“Did he put that in the will?” inquired the dentist in a surprised tone.
“Then you do know something about it?”
“Yes; it is a strange story, and if you will promise—nay, swear—never to reveal it, I will tell it to you. Do you swear?”
Something in the manner and bearing of the man told me that he was no thief, and I readily promised what he asked, and he told me the following strange story:
A Strange Story.
Mr. Johnson conducted me into an inner room, closed and locked the door and bade me be seated.
“My name,” he began, “is not John Johnson. I am living under an assumed name for reasons of a political nature. I am a Russian by birth, and a Nihilist by thought and training. I deplore the condition of my unhappy country. I have done my part and am still willing to do it, to help bring about her freedom from the terrible despotism under which she suffers. I am acquainted with the horrors of Siberian prison-mines. I was sentenced to Siberia for life, for complicity in a Nihilistic plot. My brother was sent there soon afterward. Together we planned escape. I succeeded. He fell. Shot down by an officer of his Despotic Majesty. I managed to reach England, where I found many friends. In London I became acquainted with the late Mr. L——. He was also a Nihilist, and a victim of Alexander’s wrath. He, too, was an exile from his country. For either of us to return meant instant capture at the hands of the Czar’s well-trained police—or worse than that, Siberia. I lived in London five years. There I learned the trade of a dentist. Upon my banishment to Siberia, my property had been confiscated to the government.
“At the end of five years I came to the United States, where I have lived ever since. Mr. L—— came here soon after I did. He was a rich man. Just previous to his arrest, he had managed to convert most of his property into money which he deposited in a London bank. This had been used to effect his escape from Siberia. He had relatives in this country with whom he lived up to the time of his death. Soon after coming to this country, he imparted to me a secret which had been in his keeping for thirty years, it having been transmitted to him by his father. He was then a man of sixty. One day, ten years ago, he came into my office—this very room—and said he wished to speak with me upon a most important matter, one concerning our beloved country.
“‘Do you see this tooth,’ he inquired, pointing to a large, gold-capped molar in his lower jaw.
“‘Yes,’ I replied.