The Mission of Poubalov
Page 5
CHAPTER V.
THE AGENT OF THE CZAR.
"Good-morning," said Poubalov, gutturally; "this is Madame White, Ibelieve?"
"Yes, sir," replied the landlady, impressed at once by the stranger'sdeferential manner, and believing that through him the mystery would becleared away; "won't you come in?"
"Thank you, yes. I have called to inquire for my friend Strobel."
"You are not the first, sir," said Mrs. White, opening the door to thesitting-room. "There are two here now who will be glad to see you.Miss Hilman, this is the gentleman who called on Mr. Strobel yesterdaymorning. Miss Hilman was to have married him, you know, and this isMiss Pembroke," and having thus awkwardly initiated a new scene, Mrs.White took refuge in the nearest chair.
Poubalov was as near to showing surprise as he ever permitted himselfto come, and Clara, rising impulsively, went directly to him and said:
"Then you can tell me something about Mr. Strobel, can you not?"
"I can tell you nothing," he answered gravely; "I came for informationmyself."
Clara looked into his eyes searchingly, and went back to her chairfeeling that her greatest hope had been dashed to the ground.
"I feel the awkwardness of my position, ladies," continued Poubalov(I make no attempt to suggest his dialect, which was at times almostunintelligible, as there was nothing of a humorous or trivial characterin his conversation). "Every newspaper makes me out as a possible foeto Mr. Strobel, a mysterious ogre going about seeking to destroy youngmen, and perhaps I should not blame anybody for supposing that I mighthave been concerned in preventing Mr. Strobel's marriage, but I assureyou that I was not. I did not know of his intentions until yesterdaymorning, when he told me about it himself. I am as much surprised asanybody to read of his disappearance."
Poubalov paused and with marked deliberation took out his card case.
"It was but natural," said Clara, tremulously, "that we should hopethat you could throw some light on his movements, for knowing nothingexcept that somebody had called on him unexpectedly, we could not failto attribute something significant to the visit."
"Especially," put in Mrs. White, "as the young men and I hunted thehouse over for your card and couldn't find it."
"All very natural," responded Poubalov, imperturbably, "and it was acircumstance of the utmost triviality in itself that lent color to mymysterious coming and going. You remember, Mrs. White, do you not, thatyou took my card to Mr. Strobel?"
"Yes, indeed, and he--I don't want to give offense--he didn't seemparticularly pleased to see it."
"So you told the newspaper men. I am not in the least offended. Hereis the card you took to him. I asked Mr. Strobel where I might callupon him after his wedding tour, and he wrote that address upon myown card. Of course I took it away with me." He handed the card toClara, adding: "I want you to see that I am concealing nothing, andif my voluntary return to this house did not signify anything, yoursuspicions should certainly be relieved by seeing that Strobel himselfmade a semi-appointment with me at his future home."
"I hope, Mr. Poubalov," said Clara, with her eyes upon the card, "thatyou will forgive us for cherishing any unjust suspicions. At theworst, they were vague, and everything is so confusing."
"I feel that there is nothing to forgive," began Poubalov, graciously,when Mrs. White interrupted, her mind naturally intent upon her owntrouble:
"And such horrid things as they say, too! You said you had read thepapers?"
"Yes, all of them."
"Did you read about my daughter?" and the distressed mother rose,and, taking the newspaper from Clara's lap, thrust it into his hands.Without looking at it, Poubalov answered:
"I read it."
"And what do you think of it?" cried Mrs. White, stemming a fresh floodof tears.
Poubalov's brows contracted slightly as a sign that he disapprovedforcing this question forward at the time, and with a grave glance atClara he replied:
"I do not think. I watch, ask questions, and listen."
Clara hardly knew whether to be encouraged or depressed by this answer.Unless this man were an intimate friend of Ivan, it was perhaps not tobe expected that he should see the folly of supposing for an instantthat the missing man had eloped with Lizzie White.
"Mr. Poubalov," she said, "the reports in the newspapers do not throwthe least light on this matter. I have no criticism to make on theirstatements of fact, but their conjectures of every kind are idle. Theydo not even disturb me."
Poubalov bowed as if to signify that he heard and understood.
"The cause of his disappearance," she continued after a moment, "it isyet to be found. The newspapers have not even hinted at it."
"You have an idea, then," he said, "as to the correct explanation?"
"No, not one," she answered; "I can only think of accident; but hadthere been any accident so serious as to render him unconscious andhelpless, the police would have discovered it and reported it by thistime, would they not?"
"They would if your police are nearly as efficient as those of Europeancities," said Poubalov, "and I have no doubt they are so to the extentof such emergencies as this case presents."
"Then, don't you see, the whole mystery is confined to two generalsolutions; either Mr. Strobel was seized by enemies and carried away;or he had some powerful reason for absenting himself, and disappearedvoluntarily."
The Russian was surprised and deeply impressed by the young lady'sclearness of vision, and Louise, listening with rapt attention, wassimply amazed to hear her cousin reason so calmly when every word sheuttered must have cost her pain.
"And which of these hypotheses," asked Poubalov, guardedly, "do youconsider the more probable?"
"I have no means of judging between them," replied Clara, "for I haveno fact except the disappearance to justify either one. It seems as ifthere must be some other theory, if I could only think what it is."
"There is no other," said Poubalov, "if you eliminate accident, as Ithink you properly do."
"Then I must consider what grounds there might be for supporting bothhypotheses. As I discard as utterly worthless all the suggestions inthe newspapers, I must suppose that Mr. Strobel had enemies, and thatthese enemies were powerful enough either to abduct him in broad dayon a crowded thoroughfare, or cause him such sudden fear that he feltobliged to go into hiding."
Again was Poubalov surprised, for he could not himself have reasonedmore clearly, or have stated his conclusions more concisely; but hesimply nodded gravely, expressing neither convictions or emotions.Clara wished that he would speak. She had expressed her thoughts asthey came to her there in Mrs. White's sitting room. It was thinkingaloud rather than a statement of previously formed conclusions. Nowshe saw to just what end her arguments were bringing her, and shealmost shrank from it. Summoning her utmost resolution she lookedstraight at the sombre face of the Russian and added:
"I have no knowledge of Ivan's enemies, Mr. Poubalov; isn't it possiblethat you can give some information on that phase of the case?"
"Yes, it is," replied Poubalov, without hesitation. Then he pauseda moment before he continued: "Were not the case so serious and foryou so distressing, I should feel that I must compliment you on yourunusual faculty for analyzing a situation. Far from taking offense atyour continued suspicion of me, I am really pleased."
"I have not said that I suspected you."
"You did not need to, Miss Hilman. Your reason tells you that Mr.Strobel was happy and confident of the future until suddenly onePoubalov appears before him like the ghost of past misfortunes and as aprophet of new ones."
"I assure you," interrupted Clara again, "that I did not know that youwere not an intimate friend of Mr. Strobel's; I spoke simply of naturalinferences."
"My dear young lady," said the Russian, "you were helpless in the handsof your own reason."
Clara was silent. She felt instinctively that her analysis was correctand that she was facing, if not one of Ivan's enemies, at the least aman who re
presented all that might be hostile to him; and when she hadendeavored to withdraw some of the force of her reasoning, he himselfhad held her to her conclusions and clinched them.
"It was my intention," continued Poubalov, "to learn from Mrs. Whitewho you were, that I might solicit the privilege of calling upon youand laying before you what is in my knowledge concerning Mr. Strobel,for I fear that I may----"
He stopped abruptly and looked from one to another of the wonderingladies.
"Go on, please," exclaimed Clara, now stirred by a growing agitation;"if you can give us the faintest light it would be cruel to withholdit."
"May I hope that no offense will be taken," said Poubalov, "if I saythat I planned to tell these things to you only? I will be pleased tocall at your own convenience."
"No, no!" replied Clara, rising; "I must know now. Tell me here. Mrs.White, may we step into your dining-room?"
Louise and the landlady had risen at the same moment, and Mrs. Whitesaid:
"If Miss Pembroke doesn't object, she and I will go out. Only,Mr.--sir, if you have anything to say about my daughter, I wish youwould let me hear it!"
"It was not my intention to mention her, madame," replied Poubalov.
Louise went to Clara's side and kissed her.
"You are so brave, dear!" she said.
Clara gave Louise a grateful look as she and Mrs. White withdrew, andturned expectantly to the Russian.
"Pray sit down, Miss Hilman," he said; "what I have to say may not beas important and useful to you as you hope, but I preferred, and withgood reason, as I think you will see, to discuss the matter with youalone. It was on my tongue to say that I may have been innocently apart of the cause that sent Mr. Strobel into hiding."
"Yes," whispered Clara, eagerly; "go on!"
"Miss Hilman, I am an agent of the czar."
Poubalov paused as if he expected this announcement to disturb, orotherwise impress his listener seriously, but she merely lookedstraight at him, as she did when he began to speak.
"Strobel knew me in that capacity," he continued, "years ago when wewere in Russia. Has he ever told you about his life there?"
"A little," replied Clara, very doubtful how much she ought to revealto this man who represented the autocratic, relentless power that haddestroyed the fortune of the Strobel family and made Ivan himself anexile.
"You find it difficult to be frank with me," said Poubalov, "and I amnot surprised, but you must remember that I am setting the example.It is quite the habit of thoughtless persons to apply an opprobriousepithet to my occupation and call me a spy. Well, then, I, AlexanderPoubalov, spy, paid by the government of Russia, tell you who I am, andtell you that at one time Ivan Strobel had reason to fear me."
The door bell rang while Poubalov was speaking and Clara heard Mrs.White pattering through the hall to answer it.
The man at the door was known to the landlady as Strobel's tailor, anundersized, forlorn-looking man who seemed always to be struggling withsecret woe. She knew that Strobel had been kind to him, and helped himin more ways than mere patronage, and she knew that poor Litizki was asgrateful and loyal as a dog. It was with sincere welcome, therefore,that she greeted him, and asked him into the house.
"I only came," said the tailor, "to ask if there is any news of Mr.Strobel? The newspapers say he has disappeared."
"We know nothing of him here," answered Mrs. White; "but come in, do!There's no telling who may say the word that will put us all on theright track. Miss Hilman is here, the lady he was to marry, you know.She's talking with a gentleman now in the parlor. I presume she maylike to see you."
"I don't know that I can give her any help," said Litizki, followingthe landlady into the dining-room, "but I'll wait a few minutes, for Iwanted to know something that the papers do not make clear."
He came to a sudden halt as he stepped into the dining-room, where thevoices of the persons in the front room were heard much more distinctlythan in the hall.
"Who is that talking?" he exclaimed in an excited whisper.
"It's a gentleman who called on Mr. Strobel yesterday," replied Mrs.White; "I can't think of his name."
"I should know that voice," muttered Litizki as if speaking to himself.
The rooms were separated by folding doors with glazed glass panels. Onone of the panels there was a tiny spot where the opaque glaze had beenrubbed or knocked off. Litizki applied his eye to that spot, and shadedthe glass with his hand, straining to get a clear view of the man whosedeep voice came to him like the distant rumble of an organ.
After a moment he straightened up and turned about, his sallow,depressed features gleaming with savage interest.
"I cannot see clearly," he whispered, "but if that is AlexanderPoubalov, then the whole mystery of Strobel's disappearance is clearedaway!"