Up to this time Zamosc had been perfectly quiet, but now he gave voice to a loud cry. Sandoff entered the sledge and gagged him with a handkerchief, performing the operation with as little discomfort as possible to his prisoner, but with such skill that any outcry was out of the question.
“I will have my interview with the fellow later,” he said to Shamarin. “As yet he does not recognize us. The first thing is to get away from this locality.”
A short whistle brought Vera from her post. She was overjoyed at the success of Sandoff’s plan, and reported the road to the westward clear. Five minutes was spent in covering Zamosc up among the rugs in one end of the sledge, and Vera in the other. Then the hood was dropped over the rear end and buttoned down, and Sandoff mounted to the seat, drawing the collar of his fur coat high about his ears, and thrusting his hand into the inner pocket to make sure that Zamosc’s little packet of valuable documents was safe. Shamarin mounted beside him, looking every inch a Cossack with his green uniform, his rifle, and his black, matted beard.
“Remember,” said Sandoff warningly, as he gathered the lines together and flicked the spirited horses with the whip, “remember that from this time on I am Inspector Zamosc!”
Then the sledge bounded forward, rumbled across the bridge, and sped over the frozen road, toward the Pacific, Vladivostok—and freedom.
CHAPTER VIII.
COLONEL NORD OF RIGA.
The gray dawn stole over the sky, and when it was sufficiently light for his purpose Sandoff drew out the bundle of papers and examined them closely. One was the passport, made out in the name of Serge Zamosc and companions—a form which admitted of a very wide construction. The others were letters of instruction, which made clear—at least to a certain point—the object of Zamosc’s journey across Siberia. It appeared that the inspector was to report on the condition of Siberian prisons, with a view to changes which the Minister of Police had in contemplation. Moreover the nature of these letters showed that Zamosc’s mission was a secret one, and among them was one document which enjoined all government officials along the route to give him whatever aid he might require.
“I rely on this more than anything,” said Sandoff to his companion, “for it puts us beyond the reach of unpleasant questioning. As for Vera, I have a plan that promises well. I will say that she is the wife of some Russian officer at Irkutsk, who is going to visit friends at Vladivostok, and whom I have agreed to see to her destination.”
“Yes, that is a splendid plan,” rejoined Shamarin. “But yourself, are you in no danger?”
“Very little, I think,” said Sandoff confidently. “It is not likely that we shall encounter any one who ever saw Zamosc, for he was never out of Russia before. We will travel rapidly and make as few stops as possible. We will part company with our captive as soon as Vladivostok is reached.”