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THE MISSION OF POUBALOV
by
FREDERICK R. BURTON
New YorkStreet & Smith, Publishers29 Rose Street
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I--Her Wedding Morning 7
II--An Explanation Suggested 15
III--An Imperfect Vision 23
IV--Clara's Search Begins 31
V--The Agent of the Czar 39
VI--Litizki at Work 47
VII--A Dangerous Man 55
VIII--In the Hands of the Enemy 63
IX--Litizki's Lesson 71
X--Corroborative Detail 78
XI--Strange Exit of Poubalov 87
XII--Litizki Breaks His Appointment 95
XIII--What Became of Litizki 103
XIV--A New Departure 111
XV--Louise Receives a Caller 119
XVI--Lizzie White 127
XVII--How Litizki Saved Miss Hilman 135
XVIII--The Key to Ivan's Prison 143
XIX--The Ghost of Poubalov 151
XX--The Little Front Room 159
XXI--What Paul Palovna Saw 167
XXII--Poubalov's Revolution 175
XXIII--At One O'clock A.M. 183
XXIV--The New Clew 191
XXV--A Stubborn Antagonist 199
XXVI--Hide and Seek 207
XXVII--Behind Closed Doors 216
XXVIII--Poubalov Succeeds 225
A WEDDING BUT RATHER LATE
CHAPTER I.
THEIR WEDDING MORNING.
Ivan pulled aside the curtain and looked up at the sky. It was as clearas crystal, as blue as the eyes of his beloved, the promise fulfilledof a perfect day. On a window cornice across the street a tiny birdperked his head toward the sun and chirped noisily. To a livelyimagination kindled by fond anticipations the twittering of the birdwould have seemed like music. So it was to Ivan. His heart respondedwith unformed melodies, and some of their stray notes found their wayhumming to his throat as he hastened his toilet.
A long process it was in spite of his haste. Every outer garment,though but yesterday brought by the tailor, had to be brushed withexquisite care, and when it came to adjusting his tie, what withfinding in the light of this beautiful morning that not one of thenumerous assortment seemed to be bright enough for the occasion, andhaving rejected all in turn, and having selected one at last that mightbe made to do, and having found the knot and loosed it--well, timehad passed, and under ordinary circumstances patience might have gonewith it. Ordinary, the circumstances were not, and if they had been Ipresume any tie could have, and would have been thrown together in ashape not less pleasing than that which finally caused him to turn fromthe mirror in cheerful despair and ring for breakfast.
Mrs. White was prompt in responding to the summons, for she had beenexpecting it with quivering anxiety for the last half hour. Good soul!With eggs at thirty-five cents a dozen she nevertheless plunged two inhot water every four minutes, in order that her lodger might not tracethe slightest sense of disappointment, on this eventful day, to her.
"I do hope his last breakfast here will be a pleasant one," she saidwhen her daughter protested against the extravagance.
There was certainly nothing in the plain breakfast to call forcriticism. Ivan might not have noticed it if there had been, for histhoughts were elsewhere, and his emotions were stirred by causes atonce more delicate and more powerful than appetite; but Mrs. White wasprobably in the right. It would have been a pity to permit any chanceof a jarring note however slight in the harmony that pervaded his being.
Ivan greeted his landlady gayly, and attacked his meal as if there wereno such thing as love in the world, love that makes man melancholy,that destroys the delights of good living, that drives him to theproduction of gloomy wails in more or less eccentric verse. Therewas no such love for him. Out of the storm and stress of an eventfulcareer, in which misfortune had rained its blows upon him with undueseverity, love had arisen like the comforting glow of a home hearthfire, and it shone upon his exile with naught in its beams but serenityand peace. Ivan was happy.
Breakfast was hardly begun when Mrs. White again appeared.
"There's a gentleman to see you, Mr. Strobel," she said hesitatingly;"I didn't like to disturb you, but he seemed very anxious, and so Isaid I would see if you were at home."
She laid a card upon the breakfast table and waited.
Ivan glanced at it and frowned. So, there must needs be a cloud uponthis day to remind him, as if he needed it! how surely the sun ofhappiness was shining for him. Alexander Poubalov! What could he bedoing in America, and what could have led him to call at just thisjuncture? Bah! there could be no significance in it, nothing but amemory of troublous experiences could be evoked by his presence,nothing connected with that past could possibly intervene now betweenhim and the new life upon which he was joyously entering.
Mrs. White was sorely distressed, for she saw that her lodger wasdisturbed, and in her motherly heart she wished that she had told thestranger below one of those white lies that have come to be regardedas not sinful in that they effect at least a postponement of evil. Shemight have said that Mr. Strobel was engaged, or that he had given uphis room a week before. Both statements would have been true enough forthe Recording Angel's book, goodness knows!
"If you had only just gone, or if he had come an hour later," shemurmured plaintively.
"Oh, there's nothing the matter," cried Ivan, lightly; "I was simplywondering what in the world he could want with me. I haven't seen himfor five years. Show him up, please."
Not half satisfied that nothing was the matter, Mrs. White obeyed,and presently Alexander Poubalov stood upon the threshold. He was adistinguished-looking man, tall, swarthy, middle-aged, a remarkablecontrast to his fair-haired fellow countryman, Ivan Strobel.
"I am indeed glad to see you, Strobel," he said, his deep tones vibrantas a church bell; "may I come in?"
"I received your card and I sent for you," replied Ivan, coldly. He hadrisen and was standing by the breakfast table.
"I shall be sorry if I have disturbed you, for I had no such purpose incalling upon you. Pray go on with your breakfast," and Poubalov took astep or two forward, as if waiting for an invitation to sit down.
"To what purpose, then, may I attribute your call?" asked Ivan, withoutstirring.
"You are in haste, my friend," replied Poubalov, smiling; "you haveprobably learned the American habit of putting business ahead of allother things; but I see, too, that there may be some especial reasonto-day for hurry. You are dressed to go out, and you have packed yourtrunks----"
"It is quite like you," interrupted Ivan, "to note every detail andattach some significanc
e of your own to it. You are right, however, onthis occasion. Time is precious with me to-day. I am to be married atnoon."
"Ah! married! Strobel," and Poubalov made as if he would extend hishand, "I wish you would permit me to congratulate you."
"It is unnecessary," responded Ivan, remaining like a statue by hischair.
Poubalov shrugged his shoulders and looked disappointed.
"As you will," he said, "and perhaps it would be as well to postpone mycall, as it seems you regard it as an unhappy intrusion."
"If you have any business other than that attending to a spy ingeneral," said Ivan, "I shall be pleased if you will dispatch it now.If, on the contrary, you still have any interest in my movements, Iwill give you my itinerary, and you can follow me if you like. I willonly suggest that we are not in Russia, and that it is not my intentionto go outside the jurisdiction of the United States."
"You need only tell me, if you have no objection," replied Poubalov,"where I may look for you some time after your wedding journey."
Ivan picked up Poubalov's card and wrote an address upon it. "I shalllive there," he said, handing the card to his caller. "I expect toreturn in two weeks."
Poubalov read the card and thoughtfully placed it in his pocketbook."If I knew how to, Strobel," he remarked gravely, "I would assure youthat you need have no anxiety on my account during your honeymoon, orafterward; but I see clearly that now, as heretofore, you will place noreliance whatever upon my words, and that you discredit my motives."
"You speak truly," said Ivan; "but we will not discuss the reasonsfor my distrust. You know them even better than I do. You may spareyourself any words. I shall not be disturbed by anxiety."
"On another occasion, then, I may hope for a somewhat extendedconversation. Good-morning. My good wishes would doubtless be repugnantto you."
Ivan bowed silently and Poubalov withdrew.
"Strange that I should be pursued after all this lapse of time, and tothis far country," thought Ivan; "but I have done right. I have nothingto fear from Poubalov or the government whose paid spy he is."
He looked at his watch, and, resuming his place at the table, hastilyswallowed a cup of coffee. Mrs. White's eggs remained unbroken.
A carriage was waiting for him at the door and it was time that heshould go, for the wedding was to take place at Rev. Dr. Merrill'slittle church in Roxbury, four miles away. With moderate driving andno accident he would be there in time to meet the bridal party at thedoor. A happy farewell to his landlady and her daughter, and he was off.
He did not notice that as his coupe turned into Somerset Street fromAshburton Place, a closed carriage left its position not far from Mrs.White's door and followed. If he had observed it he would have thoughtnothing of it, for in Boston other persons besides bridegrooms employpublic conveyances, and it is not always that a cabman is employed todrive a fare to a wedding.
Ivan's coupe rolled gently down Park Street, and just as it reached thecorner of Tremont, one of the forward wheels came off. The passengerwas precipitated forward, and the driver with difficulty kept hisseat. He climbed down in a moment, angry and bewildered. He coulddiscover no break about his vehicle, but there was the wheel upon theground, there was the body leaning forward, straining upon the shafts,disconcerting the horse----
"Open the door!" cried Ivan, imperatively; "I can't be shut up here!"
The driver got the door open after a little trouble and Ivan crawledout.
"I don't see how it happened," began the driver.
"No matter. It can't be helped in a minute, can it? I must have anotherconveyance."
A crowd was quickly gathering, and as Ivan looked around him he caughtthe eye of the driver of the closed carriage.
"Are you engaged?" called Ivan. Then, as the driver signified hiswillingness to take a fare, Ivan recoiled. The carriage looked as ifit were on the way to a funeral. He hated presentiments and despisedhimself for the momentary feeling of discomfort.
"You can pull down the curtains, sir, after you get in," said thedriver as if he had noticed his prospective passenger's discomfort."Where to, sir?" he continued with his hand on the door.
Ivan told him and with a "Hurry, please," bolted into the carriage.
The driver sprang to his seat as if his salvation depended on hisspeed, lashed his horse heavily, and the carriage fairly leaped throughthe crowd and down Tremont Street. It was a beautiful June morning andthe passenger was on his way to his own wedding, but he did not lowerthe curtains of the gloomy carriage.
* * * * *
A gentle quiver of excitement stirred the congregation that filledthe little vine-covered church on Parker Avenue as the clock tolledthe noon hour and the organist began to play softly, his fingersweaving scraps of melody into a vague but pleasing harmony like thelight that filtered through the stained glass windows. This was butthe suggestion of a coming outburst of harmony, for presently, asthe joyful procession would be ready to move, he would open all thegates of sound and flood the edifice with the triumphal strains of theWedding March, strains that seem light and music, too, to all listenersand beholders. Within the vestibule the bridal party awaited the comingof the groom. There, too, were Ivan's two friends, to do him honor bymarching with him; one a Russian like himself, the other an American.With smiling faces they all endeavored to conceal annoyance that wasspeedily turning to anxiety over Ivan's delay.
Clara Hilman, as lovely a bride as ever donned the orange-decked veil,stood with palpitating heart beside her uncle and guardian, MatthewPembroke. With awkward words he was trying to soothe what he felt mustbe her fears. All about them were pretty children dressed to follow thebride, and Clara's dearest girl friends. Within the chancel Dr. Merrillwaited, wondering a little, but not permitting himself to attach hastyblame to anybody for this embarrassing hitch in the proceedings. Theorganist looked inquiringly at the group that had found places in thechoir loft and they returned his gaze by shakes of the head.
"You are more nervous than I am, uncle," said Clara with an attempt atbravery, though her trembling lips betrayed her; "he will be here."
"There he is!" cried Ralph Harmon, one of Ivan's friends, as a carriagewas seen to turn into the avenue from a street a little way off, andcome hurrying toward the church. "Be ready to tell the organist," hewhispered to a boy who stood near.
The waiting procession fell into partial disarray as every one cranedhis or her neck to see the bridegroom step from the carriage which nowhalted at the steps. All, nearly all, could see through the open doorsas the driver dismounted and opened the door.
A shiver of disappointment passed over the wedding party. An old, bentman issued from the carriage, leaning heavily on a cane and hobbled upthe steps.
"This is stranger than Ivan's delay!" exclaimed Harmon in a whisperto his Russian colleague; "I don't believe old Dexter ever went to awedding before unless it was his own, and I never knew he was married."
"Who is he?" asked the Russian.
"Old Dexter is all I can say. He's a kind of miser and money-lendercombined, I think. I don't believe he's any friend of Ivan's."
"No. He's bowing to Mr. Pembroke."
Very ceremoniously but with a halting movement, the old man had takenoff his hat to Mr. Pembroke and passed on into the church. Mr. Pembrokehad bowed stiffly in return and then bent over his niece to speak toher.
Clara was by this time plainly disturbed. It was a quarter past thehour, and the congregation itself was getting nervous. A few personscame out into the vestibule to learn what caused the delay. Theorganist's flitting harmonies became monotonous, intolerable, and therector within the chancel was not so impatient as alarmed.
A few minutes later the organist stopped altogether. The rector joinedthe wedding party in the vestibule. Clara had been taken to a room inthe vestry by her guardian.
"If he should come now," said Mr. Pembroke, gravely, "I don't believewe could go on. The strain has been too great for Clara."
Dr
. Merrill spoke to her as only a clergyman can speak to aparishioner, and minutes dragged along.
At last when an hour had passed, and there was yet no word from Ivan,the rector dismissed the congregation, and the members of the weddingparty went homeward, wondering and sorrowful.
The Mission of Poubalov Page 1