“Stalin?” echoed Leshkin very softly; there was a note of reverence in his voice — a shade too of fear.
De Richleau followed up his advantage. “Have me shot then. I am an old man. I have faced death many times. I am not afraid, but remember that you shall answer for it to... Stalin.”
“If this is true, you have papers.” Leshkin held out his hand. “Show me the passes of the Ogpu.”
“I have no papers.” De Richleau made a disdainful gesture. “There are forces outside the Ogpu — forces outside the Soviet Union; Stalin uses many strange weapons for the good of The Party.”
“I do not believe this,” Leshkin murmured, sullenly.
“Do you know anything of my history?” De Richleau went on. “If you do, you know that I am a political exile from my own country; driven out as a young man, nearly forty years ago, by a capitalist government Do you know why Aron was received by Madame Karkoff immediately on his arrival in Moscow? On instructions. Between them there was no thought but of the secret work that must be done for The Party. We made pretence of seeking information in order that even the Ogpu should not suspect our true intentions. Do you know who the American is? He is the son of Channock Van Ryn, one of the richest men in America. It was for us to gain his confidence — far greater issues hang upon this American than a simple attempt to recover these jewels — they are an old-wives’ tale. I doubt if they are here at all!” He paused impressively, holding the Russian with his eyes.
Leshkin sat silent for a little — again he clawed his sparse red beard. He knew that Stalin employed secret spies outside the Ogpu — was it possible that these were members of the inner circle? Then his eyes took on a cunning look, and he said, sullenly:
“Why, then, did you let the American go south alone? No —” he hit the table with his big, white fist. “I do not believe it — you are intriguing foreigners — I will have you shot.”
“So be it.” De Richleau gave the suggestion of a bow. “The choice is yours. I have only one regret — I shall be unable to be present when you are called upon to face our master. That will be a bad half-hour for you. Comrade.”
The Kommissar stood up. At his call the guards came back into the room. He gave short instructions and the Duke and Simon were led out. They were taken down the passage again, across the great, echoing hall, and through a second passage, into another wing. Here a door was opened and they were thrust into the darkness. The door slammed behind them and they heard a heavy bolt shot home.