Right through the large crowd gathered about, the four men pushed their way; then, abruptly they separated into pairs.
Jack grasped Frank by the arm.
“Quick!” he exclaimed. “You follow those two,” pointing, “and I’ll take the others. We don’t know which one has the bomb.”
Frank nodded and set out in pursuit of the two moving toward the left.
In the crowd there was little danger that the men would notice that they were being followed, and Frank felt safe in crowding right on behind them. Jack followed the same plan with the other pair.
The crowd was held back by long lines of troops on either side of the street, spectators not being permitted closer than a hundred feet of the line of march.
In the extreme front, where they forced their way by dint of much pushing and shoving, the conspirators took their stand. Frank glanced about. Perhaps a hundred yards down the line he thought he caught sight of the large stature of his friend, but of this he could not be positive.
Half an hour passed, then three quarters, then the sound of a distant bugle and galloping hoofs gave notice that the troops were approaching. Almost at the same moment a figure descended the palace steps and mounted a large black charger. The figure was handsomely garbed, and gold glittered over his uniform. Even from where he stood Frank could make out that he wore a beard.
It was Nicholas Romanoff, Czar of all the Russias.
The Czar rode his horse slowly down the lane of spectators and Frank and Jack, each in his respective place, became tense, expectant and ready for instant action.