By Right of Sword

by Arthur W. Marchmont

OLGA'S ABDUCTION.

I went home in a very unenviable frame of mind, and my temper was not improved by my meeting my old opponent, Devinsky, near my rooms.

For the moment I was powerless to think of any possible means of relief. My helplessness was so complete as to be almost ludicrous: and if it had not been for Olga, I would have just let myself be dragged along by the singular chain of events which had coiled themselves round me.

I must rouse myself to some sort of effort for her sake. I saw that, of course. But the result of a couple of hours' thinking was only to increase my utter perplexity; and I went off to bed to try if sleep would clear my wits.

I resolved to see Olga the next day as soon as possible after my regimental duties were over. There was but one thing possible. She must go at once and we must try to hit on some plan by which she could escape at any hazard. But my regimental work was heavier than usual, and when it was over a meeting of the officers was called in reference to the impending visit of the Czar to Moscow. It was thus late in the afternoon before I could get to Olga.

At the house, astounding news awaited me.

The Countess Palitzin met me with the question where Olga was. I looked at her in astonishment; and then she told me a message had come from me early in the forenoon, asking Olga to go round at once to my rooms. She had gone, promising to return soon or send word. She had done neither; and a six hours' absence had made the old lady anxious.

"She should have been back before this," I said, quietly, not wishing to add to her alarm. "Who do you say came for her?"

"Your servant, Borlas, Olga told me."

I tried to reassure her that all was right, though I did not at all like the look of things, and I hurried back to my rooms to question Borlas. He had not been there on my return from barracks, and he was not there now; and there was nothing to shew that he had not been absent for some hours.

Did this mean treachery? Or had Olga been arrested? Could she be in the hands of the Nihilists? Or what? A thousand wild thoughts flashed through my mind as I stood for a minute thinking what I ought to do first, and where to look for her.

Then I recalled my meeting with Devinsky near my rooms.

I dashed out and ran to Essaieff's rooms to find out all he knew about Borlas, as he had recommended the man to me; and to learn whether he would be likely to be bribed to do such an act of treachery as now seemed possible. But my friend was out. Leaving word for him to come at once to me I went on to Madame Tueski and questioned her. She equivocated, suggesting that I was feeling her power; and with the utmost difficulty I drew from her that despite all her hints she knew nothing.

I ran then to the Prince Bilbassoff; but he was away. I hurried next to the Princess; she knew nothing, but was full of sympathy and offers of help.

I wanted news, however, not offers of help; and I rushed back to my rooms, on my way to the police, on the off-chance that Borlas had returned.

He had not: but in his place there was something much more important. A rough, wild looking country-man was standing at my door, holding the bridle of a shaggy pony that bore signs of heavy travelling; and the man had been trying vainly to get into my house. He addressed me, asking where he could find Lieutenant Petrovitch; and then gave me a slip of paper from Olga.

"Am suspicious and sending this back. If anything wrong, follow me. O."

I then questioned the man closely and he said that his wife was called to the window of a carriage to a young lady who was ill. When she had recovered, she gave his wife a handkerchief. In it was the message and a sum of money and a request that it—the paper—should be brought to me at once. This had occurred at Praxoff, about ten miles out on the north road.

In less than a quarter of an hour I was armed and mounted; and a few minutes saw me free of the city and flying at full gallop in pursuit. I knew the road well enough, owing to my long residence as a boy in Moscow; and I now put my horse to its utmost speed and made straight for the house where Olga had seen the peasant woman.

I found it without the least difficulty and got a description of the carriage, horses, and postilion; and I questioned the woman as to every word Olga had said to her and who was in the carriage.

From what she said, I judged it was Borlas, and that the two were alone.

I stayed no longer than was necessary to hear all the woman had to say, and then I rode on still at full speed, asking right and left as I went for tidings of the carriage. The trail was broad enough for anyone to follow for some miles and then I came upon information that gave me a complete clue to the whole matter.

Reining up at a wayside inn, I put the usual questions; adding that the lady was my sister and that I was an officer in the Moscow Infantry Regiment. The landlord came to me instantly.

"You are Lieutenant Petrovitch?" he asked.

"Yes," and I told him my errand.

"Have you been engaged in a duel this morning?"

I stared at the man and asked him what he meant. His answer shewed what story had been concocted to trick Olga.

"A gentleman engaged two rooms here this morning, saying they would be wanted in connection with a duel in the neighbourhood. One of the combatants was Lieutenant Petrovitch; and the latter's sister was coming to be near at hand in case of her brother being hurt. She was coming out with the brother's servant and when she arrived was to be shewn at once to the room engaged for her. As a fact the duel had already been fought in the early hours: Lieutenant Petrovitch had been badly wounded and lay at a private house a few miles further on, too ill to be moved. The sister was to be told this; the news being broken gradually; and she was not to be allowed to leave the inn, unless she insisted very much, in which case the servant would know where to take her; and fresh horses were to be supplied. I told her gently," continued the landlord; "and she insisted on going on at once without even stopping for food. Fresh horses were put in accordingly, and the carriage proceeded with less than half an hour's halt here, all told."

I saw the ruse in a moment. It was to get fresh horses without Olga being suspicious; and to draw in the landlord so as to appear to give the story corroboration.

"What was the man like who came to you?" I asked impatiently, ordering a horse to be saddled instantly. In reply the landlord described Devinsky accurately.

I saw it all now; and when the man had given me a valuable clue to the road which the carriage had taken—it had been met by some returning postboys—I set off again in pursuit in the now gathering dusk, as fast as I could make the new horse move.

I rode on till the dark fell: and still on till the moon rose and flooded the land with her thin light; and it was not until ten at night that I reached the end of my journey. Some peasants gave me the final clue. They had met the carriage and a question had been asked of them as to the whereabouts of a certain house. They told me now where this was, and a few minutes later I reached the place.

It was an old ramshackle house, once the seat of a family of good position but now fallen upon evil days. It made three sides of a square and the courtyard in the middle was all weed-grown, moss-covered and uneven, with one large yew tree standing dark and gloomy in the centre. The main entrance was in the middle portion; and there were two small gothic arched doors in the wings. But these seemed very stout as I examined them; and all the windows were latticed with stout ironwork.

Just the spot for such a venture as this, I thought, as I stole about the place to reconnoitre, treading softly, and keeping as much as possible in the dark shadows which the walls made.

There was not a sound to be heard, nor a light to be seen; while the look of the place made it certain that I should have a hard task to force my way inside. The same unpromising look of things met me when I left the front and crept round to the back and when I had seen all round the house I could not make up my mind what was the best thing to do.

There are times, however, when any kind of action is better than doing nothing. There was everything to be gained and nothing to be lost by Devinsky learning that I had followed him and knew his hiding-place. I resolved on a pretty bold course, therefore, and drawing my revolver I stepped out into the full moonlight and walked quickly to the main entrance.

I had reached to within ten yards of the door when a voice called to me:—

"Who goes there? What do you want? Stop, or I fire."

Looking up I saw the gleam of a rifle barrel levelled dead at me. I did not stop to answer but leaping aside, I darted forward into the doorway, where the man could not cover me with his weapon, because of a shallow porch which intervened to protect me.

I darted forward into the doorway.

The incident shewed me the sort of welcome I was to expect.

There was an old and heavy knocker on the door, and a huge bell-pull. I seized both these and set up first a knocking that might have roused the dead and then a clanging of the bell equally furious and dinning. Presently the bell ceased to sound and I gathered either that someone within had cut the wires or that I had broken them in my energy. The great knocker suited me equally well, however—perhaps better, as the noise rang out on the still night air, making a fearful din—and if there did chance to be anyone within half a mile of the place they would hear it and might hasten to learn the cause.

Those inside took the same view of the matter, apparently; for suddenly and without my knowing the cause, I found the big heavy door give way before one of my lusty attacks with the knocker; and as I pushed, it swung slowly open.

Everything within was as dark as pitch; and the contrast between the row I had been making and the dead silence that followed was so profound as to make me stand a minute that my ears should get accustomed to the change.

Then drawing my sword and holding my revolver in my left hand, I stepped in and tried to peer about me.

The light of the moon gave a faint reflection within, but not enough for me to be able to make out anything distinctly; nor, when I strained my ears could I detect the slightest sound anywhere.

My first thought was that as I stood in the doorway, I should be an excellent mark for anyone caring to shoot, and I slipped aside therefore, into the heavy shadow of the big door. It was full five minutes before my eyes, keen as they are, could distinguish anything; and then I seemed to make out two doorways, one on each side of a large hall into which the big door opened, and beyond them in the middle a broad stairway.

I groped my way warily a few steps, feeling along the wall, when I stopped and began to reflect that I was making a fool of myself in attempting single-handed and in pitch darkness to find my way about the place. I must wait for a light of some sort. I had no idea how many men there might be in the house. I did not know a square foot of the plans. While I was blundering about in the dark I should be an easy prey for men whom I could as easily fight in the daylight. Moreover I argued that the knowledge that I had tracked him would keep Devinsky from attempting any devilment as yet.

I was in the house; and I resolved therefore to wait patiently where I was in the hall until I had light enough to guide me in my search for Olga.

But I could not keep to the resolution.

Scarcely had I formed the plan when the stillness was broken by a woman's scream, shrill and piercing, and a cry for help that made my heart leap into my throat with wrath as I thought I could recognise Olga's voice.

Without another moment's hesitation, and uttering a loud shout in reply, I dashed forward to where I could see the outline of the stairway, and rushed up in the direction of the cries for help.

Idiot that I was! Of course I rushed straight into the trap that had been laid for me. As I reached the top and turned to dart along a corridor, my feet were tripped and I fell sprawling headlong with a clatter and a dozen oaths to the ground, my sword flying one way and my revolver another; and before I could help myself three or four fellows were upon me, and though I fought and struggled with them and nearly choked one on to whose throat I fastened my grip, I was overpowered and bound securely hand and foot. Then I was blindfolded and gagged, and in this absolutely helpless state, carried down the stairs again, getting on the way two or three hearty kicks from the men I had pummelled. They threw me down on the floor of an empty room and left me.

I cursed my folly bitterly when I heard the fellows' footsteps as they left the room and locked the door behind them. I had spoilt all for the lack of a little caution. I was an idiot, a fool, a numskull, a jackass, to have been caught by a trick which a child might have anticipated; and I rolled about the floor, cursing myself and tearing and pulling at my bonds in my passion, till I had torn the flesh in a dozen places. But I could not loosen a single strand of all the cords that bound me; and I gnashed my teeth and could almost have shed tears in my baffled rage and fury.

I lay thus some hours till the light must have come, for even through the heavy bandages on my eyes, the darkness seemed tinged with grey. As I thought of the use I might have made of the light, my self-reproaches welled up again till I felt almost like a madman.

Later on I heard the door unlocked and two or three men entered. They came and turned me over and holding me firmly, cut the ropes that bound my arms, and then tied my hands behind me in iron handcuffs, drawing them so tightly that I could not move them without pain. When I was so far secured they cut the ropes from my legs and bade me stand up. I tried; but the rush of the released blood brought with it too much pain, and I was just as helpless as a baby for some minutes. When at length I managed to scramble to my feet, they unfastened the bandage from my eyes and as soon as my dazed sight could focus itself, I saw that brute Devinsky looking at me with a sneering laugh.

"So it's you, is it?" he cried, as if in surprise. "Turned robber, eh, breaking into men's houses in the dead of night? And what the devil are you doing here? My men told me there was a thief here, but I didn't expect you."

"Don't lie to me," I cried sternly. "You know well enough why I'm here. Where's my sister. If you're not too damned a coward, get me my sword and let's settle this thing together and at once."

He winced at the taunt, but he didn't mean to fight that way.

"Thank you. I don't fight with burglars. I hand them over to the police—when it suits me. I always thought there was something secret about you; now I know what it is. You've been living by this sort of work I suppose. Officer by day, and footpad by night. I'm glad my men have caught you at last." Then he sent them away; and as soon as we were alone he asked me:—"Do you value you life?"

"Yes, for one reason. To take yours."

"Well, you can have it—if you like to be reasonable."

"I make no terms with a villain like you."

"More fool you," he laughed. "You may as well face the position. You are in my power. This house is big enough and strong enough to hide a regiment, let alone one man. You can't stop me now from carrying out my intention in regard to your sister, by fair means or otherwise; and you may as well make the best of a bad business, and own that I've got the whip hand of you, partly by my luck and partly by your own damned stupidity. I'd rather have you on my side in this matter than against me; but with me or against me you can't stop me. What do you say?"

"This. That the first use I'll make of my hands when they're free shall be to try and choke the life out of you. And by God, I'll try and do it now." In my rage I rushed upon him, but like the cowardly cur he was, he struck me, bound and defenceless as I was, with all his force in the face, and then with a cry brought in the other men. These threw themselves upon me and bore me to the ground, and bound my legs again, so that I was once more absolutely helpless.

"You saw that attack the villain made on me," said Devinsky to the men. "I was offering to release him. You'll bear witness to that. As for you," turning to me, "you can stay here for a few hours more to cool your murderous fever; and I will send back orders for your release, when I am at a safe distance. And, remember, there are strong cellars below; and if there are any more attempts at violence, I'll have you put there."

He went out then with the men and in a moment later returned alone and said in a voice full of rage and hate:—"I'm going through with this, Petrovitch, at any cost—if I have to shut you up here till the flesh rots off your bones. Your sister and I are going further on shortly: and I'll see you once more before I start, and give you one more chance of listening to reason." And with this he left me.

My plight was worse than ever. So far, Olga was safe. That was the only glimpse of comfort in all the miserable situation. It was clear, too, that she was in the house; and though she was still in the man's power, I might yet find some means of helping her.

But how? That was the question. And when I thought of his words that he was going to carry her still further away, I turned sick with rage and loathing.