enter to wish her a final adieu. Having opened the doorhalf-way I heard voices, which caused me to halt. Vera was seated uponan ottoman, her elbows upon her knees in an attitude of dejection.Before her, with his hands thrust deep in his capacious pockets, stood awell-made athletic young fellow, who, though his back was burned towardsme, had the air of a military officer. Apparently he had assumed acommanding demeanour, for he was bending over her, speaking rapidly in alanguage I did not understand, while she was appealing to him to desist.
I had already bade her adieu, and as neither noticed me I passed downthe staircase and out into the street, the thick pile of the carpetpreventing my footsteps being heard.
In my drive to the station I was greatly perplexed over this incident,wondering who the man could be. Evidently he was a Russian, and hadjust arrived or was on the point of departing on a journey, for he worea long travelling ulster and soft felt hat. From Vera's dispiritedmanner it appeared as if he were giving some directions which werehateful to her, and which she was vainly resisting.
I somehow felt certain, too, that he had pronounced my name; and atmention of it she shrank as if in fear. It seemed very much as if thisman, as well as her uncle, exercised some power over her, and during mylong night journey I tried to account for the stranger's presence.
After all, it might be nothing, I thought at last; and perhaps thegreen-eyed monster had arisen within me and distorted, as it often does,what would otherwise have seemed a very commonplace occurrence.
On the third evening after leaving Genoa I arrived at Charing Cross,having travelled incessantly by the Mont Cenis route without breakingthe journey at Paris. It was impossible for me to go to Russia withouta passport, therefore I was compelled to return to London and obtainone. At first I was troubled by this, the time of my arrival beinglimited to three weeks; but afterwards, finding the journey from Italyto the Russian capital was much more circuitous than from London, I madethe best of it, feeling certain I should be able to deliver the jewelswithin the time stipulated by the woman who had enchanted me.
On my arrival I drove at once to my rooms and sought the rest of which Iwas so sorely in need, afterwards setting about packing a few additionalnecessaries for my journey. For three days, however, I was obliged toremain in London before I could obtain my passport, and though impatientto set out, I passed the time as best I could.
The evening of the second day I met Nugent at the Club.
He expressed the greatest surprise at meeting me, yet I did not informhim of the journey I had undertaken, but led him to believe that my lifeat Genoa had become unbearable after he had left, and that on thefollowing day I contemplated returning to Paris for a few weeks.
We dined together and afterwards went to the Alhambra, but only once didhe refer to Vera.
It was after the ballet, when we were taking cigarettes and coffee.
"By the way," he said suddenly, a mischievous smile lighting up hisgenial face, "what progress did you make with _la belle_ Seroff? Youhave not spoken of her."
I did not care to be questioned upon this matter, so appeared to treatit as a joke.
"Ah?" I replied, "it was a mere flirtation. Why, really, Bob, oldchap, I believe you regarded that little affair seriously," I said,laughing.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, saying, "You guessed aright. I thoughtyou were in love with her; but am glad to hear such is not the case."
"Why?" I asked, in surprise, for had he not hinted more than once thatshe would make me a charming wife?
"No reason, no reason," he replied evasively; "simply because I'vealtered the opinion I once held regarding her."
I requested no further explanation, for the bell was ringing, denotingthat the curtain had risen, and we returned to our stalls.
Could he have seen or heard anything to cause him to utter this vaguewarning? I asked myself. No, surely not; yet it was strange, to saythe least.
Having obtained my passport properly vised by the Russian Consul, on theevening following I entered a first-class compartment of theQueenborough express at Victoria, and, settling myself, commenced theinitial stage of my long journey across Europe. As the train spedonward through the Kentish hop-gardens, I sat watching the September sunchange from gold to purple, and eventually disappear behind the darknight-clouds. Safely stowed away in my valise was the jewel-case; but Ihad already devised a plan whereby it would escape the prying_douaniers_--the same by which I had brought it from Italy unopened,viz, to place it in the capacious pockets of my travelling coat, andhang that garment upon my arm during the examination of the baggage.
I was alone in the carriage, but by reading the newspapers with which Ihad provided myself, managed to wile away the two hours' journey to thesea.
With relief I alighted at Queenborough Pier, and embarked upon theFlushing steamer, for here I knew the sensation of loneliness wouldquickly disappear. The whirr of the steam crane, hubbub and noise,mingled with disconsolate comments in English and staccato sounds inFrench, soon ceased, and very quickly the vessel had set her headtowards the Dutch coast.
At seven we landed, and an hour later I had commenced a several days'journey by rail across the continent, the terrible monotony of which isknown only to those who have accomplished it. Cramped up in a_coupe-lit_ for a day and night is sufficient to tire most persons, buta continuance of that sort of thing is the reverse of enjoyable.
Both at Flushing and Kaldenkirchen I contrived to smuggle the jewelsthrough the _douane_, and with a honeymooning couple and a voluble oldFrenchman as fellow-passengers, I travelled onward through Duisburg,Oberhausen, and Hanover, arriving at Berlin early on the third morningafter leaving London.
Here I decided to break the journey for a day, having traversed half thedistance, and after seeking repose at a hotel, strolled through the cityto stretch my legs. That evening I passed wandering alone through theprincipal thoroughfares, and lounging in several beer gardens, returningto the hotel shortly before midnight, and resuming my eastward journeythe following morning.
With scarcely any interesting scenery, it was a wearying monotony enoughthroughout the day, but when night drew on and the shrieking of theengine and whirl and rattle of wheels made sleep impossible, it wasabsolutely unendurable. My French novel no longer interested me. I wasexcessively fatigued, and as I lay my aching head upon the velvetcushion of the narrow berth, watching the flickering oil-lamp, mymeditations reverted, as they constantly did, to the pleasant eveningsVera and I had spent beside the Mediterranean. Thoughts of her forwhose sake I had undertaken this journey, of her strange position, andof the service it was in my power to render her, acted as an incentive,and caused the inconveniences and fatigue of travel to appear much lessthan they would otherwise have been.
In a fortnight I hoped to have fulfilled my promise and return to her,for this enforced separation I could tolerate no longer than wasabsolutely necessary. Already I was eagerly looking forward to the timewhen I should again be at her side, for was it not my duty to be nearand to protect her whom I loved?
What might not happen during my absence? I dreaded to think.
Evidently she was in the hands of an unscrupulous villain, and myanxiety and hope was to marry her as soon as possible, and take herunder my own protection.
Like other men, I had had my flirtations, but this was my Grand Passion.I loved Vera heart and soul, passionately and purely, and wasdetermined to make her my wife without delay. As I lay there I couldnot help reflecting how little of real happiness I had known before wemet; how selfish and unsatisfactory my life had hitherto been, when mymotto was _Chacun pour soi, et Dieu pour nous tous_.
Now, all was changed. At last I had found the woman whom I believed waspredestined to become my wife; she who had fascinated me, who held mefor life or death.
Through the long night I thought only of her, puzzled over the secret ofthe old man's influence; happy and content, nevertheless, in theknowledge that ere long I should return to her, never to part.
CHAPTER NINE.
IN THE IZAK PLATZ.
Why need I refer further to the terribly wearisome journey acrossPrussia, Poland and Western Russia? Those of my readers who haveaccomplished it know well how dull, tedious and tiring it is, travellinghour after hour, day after day, through a flat, uninteresting country.
Suffice it to say, that on the fifth day after leaving London, the traincame to a standstill in the spacious station of the Russian capital.
After some difficulty I discovered the whereabouts of the HotelMichaeli, and entering a _likhac_ was driven to a small, and ratheruninviting hotel under the shadow of the gilded dome of the Izak Church.
The proprietor, a tall, black-bearded Russian, greeted me warmly inFrench, exclaiming:
"M'sieur Burgoyne, _n'est ce pas_?"
"That is my name," I replied.
"The apartments ordered for you are in readiness."
"Who ordered them?" I asked.
"M'sieur must be aware that a gentleman secured his rooms a week ago?"
"No, I did not know that arrangements had been made for my reception," Isaid.
"Will m'sieur have the kindness to sign the register before ascending?"he said, politely handing me a book and pen.
Those who have not travelled in the dominions of the Czar know nothingof the strict police regulations, the many formalities the foreigner hasto undergo, and the questions he must answer before he is allowed totake up even a temporary residence in the Venice of the North.
I wrote replies to the printed questions in the book, and, signing myname, handed it back to him, and was shown to my rooms.
Though anxious to complete my mission and return, I confess I found muchof interest. St Petersburg externally is the finest city in the world,but internally the dirtiest and most enthralled, struggling as it doesunder a police _regime_ so harsh that one can scarcely walk the streetswithout infringing some law, and attracting the attention of the spies,who everywhere abound.
I remained waiting several days for the appearance of the man to whom Iwas to deliver the diamonds, but he did not present himself, so Ioccupied myself inspecting the sights of the city. Through the churchesof Kazan, St Nicholas, and the Intercession I wandered, astounded attheir magnificence; saw a comedy at the Bolshoi, admired the statues ofPeter the Great and Souvaroff, and, perhaps the greatest novelty of all,visited that most magnificent of imperial residences, the Winter Palace.
Here occurred an incident of which at the time I thought nothing, thoughafterwards I had much cause to remember it.
Following one of the gorgeously attired servants through a labyrinth ofpicture galleries and apartments, we entered the Salle Blanche, the mostluxurious chamber of this splendid palace, with its wonderfuldecorations of white and gold, from which it derives its name. In thischamber are held those court fetes which eclipse all others in theworld, for it is here the nobility assemble to pay homage to theAutocrat of all the Russias.
Standing in the centre of the apartment, I gazed in wonderment upon itsmarvellous gilding and glittering magnificence, while the servantdescribed graphically, but parrot-like, how the receptions wereconducted, the blazing of the priceless jewels worn by the Empress, andhow the Emperor himself, the most quietly dressed amongst the gayassemblage, walked and talked with his guests.
The whiteness of the walls I was unable to understand, and being of asomewhat inquisitive nature, and desirous of ascertaining whether theywere marble or wood-panel, I rapped upon it sharply with my knuckles.
In an instant a sentry, who had been standing motionless at the door,and several servants in the Imperial livery, were at my side.
"For what reason did you tap that wall?" demanded one of the men inFrench.
I was thoroughly taken by surprise, and stammered out an apology, urgingthat I was not aware of committing any offence.
"It is an offence, and a grave one," exclaimed the servant, whom Iafterwards found was a police spy. "Visitors must not touch the wallsin that manner, and we have orders to eject those who break the law."
"Oh, very well," I replied, rather ruffled at the man's impertinence, "Ihave no desire to do anything contrary to this strange law of yours;and, moreover, I'll leave the Palace."
With these words, I turned and retraced my steps to the entrance, beingclosely followed by the sentry and the guide.
It was a very small matter and soon passed out of my mind, though itafterwards proved more serious than one would have imagined.
Life in St Petersburg was so different from any to be found in WesternEurope, that during the few days I awaited the arrival of the man towhom I was to deliver the jewels, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
In the daytime, perhaps the place which has most attraction for theforeigner is the Nevskoi Prospekt. It is the principal thoroughfare, afine broad street four versts long, with imposing houses and handsomeshops, the favourite promenade of the _haut ton_. The bustle and throngis as great as in Regent Street or the Strand on a sunny day, for theendless line of well-appointed equipages, with servants in splendidliveries, and mostly drawn by four horses, roll noiselessly over theasphalte, while upon the pavement stroll princes and generals inuniform, aides-de-camp and staff officers, merchants, mujiks, Greeks,Circassians--indeed, that heterogeneous assortment of sects and raceswhich combine to make up the population of a great city. Russian women,as a rule, are the reverse of prepossessing; but the ladies who shop inthe Nevskoi, and afterwards promenade on the English Quay, are even moreremarkable for their elegance and beauty than those one sees in the Rowor on Parisian boulevards.
As it is not my intention, however, to dilate upon Russian manners andcustoms, except for the purpose of presenting this strange drama inwhich I played a leading part, I must refrain from commenting on thethousand and one show places, the coffin shops, in the windows of whichthe grim receptacles for the dead are ticketed, and many other thingswhich strike the stranger as ludicrous and curious.
I saw them merely _pour passer le temps_, and they can be of but littleinterest in the present narrative.
Exactly three weeks had passed since I bade farewell to Vera. I hadbreakfasted, and was standing before the window looking out upon theIzak Platz, that broad square in the centre of which the column ofAlexander stands out in bold relief. Not having made up my mind whitherI should repair in search of pleasure, I was idly watching the busy,ever-changing crowd of pedestrians and vehicles, when I heard the doorbehind me open, and, turning, confronted a tall, fair-bearded man, whohad entered unannounced. He was well-dressed, and as I turned andlooked inquiringly at him, he bowed and removed his hat.
"Is it to M'sieur Frank Burgoyne I have the pleasure of speaking?" heasked politely, in very fair English.
"Quite correct," I replied.
"Allow me to present to you the _carte_ of Mademoiselle Vera Seroff, andto introduce myself. Paul Volkhovski is my name, and--er--need I tellyou the object of my visit?" he inquired, showing an even set of whiteteeth as he smiled.
"It is unnecessary," I replied, glancing at the card he took from hiswallet and handed to me. "The jewels are quite safe in that box uponthe ottoman. The seals, you will notice, are untouched."
"_Merci_," he replied, a grin of satisfaction lighting up hiscountenance as he repeated, "The jewels--ah!"
Crossing quickly to where the box lay, he took it up and examined itminutely.
"_Ha! harosho_!" he exclaimed confidently, replacing it with care.
There was something peculiar in his manner which I could not fail tonotice.
To tell the truth, I was rather disappointed in Vera's friend. I hadimagined that any friends of hers must be men with whom I could readilyassociate, whereas there was nothing beyond mere bourgeoisrespectability in Monsieur Volkhovski.
Somehow a feeling of suspicion crept over me.
It was possible some one had personated the man whom I was awaiting! Atthat moment it occurred to me that the means at my disposal to recognisehim were exceedingly slight.
"How do I know, m'sieur--if you will pardon my interrogation--that youare the person you represent yourself?" I said, regarding him keenly.
With an exclamation in Russian which I did not understand, he said, "Itis not for you to doubt! Mademoiselle Seroff asked you to bring thediamonds to me. Your commission is ended."
"I had conceived." I replied rather warmly, "that Mademoiselle'sfriends were mine. Apparently I am mistaken."
"It matters not--a mere trifle."
"At least you will give me a receipt to show that my promise has beencarried out."
"She said nothing of any receipt, and I will give none."
Evidently he was alarmed.
"Then I shall not give up the jewels--"
"Not another word! You have safely delivered them, and your commissionis ended. Go back to Mademoiselle as quickly as possible. She isexpecting you, and will explain all. You have rendered her a greatservice, and she owes you a debt of gratitude."
Walking to the door, with the sealed jewel-case carefully placed in thepocket of his fashionable dust-coat, he simply paused to add, with asevere air:
"You have been mistaken, m'sieur; you deceived yourself. I wish youadieu and a safe return." Before I could utter another word he had leftthe room.
CHAPTER TEN.
THE SPIDER'S WEB.
I gave myself up to reflection.
Vera was an enigma, it was true, yet somehow I could not bring myself torealise that she had made pretence to love me merely for the purpose ofprevailing upon me to undertake the conveyance of the jewels. Lovingher as sincerely as I did, I was loth to credit anything base of her,feeling confident she reciprocated my affection.
It must be confessed that I was bitterly disappointed in Volkhovski. Hehad not welcomed me as I
Guilty Bonds Page 7