy house in Lower Clapton.

"Markoff believes that Her Highness is aware of the contents of those letters," Hartwig said as we strolled together in the great, well-lit station. Few people were about just at that hour, for the suburban theatre-goers had not yet arrived. "For that reason it is intended that her mouth shall be closed."

"But this is murder!" I cried in hot indignation. "I will go straight to the Emperor, and tell him."

"And what benefit would that be? His Majesty would declare it to be an effort by some of the General's enemies to disgrace him," my companion said. "Such d.a.m.ning statements have been made before, but, alas! no heed has been taken of them!"

"But His Majesty shall hear--and he shall take notice! I will demand in inquiry into the arrest and exile of Madame de Rosen."

"I thought you told me that you had already mentioned her name to His Majesty," Hartwig said quietly.

I had forgotten. Yes. His words recalled to me my effort on her behalf, and the futility of my appeal. I sighed, and bit my lip. The two innocent ladies were on their way to that far-off dreaded penal settlement of Yakutsk. From the time which had elapsed since their arrest I calculated that they were already in Siberia, trudging that long, never-ending post road--that wide, deeply-rutted track which runs across those boundless plains between Tobolsk and Tomsk--on the first stage of their terrible journey of over six thousand miles on foot.

A sudden suggestion flashed across my mind. Should I follow, overtake them and hear the truth from Marya de Rosen's lips?

Yet before doing so I should be compelled to apply for a pa.s.sport and permits at the Ministry of the Interior at Petersburg. If I did this, Markoff would at once suspect my intention, for travellers do not go to Siberia for pleasure. And if he suspected my intention a way would quickly be found by which, when I arrived at my destination, neither of the ladies would be alive. In Siberia, where there is neither law nor inquiry, it was, I knew, very easy to close the lips of any person whose existence might be prejudicial to the authorities. A word from General Markoff, and an accident would certainly occur.

No. I realised that to relax my vigilance over the safety of Natalia at that moment would be most injudicious. Besides, was not Natalia herself aware of the contents of the letters? If not, why had her enemies made the firm determination that she should meet with a sudden and mysterious end?

I mentioned to my companion my inclination to travel across Siberia in search of the exiles; but he only shook his head gravely, saying:

"You are, no doubt, under very close observation. Even if you went, you might, by so doing, place yourself in grave personal peril. Remember, Markoff is desperate. The contents of those letters, whatever they may be, are evidently so d.a.m.ning that he cannot afford exposure. The pains he took to secure them, and to send Madame de Rosen into exile, plainly show this. No," he added, "the most judicious plan is to remain here, near Her Highness, and watch Markoff's operations."

"If Her Highness would only reveal to me the secret of those letters, then we should be in a position to defy Markoff and reveal him before the Emperor in his true light," I said.

"She has refused--eh?"

"Yes. I have questioned her a dozen times, but always with the same result," was my answer.

"But will she refuse, if she knows that her father's tragic end was due to the wild desire of Markoff to close her lips?"

"Yes. I have already pointed that out to her. Her reply is that what she learnt was in confidence. It is her friend's secret, and she cannot betray it. She is the very soul of honour. Her word is her bond."

"You will tell her now of Danilovitch's confession; how the letters were stolen and handed back to the General by the man whom he holds so completely in his power?" Hartwig said.

"I shall. But I fear it will make no difference. She is, of course, eager to expose the General to the Emperor and effect his downfall. She is fully aware of his corrupt and brutal maladministration of the department of Political Police, of the bogus plots, and the wholesale deportment of thousands of innocent persons. But it seems that she gave a pledge of secrecy to poor madame, and that pledge she refuses to break at any cost. `It is Marya's secret,' she told me, `not mine.'"

As we were speaking, a tall, straight, good-looking young man in crush-hat and black overcoat over his dinner-clothes had strolled along the platform awaiting the train.

My eyes caught his features as he went, when suddenly I recognised in the young man Richard Drury, whom Her Highness had told me she had known in her school-days at Eastbourne. I glanced after him and watched his figure retreating leisurely as he smoked a cigarette until he came beneath a lamp where he halted. Then, producing an evening paper, he commenced to while away the time by reading. He was evidently returning to Brighton by my train.

Apparently the young fellow had not recognised me as Miss Gottorp's companion of the previous night, therefore standing near, I had an opportunity of examining him well. He was certainly a typical specimen of the keen, clean-shaven young Englishman, a man who showed good-breeding, and whose easy air was that of the gentleman.

Yet I confess that what Her Highness had revealed to me both alarmed and annoyed me. Madcap that she was, I knew not what folly she might commit. Nevertheless, after all, so long as she preserved her _incognito_ no great harm would be done. It was hard upon her to deny her the least suspicion of flirtation, especially with one whom she had known in the days before she had put up her hair and put on her ankle-frocks.

Hartwig and I were undecided what our next move should be, and we were discussing it. One fact was plain, that in view of the a.s.sertion of Danilovitch, I would now be compelled to keep constant watch over the skittish young lady whom the Emperor had given into my charge. My idea of following and overtaking Madame de Rosen in Siberia was out of all question.

"Are you remaining long in London?" I asked the police official, just as I was about to step into the train.

"Who knows?" he laughed. "I am at the `Savoy.' The Emba.s.sy is unaware I am in England. But I move quickly, as you know. Perhaps to-morrow I may have to return to Petersburg. _Au revoir_."

And I wished him adieu, and got into an empty first-cla.s.s compartment just as the train was moving from the platform.

I sat in the corner of the carriage full of grave and apprehensive thoughts.

That strange suspicion which the Emperor had revealed to me on the afternoon before the last Court ball recurred to me. I held my breath as a sudden idea flashed across my brain. Had it any connection with this foul but cunningly-conceived plot to kill an innocent girl whose only offence was that she was in possession of certain information which, if revealed, would, I presumed, cause the downfall of that camarilla surrounding the Emperor?

The thought held me in wonder.

Ah! if only the Emperor would listen to the truth--if only he would view Markoff and his friends in their true character! But I knew, alas! that such development of the situation was impossible. Russia, and with her the Imperial Court, was being terrorised by these desperate attempts to a.s.sa.s.sinate the Emperor. Hence His Majesty relied upon Markoff for the safety of the dynasty. He looked upon him as a marvel of astuteness and cunning, as indeed he was. But, alas! the burly, grave-eyed man who led a life haunted by the hourly fear of death--an existence in armoured rooms and armoured trains, and surrounded by guards whom he even grew to suspect--was in ignorance that the greater part of the evidence of conspiracies, incriminating correspondence and secret proclamations put before him had been actually manufactured by Markoff himself!

At last, after an hour, the express ran slowly into the Brighton terminus, and as it did so, I caught sight of a figure waiting upon the platform, which caused me to quickly draw back. The figure was that of a young girl neatly dressed in black with a small black hat, and though she wore a veil of spotted net I recognised her at once as Natalia! She was smiling and waving her tiny black-gloved hand to someone. In an instant I knew the truth. She was there, even though it were past one o'clock in the morning, to meet her lover, Richard Drury.

I saw him spring out, raise his hat and shake her hand warmly, and then, taking care not to be seen, I followed them out as they walked side by side down the hill in the direction of King's Road.

This action of hers showed her recklessness and lack of discretion.

Apparently she had walked all the way from Hove in order to meet him, and as they strolled together along the dark, deserted road he was evidently explaining something to her, while she listened very attentively.

Surely it was unsafe for her to go forth like that! I was surprised that Miss West allowed it. But, in all probability that worthy lady was in bed, and asleep, all unconscious of her charge's escapade.

I had not followed very far before I became aware of a footstep behind me, and, turning, I saw a small, insignificant-looking man in dark clothes, who came quickly up to me. It was one of the police-agents employed at the house in Brunswick Square.

"Well, Dmitri!" I exclaimed in a low voice in French. "So you are looking after your young mistress--eh?" I asked, with a laugh, pausing to speak with him in order to allow the lovers to get further off.

"Yes, m'sieur," replied the man in a tone of distinct annoyance.

"This is hardly wise of Her Highness," I said. "This is not the hour to go out for a stroll."

"No, m'sieur," replied the shrewd agent of police, who had been for years employed at the palace of the late Grand Duke Nicholas in Petersburg. "I tell you I do not think it either safe or proper. These constant meetings must result in scandal."

"Who is that young man?" I asked quickly. "You have made inquiry, no doubt?"