“The Fox” was a member of the secret police whose recent arrests of revolutionists had wrought great havoc among the leaders of certain conspirative groups. He had formerly called himself a revolutionist, and as such had mingled freely among them. Though not long known to them, he had quickly established himself through his outspoken bitterness toward the government and the daring coups he was always ready to take part in. His cleverness was exceptional. That was why, conspiratively, he was called “the Fox.” Many revolutionists are known by similar names—the Beaver, the Hare, the Boar, etc. The adoption of the names of animals is a matter of common practice.
The Fox had been one of the group that had set up a miniature republic in one of the Baltic Provinces towns the previous January. Pasha had been another of the same group. Through the betrayals of the Fox several of that circle had been taken by the police. Pasha had fancied herself safe from him at least, and consequently safe from the charge upon which she was then sought, because in St. Petersburg she was far from the scene of her former activities.
“Perhaps he did not see us,” she said at last hopefully. Just then he glanced back quickly toward us, and then increased his pace.
I looked at my watch. We had only six minutes to catch the boat.
“The sooner we get out of this the better—with that man running around loose!” I said, rather flippantly.
I summoned a cab and told the driver I would give him twice his fare if he caught the boat. He drove furiously, but with only a couple of minutes we were not within sight of the quay and I began to fear that we would be too late.
“Get us there and you shall have three times your fee,” I shouted.
He laid on his whip. The horse bounded forward. We heard the boat whistle. We might make it! The carriage clattered over the wooden pier and stopped with a jerk just as the boat was pulling out.
We dared not show the disappointment we felt. A group of soldiers eyed us with evident interest. The Fox did not appear. Apparently he had not recognized Pasha, or he was not yet prepared to strike, or, he would telephone to the mainland to have us captured upon the arrival of the boat. Pasha looked up at me and laughed. That laugh was reassuring. It steadied me like a stimulant. Across the landing was another steamer on the point of departure.
“Quick!” I exclaimed, and hurried her aboard.