Poor Siegel! I could have laughed again; but did not. I was appropriately shocked, almost horror-struck, at the news.
“It is terrible,” I said, gravely. “One cannot wish to help such a criminal as a murderer, even if he be one’s own countryman;” and with that we parted.
The one item of fact I had gathered was that the prisoners had been sent back to Petersburg; and in the hours of my journey I had ample time to consider my plans, and had them pretty well cut and dried when I reached the capital.
I chose a quiet hotel for the night, registered myself as Frank Siegel of San Francisco, and after a supper served in my own rooms, I went straight to bed.
I took all the precautions I could to avoid observation, of course, as I had to face the double risk of recognition by the Nihilists and by any of Prince Kalkov’s agents.
In the morning I commenced my work. I drove to the American Embassy and sent up Siegel’s card to Harold Marvyn.
I was shown up to his room and as I entered he jumped up from his table and came toward me, with hand extended. Then he stopped suddenly and with a very sharp look said—
“They brought me Mr. Siegel’s card.”
“Do you recognize me?” I asked.
“Good heavens, you are Harper C. Denver.”