The International Spy Part 5

Hardly had I finished the immense lunch on which I was compelled to gorge myself, when a waiter brought me a card, the name on which gave me an electric shock.

"_M. Petrovitch._"

Every one has heard of this man, the promoter of the Manchurian Syndicate, and, if report spoke truly, the possessor of an influence over the young Czar which could be attributed only to some occult art.

I could not doubt that this powerful personage had been instigated to call on me by the Princess Y----.

What then? Was it likely that she would have sent the most influential man in the imperial circle to wait upon a traveling fanatic, a visionary humanitarian from Exeter Hall?

Impossible! Somehow something must have leaked out to rouse the suspicions of this astute plotter, and make her guess that I was not what I seemed.

It was with the sensations of a man struggling in the meshes of an invisible net that I saw M. Petrovitch enter the room.

The celebrated wire-puller, whose name was familiar to every statesman and stock-broker in Europe, had an appearance very unlike his reputation.

He was the court dandy personified. Every detail of his dress was elaborated to the point of effeminacy. His hands were like a girl's, his long hair was curled and scented, he walked with a limp and spoke with a lisp, removing a gold-tipped cigarette from his well-displayed teeth.

As the smoke of the cigarette drifted toward me, I was conscious of an acute, but imperfect, twinge of memory. The sense of smell, though the most neglected, is the most reliable sense with which we are furnished. I could not be mistaken in thinking I had smelt tobacco like that before.

"I have come to see you without losing a moment, Mr. Sterling," he said in very good English. "My good friend Madame Y---- sent me a note from the Palace to beg me to show you every attention. It is too bad that an amba.s.sador of peace--a friend of that great and good man, Place, should be staying in a hotel, while hundreds of Russians would be delighted to welcome him as their guest. My house is a poor one, it is true, and I am hardly of high enough rank, still----"

The intriguer was asking me to transfer myself to his roof, to become his prisoner, in effect.

"I cannot thank you enough," I responded, "but I am not going to stay. The Princess has convinced me that the war-cloud will blow over, and I think of going on to Constantinople to intercede with the Sultan on behalf of the Armenians."

"A n.o.ble idea," M. Petrovitch responded warmly. "What would the world do without such men as you? But at all events you will dine with me before you go?"

It was the second invitation to dinner I had received that day. But, after all, I could hardly suspect a trap in everything.

"Do you share the hopes of the Princess?" I asked M. Petrovitch, after thanking him for his hospitality.

The syndicate-monger nodded.

"I have been working night and day for peace," he declared impudently, "and I think I may claim that I have done some good. The j.a.panese are seeking for an excuse to attack us, but they will not get it."

"The Manchurian Syndicate?" I ventured to hint, rising to go to the bell.

"The Syndicate is wholly in favor of peace," he a.s.sured me, watching my movement with evident curiosity. "We require it, in fact, to develop our mines, our timber concessions, our----"

A waiter entered in response to my ring.

"Bring me some cigarettes--your best," I ordered him.

As the man retreated it was borne in on my guest that he had been guilty of smoking in my room without offering me his case.

"A thousand pardons!" he exclaimed. "Won't you try one of mine?"

I took a cigarette from the case he held out, turned it between my fingers, and lit it from the end farthest from the maker's imprint.

"If I am satisfied that all danger is removed I should be inclined to apply for some shares in your undertaking," I said, giving the promoter a meaning look.

From the expression in his eyes it was evident that this precious scoundrel was ready to sell Czar, Russia and fellow-promoters all together.

While he was struggling between his natural greed and his suspicion the waiter reentered with some boxes of cigarettes.

I smelt the tobacco of each and made my choice, at the same time pitching the half-smoked cigarette given to me by M. Petrovitch into the fireplace, among the ashes.

"Your tobacco is a little too strong for me," I remarked by way of excuse.

But the Russian was wrapped up in the thought of the bribe at which I had just hinted.

"I shall bear in mind what you say," he declared, as he rose.

"Depend upon it, if it is possible for me to meet your wishes, I shall be happy to do so."

I saw him go off, like a fish with the bait in its mouth. Directly the door closed behind him I sprang to the fireplace, rescued the still burning cigarette and quenched it, and then, carefully brus.h.i.+ng away the dust, read the maker's brand once more.

An hour later simultaneous messages were speeding over the wires to my correspondents in London, Amsterdam and Hamburg:

Ascertain what becomes of all cigarettes made by Gregorides; brand, Crown Aa.

CHAPTER IV

THE CZAR'S AUTOGRAPH

The next morning at breakfast I found the two invitations already promised. That of the head of the Manchurian Syndicate was for the same night.

Resolved not to remain in the dark any longer as to the reason for this apparent breach of etiquette, I decided to do what the Marquis of Bedale had suggested, namely, approach the Dowager Empress in person.

Well accustomed to the obstacles which beset access to royalty, I drove to the Palace in a richly appointed carriage from the best livery stable in Petersburg, and sent in my card to the chamberlain by an equerry.

"I have a message to the Czaritza which I am instructed to give to her majesty in person," I told him. "Be good enough to let her know that the messenger from the Queen of England has arrived."

He went out of the room, and at the end of ten minutes the door opened again and admitted--the Princess Y----!

Overpowered by this unlucky accident, as I at first supposed it to be, I rose to my feet, muttering some vague phrase of courtesy.

But the Princess soon showed me that the meeting did not take her by surprise.

"So you have a message for my dear mistress?" she cried in an accent of gay reproach. "And you never breathed a word of it to me. Mr.

Sterling, I shall begin to think you are a conspirator. _How_ long did you say you had known that good Mr. Place? But I am talking while her majesty is waiting. Have you any pa.s.sword by which the Czaritza will know whom you come from?"

"I can tell that only to her majesty, I am afraid," I answered guardedly.