The Red Symbol Part 16

"I will ask you this," he resumed. "If you should have any news of--her--you will send me word, at once, and in secret? Not openly; I am surrounded by spies, as we all are here! Mishka shall remain here, and accompany you to Petersburg. He will show you where and how you can leave a message that will reach me speedily and infallibly. For the present good-bye--and a swift recovery!"

He saluted me, and clanked out of the room. I heard him speaking to Mishka, who had remained on guard outside the door. A minute or two later there was a bustle in the courtyard below, whence, for some time past, had sounded the monotonous clank of a stationary motor car.

I went to the window, walking rather unsteadily, for I felt sick and dizzy after this strange and somewhat exciting interview. Two magnificent cars were in waiting, surrounded by a little crowd of officers in uniform and soldiers on guard. After a brief interval the Grand Duke came out of the hotel and entered the first car, followed by the stout rubicund officer I had seen in attendance on him at Wirballen.

A merry little man he seemed, and as he settled himself in his seat he said something which drew a laugh from the Duke. Looking down at his handsome debonnaire face, it was difficult to believe that he was anything more than a light-hearted young aristocrat, with never a care in the world. And yet I guessed then--I know now--that he was merely bluffing an antagonist in a game that he was playing for grim stakes,--nothing less than life and liberty!

Three days later I arrived, at last, in Petersburg, to find letters from England awaiting me,--one from my cousin Mary, to whom I had already written, merely telling her that I missed Anne at Berlin, and asking if she had news of her. There could be no harm in that. Anne had played her part so well that, though Jim had evidently suspected her,--I wondered now how he came to do so, though I'd have to wait a while before I could hope to ask him,--Mary, I was certain, had not the least idea that her stay with them was an episode in a kind of game of hide and seek. To her the visit was but the fulfilment of the promise made when they were school-girls together. And I guessed that Anne would keep up the deception, which was forced upon her in a way, and that she would write to Mary. She would lie to her, directly or indirectly; that was almost inevitable. But she would write, just because she loved Mary, and therefore would not willingly cause her anxiety. I was sure of that in my own mind; and I hungered for news of her; even second-hand news. But she had not written!

"I am so anxious about Anne," my cousin's letter ran. "We've had no word from her since that post-card from Calais, and I can't think why!

She has no clothes with her, to speak of, for she only took her dressing-bag; and I don't like to send her things on till I hear from her; besides, I hoped she would come back to us soon! Did you see her at Berlin?"

I put the letter aside; I could not answer it at present. Mary would receive mine from Dunaburg, and would forward me any news that might have reached her in the interval.

And meanwhile I had little to distract my mind. Things were very quiet, stagnant in fact, in Petersburg during those hot days of early summer; even the fas.h.i.+onable cafes in the Nevski Prospekt were practically deserted, doubtless because the heat, that had set in earlier than usual, had driven away such of their gay frequenters as were not detained in the city on duty.

I slept ill during those hot nights, and was usually abroad early. One lovely June morning my matutinal stroll led me,--aimlessly I thought, though who knows what subtle influences may direct our most seemingly purposeless actions, and thereby shape our destiny--along the Ismailskaia Prospekt,--which, nearly a year back, had been the scene of the a.s.sa.s.sination of De Plehve, the man who for two years had controlled Petersburg with an iron hand.

There were comparatively few people abroad, and they were work-people on their way to business, and vendors setting out their wares on the stalls that line the wide street on either side.

Suddenly a droshky dashed past, at a pace that appeared even swifter than the breakneck rate at which the Russian droshky driver loves to urge his horses along. It was evidently a private one, drawn by three horses abreast, and I glanced at it idly, as it clattered along with the noise of a fire-engine. Just as it was pa.s.sing me one of the horses slipped on the cobblestones, and came down with a crash.

There was the usual moment of confusion, as the driver objurgated vociferously, after the manner of his cla.s.s, and a man jumped out of the vehicle and ran to the horse's head.

I stood still to watch the little incident; there was no need for my a.s.sistance, for the clever little beast had already regained his footing.

Then a startling thing occurred.

A woman's voice rang out in an agonized cry, in which fear and joy were strangely blended.

"Maurice! Maurice Wynn! Help! Save me!"

On the instant the man sprang back into the droshky, and it was off again on its mad career; but in that instant I had caught a glimpse of a white face, the gleam of bright hair; and knew that it was Anne--Anne herself--who had been so near me, and was now being whirled away.

Something white fluttered on the cobblestones at my feet. I stooped and picked it up. Only a handkerchief, a tiny square of embroidered cambric, crumpled and soiled,--her handkerchief, with her initials "A. P." in the corner!

[Ill.u.s.tration: _In that instant I had caught a glimpse of a white face._ Page 102]

CHAPTER XV

AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE

With the handkerchief in my hand, I started running wildly after the fast disappearing droshky, only to fall plump into the arms of a surly gendarme, a Muscovite giant, who collared me with one hand, while he drew his revolver with the other, and brandished it as if he was minded to bash my face in with the b.u.t.t end, a playful little habit much in vogue with the Russian police.

"Let me go. I'm all right; I'm an American," I cried indignantly. "I must follow that droshky!"

It was out of sight by this time, and he grunted contemptuously. But he put up his weapon, and contented himself with hauling me off to the nearest bureau, where, in spite of my protestations, I was searched from head to foot roughly enough, and all the contents of my pockets annexed, as well as the handkerchief. Then I was unceremoniously thrust into a filthy cell, and left there, in a state of rage and humiliation that can be better imagined than described. I seemed to have been there for half a lifetime, though I found afterwards it was only about two hours, when I was fetched out, and brought before the chief of the bureau,--a pompous and truculent individual, with s.h.i.+fty bead-like eyes.

My belongings lay on the desk before him,--with the exception of my loose cash, which I never saw again.

He began to question me arrogantly, but modified his tone when I a.s.serted that I was an American citizen, resident in Petersburg as representative of an English newspaper; and reminded him that, if he dared to detain me, he would have to reckon with both the American and English authorities.

"That is all very well; but you have yet to explain how you came to be breaking the law," he retorted.

"What law have I broken?" I demanded.

"You were running away."

"I was not. I was running after a droshky."

"Why?"

"Because there was a woman in it--a lady--an Englishwoman or American, who called out to me to help her."

"Who was the woman?"

"How should I know?" I asked blandly. I remembered what Von Eckhardt had told me,--that the police had been on Anne's track for these three years past. If the peril in which she was now placed was from the revolutionists, as it must be, I could not help her by betraying her to the police.

"You say she was English or American? Why do you say so?"

"Because she called out in English: 'Help! Save me!' I heard the words distinctly, and started to run after the droshky. Wouldn't you have done the same in my place? I guess you're just the sort of man who'd be first to help beauty in distress!"

This was sarcasm and sheer insolence. I couldn't help it, he looked such a brutal little beast! But he took it as a compliment, and actually bowed and smirked, twirling his mustache and leering at me like a satyr.

"You have read me aright, Monsieur," he said quite amiably. "So this lady was beautiful?"

"Well, I can't say. I didn't really see her; the droshky drove off the very instant she called out. One of the horses had been down, and I was standing to look at it," I explained, responding diplomatically to his more friendly mood. I wanted to get clear as soon as possible, for I knew that every moment was precious. "I just saw a hat and some dark hair--"

"Dark, eh? Should you know her again?"

"I guess not. I tell you I didn't really see her face."

"How could she know you were an American?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Perhaps she can't speak any language but English."

"What is this?" He held up the handkerchief, and sniffed at it. It was faintly perfumed. How well I knew that perfume, sweet and elusive as the scent of flowers on a rainy day.

"A handkerchief. It fell at my feet, and I picked it up before I started to run."

"It is marked 'A. P.' Do you know any one with those initials?"

Those beady eyes of his were fixed on my face, watching my every expression, and I knew that his questions were dictated by some definite purpose.