The Shadow of the Czar Part 34

The act of speaking brought a rush of blood to his mouth, and ere he could finish the strange utterance, he was gone.

"Jesu Maria, he's dead!" murmured Katina in awe; and then, her mood changing, she added with a wild laugh, "Russakoff has earned his roubles."

The whole affair had happened so quickly that it was almost impossible to believe in its reality, though the dead form of Trevisa lay there before their eyes. For fully half a minute Paul stared helplessly at the silent figure. Amazement--grief--horror kept him mute and motionless; then in a moment these feelings gave way to the wild desire for vengeance.

"I'll find the a.s.sa.s.sin," he muttered, springing from the troika, "and sabre him on the spot, though I die the next moment for it."

"Would you go back among those wolves?" cried Katina. "No, no; they will kill you too." She also sprang from the troika, and held Paul by the wrist. "Indeed you shall not go. Leave the a.s.sa.s.sin to Zabern.

Zabern will find him. And thank heaven, here is the marshal!"

As she spoke the clatter of horse-hoofs was heard, and turning in the direction of the sound, Paul saw a troop of lancers approaching with Zabern at their head.

On nearing the troika the marshal halted his men, saluted Paul with his sword, and then eying the crowd that was still impotently yelling in the distance, he said,--

"In the fiend's name, what possessed you three to drive through Russograd on such a night as this?"

His eye now caught sight of the limp appearance presented by the silent form reclining on the troika. He sprang from his horse with consternation written on his face.

"Good G.o.d! don't say that Trevisa is dead!--Trevisa, whom I hoped to see fighting under the banner of the princess! Dead!" he muttered under his breath, "and just as he was on the point of deciphering the secret despatch, too!"

"He is dead," said Paul; "but this is no time for words. The a.s.sa.s.sin is among yon crowd, and his name is Ivan Russakoff."

The name of the spy acted like magic upon Zabern. He shouted some order, and in a moment more ten uhlans trotting forward with couched lances scattered the crowd; the object of these troopers was to secure the Troitzka Gate, and so prevent the a.s.sa.s.sin from making his escape by this exit. Like precautions were promptly taken with the rest of the city gates. The remainder of his forces Zabern skilfully disposed around the suburb of Russograd, forming them into a cordon through which no one could break without detection.

Meanwhile, in answer to his summons, fresh detachments of troops arrived together with a numerous corps of police; and to both he briefly explained the object of the muster.

Zabern was well aware that, owing to the hostility with which Polish authority was viewed in this quarter, he would have considerable difficulty in inducing the Muscovites to surrender the spy, whose act in slaying a government official would be certain to enlist their sympathies. Every dweller in Russograd would take a pride in concealing the felon. Hence the marshal was necessitated to make his arrangements with almost the same care as if conducting a siege. For a few hours Russograd was to become subject to martial law,--no new experience for this riotous faubourg.

"Remember, Russakoff must be taken alive; his dead body is of no use to me," said Zabern. "But as to the rest, don't hesitate to shoot if there should be any resistance. Nikita," he added, addressing his orderly, "dismount, and a.s.sist Katina in conveying the body to the palace. Captain Woodville, here is a horse at your service. You will accompany us?"

Zabern's elaborate precautions failed to secure the person of the spy.

Though all the streets of Russograd were traversed by the military, and every individual subjected to scrutiny; though private dwelling and public building were explored by keen-eyed police; and though the marshal and his staff formed a sort of inquisitorial tribunal and interrogated and cross-examined during the whole night, yet no one answering to the description of Russakoff could be found.

Still the marshal continued the search, encouraged by the statement alike of the sentinels at the city gates as of the members composing the military cordon, that the spy had not pa.s.sed outwards.

"So, Nariskin," he said at seven next morning, and addressing a patriarchal, long-bearded individual who carried himself with some show of authority, "so, Nariskin, another government official murdered in your ghetto! A pretty guard your night-watch keep!"

Nariskin, chief of the ward council that directed the affairs of Russograd, became voluble in attesting his grief,--his indignation, his horror, that anything so--so--

"It isn't an oration that I want," said Zabern brusquely, "but the person of Russakoff. You will a.s.semble your council this morning and make two announcements: first, that henceforth Russograd shall cease to do its own policing; that shall be my care. And, secondly, that unless the spy is surrendered before six this evening Russograd shall pay a fine of fifty thousand roubles."

Nariskin protested by Saint Vladimir that there was not so much money in all Russograd, but the marshal turned contemptuously away.

"It's useless," he said to Paul, "to search longer for a fugitive whom a whole people are bent on concealing."

In gloomy mood he gave orders for the withdrawal of the soldiery from Russograd. The military cordon, however, was still maintained, and fresh injunctions were issued to exercise strict supervision over every person pa.s.sing outwards.

Paul accompanied Zabern at his request to the Vistula Palace, and entered the apartments lately tenanted by Trevisa.

Beneath a catafalque of black velvet, surrounded by lighted tapers set in tall silver candlesticks, reposed the body of Trevisa, his hands folded across his breast, and holding within them lilies placed there by Katina.

"A sad fatality!" murmured Zabern, his somewhat grim and hard nature touched by Trevisa's early and mournful ending. "A sad fatality! And partly of my own causing, too!"

"How so?"

"The cipher-despatch which I entrusted to his care has occasioned his death."

"You mean that he was a.s.sa.s.sinated in order to prevent him from deciphering it?"

"Precisely. The duke hesitates at nothing to conceal his treason."

"What proof have you of his complicity in this affair?"

"Actual proof--none, else would the headsman be now putting edge to his axe. But here are matters that have a suspicious aspect. Not till yester-morn did the duke learn that Russakoff was a prisoner in the Citadel, and that Trevisa was occupied with the doc.u.ment found on the spy. I did my best to keep the affair a secret, but our premier, unthinkingly, revealed it; and, according to him, the duke, on hearing of Russakoff's imprisonment, looked ill at ease. Why, unless the matter concerned him? Subsequently the duke paid a visit to the Citadel--in his official capacity, of course; but, mark the result!

Two hours afterwards Russakoff's cell was found empty. How? Great is the power of the rouble-note!"

"Why, then, send the duke to the Citadel, since the itching palm that opened the gate for Russakoff may do the like for Bora?"

"I have thought of that, and therefore I have appointed some of my own troopers--fellows whom I can trust--to be the duke's jailers. But to return to the cipher letter," continued Zabern, in a tone of profound dejection. "It still keeps its secret. And Trevisa had just hit on the clue! Did he speak of the matter at all on the way to Slavowitz? Did he give you any hint?"

"None."

But scarcely had Paul given this reply than he started, as he suddenly recalled Trevisa's dying utterance.

"Marshal, I believe he tried to make a communication to me in his last moment. His words were 'Remember the furies!'"

"Pa.s.sing strange! what meaning can there be in that?"

The two men puzzled themselves to no purpose over the singular saying.

"That cipher letter," said Zabern, reflectively, "was perhaps the last thing in Trevisa's mind. With that sudden intuition which sometimes belongs to the dying, he recognized why he had been a.s.sa.s.sinated, and tried to give you a clue. 'Remember the furies!' Humph! here's an enigma indeed!"

He paced the apartment gloomily, while Paul, looking down upon the face of his dead friend, breathed a silent prayer for justice upon all who had part in the cruel deed.

"The interpretation of that cipher letter," said Zabern, "would enable us to defeat Russia's secret scheme for the subversion of Czernova; but alas! where shall we look for the interpreter?"

"Give me the letter," said Paul with a sudden impulse, "and let me try my wits upon it. I am not altogether ignorant of cryptography; it was Trevisa's favorite pursuit when we were at college. He sought to interest me in it, and I remember something of his methods."

There was at first some hesitancy on the part of Zabern. Was it wise to trust such a weighty matter to one who owed no allegiance to the Czernovese government?

Paul understood the scruples of the other.

"You may trust me; or if not, I will take whatever oath you wish. My sole desire is to serve your beautiful princess."

Zabern's opposition vanished.

"You shall have the letter," he replied. "You defeated Russia's aim in the East; now defeat her aim in the West. But, if you are like me, you must feel the need of a little sleep. There is a bed in the next apartment. Sleep for an hour or two, and rise fresh for the work."