I had heard of government agents acting as cab-drivers, but I realized instantly that I was now, for the first time, face to face with one of these spies. For a Russian cab-driver to be familiar with French and German is even more extraordinary than it would be to find a New York or London cabby speaking two languages besides his own.
Pretending to read the address I called out an address in an entirely different quarter of the city. I discharged that fellow, and looked about for one of the usual peasant drivers such as are always found on the streets of Moscow and St. Petersburg, having finally deciphered the address and put it into Russian. My driver left me before a very grand house in a fashionable quarter. I was admitted with considerable ceremony. The atmosphere of the establishment was much more like that of the court than of anything else. Presently a young exquisite introduced himself to me as the man whose name Sasha had given me.
“Sasha wants me. Where is he?” he said.
“At my house,” I replied. “But you are at dinner—”
“Dinner can wait. Where is your house?”
I told him.
“Is it a ‘white’ house?” he inquired further.
I told him it was to the best of my knowledge, whereupon he slipped on a rich greatcoat and we returned together.
Sasha and this mysterious stranger embraced like brothers. They kissed each other repeatedly. Whatever their business was it was quickly despatched, for in ten minutes the young man departed. Sasha never offered any explanation concerning him, but I have always suspected that he was one of the treasurers of the organization, for these are usually men of social standing above suspicion.
When the stranger had gone Sasha unfolded to me the plan for the night. The Finnish frontier was so closely guarded that to escape in that direction seemed impossible. They had decided upon a bold scheme that would succeed if only it were carried out with sufficient dash.