CHECKMATE!
As soon as Paula Tueski left me I went round to Olga to endeavour to solve the riddle of the woman's discovery. Olga was out and would not return for an hour. Leaving word that I wished to see her particularly and that she was to wait for me, I went for a walk to try and order my thoughts.
Finding myself near the Princess Weletsky's house, and knowing that I had to keep up the semblance of attentions there, I called. She received me with marks of the most warm regard and welcome.
"I have heard much of what happened at that wretched Devinsky's house. Old Fedor who went with you told me much and my brother much also; but I would rather hear all from you. Where is Olga? You were wounded, I hear. What was it? Tell me—tell me. I have been dying with anxiety for you."
I told her shortly what had happened; and then it occurred to me to try and get her help in regard to Olga. I drew a fancy picture of Olga's shattered nerves; that Moscow had become a place of terror to her; and that even Russia itself was distasteful to her for a time on Devinsky's account.
"Do you think that a man like Devinsky would dare to lay so much as a finger on one of our family?" she asked, checkmating me quietly with a single pronoun.
"It's not what Devinsky dares, but what Olga fears."
"She did not strike me as a girl of nervous fears."
"No; she does not shew it even to me."
"Then we can do better than drive the poor child away from home—punish Devinsky. Tell her that he is already under arrest."
"Is that so, indeed?" I asked, in some astonishment.
"Certainly; his murderous attack on you when you were on the Emperor's special duty is a crime that will cost him dear. Those who play us false, Lieutenant Petrovitch, must beware of us. But our friends find the ways made easy for them. Did not my brother tell you that Olga was to be protected as one of us, and therefore avenged, if wronged?"
"She will be glad to feel safe," I replied quietly. I knew what she meant; and with a look that seemed to imply much, I added:—"I am glad to be one of your friends." I was getting such an adept in the suggestion of a lie, that much more practice would make it difficult for me to tell the plain truth.
My companion flushed with pleasure.
"I always felt I should not count on you in vain," she said.
"No woman has ever done that, I trust," was my answer. "No woman ever could for whom I felt as I feel for you." And with that, and a little more to the same effect, I left her.
I went round to Olga's at once. It was a blessing that with her there need be no secret meanings and insinuations.
She received me, of course, with a smile.
"Is this a pretence to see me, or really something?" she asked with a laugh.
"I think it is really something or I should not have dared to be back so quickly. Even brothers may be bores."
Her answer was a pretty one, such as might be expected from a lover, but I need not repeat it.
"First, I will tell you the news," I said, after a pause; and I told her about the arrest of Devinsky.
"These people strike swiftly and secretly, Alexis," she said, thoughtfully. "They frighten me. Their power is almost limitless. How hard they will hit and how far the blow will reach, if they ever find we are fooling them!" She sighed.
"The frontier is their limit: and we must pass it."
"I have been out to-day to make the preparations for flight. I suppose I must go?"—she smiled a sad little note of interrogation at me—"and if so, the sooner the better. I have a disguise, and shall start to-night. My difficulty will be of course at the frontier. I am going to stop short of that by one station, and then as a peasant girl try to get over on foot. It will take a little longer: but it is the only chance."
"No, I have good news for you so far as that is concerned. Madame Tueski will get you a permit in some name or other and then you can cross in the train. Far better."
"You have seen her then to-day?" A shadow of her old feelings crossed Olga's face as she asked this.
"Yes, I have seen her, and she is eager now that you shall get out of the country."
She was very quickwitted and read my meaning instantly from my words and tone.
"Tell me everything. There is more bad news yet to be told. Has she guessed? ... Ah, I always feared that woman."
"Tell me, Olga, ought I to have any special mark on either of my arms. Any birth-mark, or anything of that sort?"
She went white instantly.
"I had forgotten. That wretched woman's initials were tattooed in small letters just there"—she put her finger on the place—"I saw it once and Alexis was wild with me. Has she seen your arm bare?"
"My wound," I said, in explanation.
"Oh dear, through me again; through me again," cried the girl in distress. I took her in my arms to soothe her, and tried to make her understand that after all it was really a good thing that had happened and not a bad one, inasmuch as the woman's jealousy was urging her to help in getting Olga away. I told her everything frankly.
But this was not all a clear course, as may be imagined. Olga loved me very dearly and trusted me, I believe, as implicitly as any woman could trust the man she loved. But she was a woman and not a goddess: and she could not bring herself to like the necessity which took her out of the country and left me behind in the clutches of such a woman as Paula Tueski. She was a very reasonable little soul, however, as well as a brave one; and before I left her I had talked her into a condition of compulsory resignation.
I did not attempt to disguise from myself, though I did from Olga, the fact that her flight after my conversation with the Princess would certainly tend to bring suspicion upon me, if it should be discovered. Any secret step at such a juncture would do that. I thought I had better see the Prince himself, therefore, lest my neglect to do so should rouse his suspicions prematurely.
I went to him from Olga's house, and when I was admitted, after a little delay which I did not quite like, I found him as gracious as ever.
"I am very busy," he said, shaking hands with me; "but have time to hear that you have resolved to join us, Lieutenant."
"I have come now only to thank you...."
"I haven't time to listen to that. Your sister is again in Moscow; her persecutor is in the care of my men; you have only to say a word for her to be his judge. Do you say it?"
Seeing me hesitate, he paused only a moment.
"When a man like you doesn't say Yes, directly, he means, No. I understand. But—time is beginning to press with much force. Make up your mind; and don't come again till you have decided. Understand what that means. I can't see you again until you are ready to say Yes or No, finally—finally. Then come, and if you decide no, make it convenient before you come, to arrange any little matters that can best be put right personally. You may find obstacles afterwards. You understand?" and the look which accompanied the words shewed me that he meant all this as a pretty strong turn of the screw. "Oh, and by the by," he added, just as I was leaving the room—"of course you won't attempt to get away. You may if you like, you know, but you'll be wiser not to; because I have certain information about you, and any attempt at flight at such a juncture as this would give me an excellent excuse for dealing very summarily. Understand—I shall only see you again when you are ready to give me your decision."
My anxiety for Olga was making me like a silly frightened boy; and I went away from the man now with a chilled feeling of fear that set me doubting and speculating and anticipating a thousand forms of trouble which he could inflict upon her. I should not have a moment's peace of mind while Olga remained in Russia. That was certain.
I went back to my rooms and sat there thinking out moodily the particulars of the journey which the girl had to take alone, and my fears for her multiplied with almost every turn of my thoughts. Every detail of the position seemed to teem with additional menace and cause for alarm.
I had my own escape to think of too. I resolved, let the risks be what they might, that the instant Olga's telegram came telling me she had crossed the frontier, I should bolt; and the manner and direction of my flight had cost me many an anxious hour.
I had been looking forward to the possible necessity for a hurried flight ever since I had started the venture, and I had had time thus to make my plans fairly complete. For this purpose I had used my Nihilist connection, though I had of course kept my whole plans to myself, since I had contemplated running away from the Nihilists as much as from anyone else.
The chief difficulty was the geographical position of Moscow: the very kernel of Russia, and at tremendous distances from all the frontiers. My escape must be obviously a matter of the most careful planning, seeing that I should probably be many weeks, and perhaps months, carrying it out. From the first I abandoned all thought of making a dash straight for the frontier by train. Every outlet of the kind would be watched most jealously, alike by the police and the Nihilists: while the fact of Olga slipping through would increase a thousandfold the vigilance to prevent my following.
If Paula Tueski managed to get the permit, Olga would make her escape quickly by train, going either north-west to St. Petersburg and away by steamer: or west across the German frontier: or south-west down into Austria. Two days would do the business.
My escape was to be a very different affair.
I meant to leave Moscow on foot or pony back, disguised as a peasant woman, and as soon as I was well clear of the city, some 20 or 30 miles out, I intended to change that disguise and play the part of a horse-dealer, making for the two big horse fairs that were coming on soon at Rostov and Jaroslav—about 100 and 150 miles north respectively. For this purpose I proposed to buy up enough horses and ponies on my way to divert suspicion and sustain my part.
At Jaroslav I should sell these for what they would fetch and in the confusion of the fair time, change my character again. There I should strike the Volga: and my plan was to escape by river; working my way on the boats down to Tsaritsin and thence across by train to the Don. At the mouth of the Don, or at Taganrog, I calculated to be able to ship on a steamer across the Sea of Azov, and thence across the Black Sea, and out through the Bosphorus.
This was the outline, subject of course to any changes which necessity or expediency should suggest; and I preferred it, because if I could cut the trail between Moscow and the river, that was about the very last place in which I should be looked for; while the time that must be occupied on the river would give me the necessary opportunity for obtaining such papers as I should require to get away.
I had perfected the plan, thought out many of its details and discounted its risks, and had laid in many of the necessary disguises. But I was not destined to use them; for the direction of matters was wrested out of my hands by a stroke that checkmated me completely.
In the afternoon a letter came to me from Olga, vaguely worded, to the effect that Paula Tueski had sent for her and had given her what had been promised, and that all matters were now complete. She wished me to see her at seven o'clock.
I scribbled a line saying I would be there at the time.
The messenger, Olga's maid, went off with it: and almost before I thought she could have had time to get home and back again, she came hurrying in again breathless and excited, and all white with fear.
I thought at first she had been molested in some way in the streets—Moscow is not Eden—and I asked her what was the matter.
The reply, uttered in gasps and jerks of terror and with spasmodic sobs filled me in my turn with consternation.
Olga had been arrested during the girl's absence, and my aunt, the Countess Palitzin was like a mad-woman in her fear. She was all anxiety to see me.
"Arrested!" I cried, scarcely believing my own ears. "By whom? For what?"
"By the police; I don't know for what," wailed the girl. "But the Countess——"
"I'll go to her at once," I cried, interrupting her; and without another word I set off at once for Olga's house, with the greatest haste.
What could it all mean?
Whose blow was this? Coming at such a moment, it shattered all my plans to fragments.