Stolen Souls Part 21

"Come, I am awaiting your decision," he said impatiently.

In desperation she asked for time to consider. But he was inexorable, and she saw there was but one course open to her--namely, to become a spy.

"I--I will enter your service," she said at length, in a low, hoa.r.s.e voice. "I cannot refuse, since you make it the price of my freedom."

"Very well," he exclaimed, with satisfaction. "You will find our Tzar a liberal master, and should occasion arise, you will receive our protection. As for your secret alliance with us, no one will be aware of it except yourself. Let us shake hands, madame--or is it mademoiselle?--upon our agreement."

"No, Colonel Solovieff," she replied, drawing herself up haughtily. "I have sufficient reason for declining that honour. It is enough that I have allied myself with your despicable spies. I must wish you good-night."

"Very well, very well," he said in a tone of annoyance, as he picked up his hat and bowed. "_Au revoir_, madame; we shall meet again before long," he added meaningly, and, turning, he unlocked the door and went out.

"To-night--to-night I am vanquished!" she muttered fiercely between her teeth when he was out of hearing; "but henceforward I shall play a double game; and, _ma foi_! I intend to be victor!"

A year later, Colonel Solovieff had been recalled from London and appointed chief of the Secret Police of St. Petersburg. His success in discovering Nihilist plots in London and Paris had mainly been due to the information furnished by Adine, therefore he had compelled her to return to the Russian capital and take up her residence in the great mansion that had belonged to her late husband. Her implication in the revolutionary conspiracies had placed her completely in his power, and although forced to obey, she made one stipulation--that Paul Denissoff should be allowed to return to Petersburg unmolested. For a long time the colonel withheld this permission, but at length consented, and the fugitive returned to the woman he loved. He was unaware of Adine's alliance with the police, and she feared to tell him, lest he should despise her. A few members of the revolutionary party living in various parts of Russia had been denounced by her, and the Ministry of the Interior, believing the arrests of great importance, had commended Solovieff in consequence; but, truth to tell, the persons convicted were of the least dangerous type, and she always exercised the utmost caution, lest she should bring to justice any enthusiastic member of the party or compromise herself.

Number 87 Nevski Prospekt was a small, rather dilapidated house of three storeys. The window shutters of the ground and first floors being closed, gave it the appearance of being uninhabited. One apartment on the top floor, however, was furnished as a sitting-room, and was tenanted occasionally by Colonel Solovieff. It would have been folly for Adine to have met the chief of police at her house or at any place where they might be observed; therefore, in order to elude the vigilance of spies, both police and revolutionary, that everywhere abound in the Russian capital, he had taken the house in order to provide them with a secret meeting-place.

One afternoon early in spring, she was standing alone in this room, gazing thoughtfully out of the window, awaiting the man she despised and hated. Though possessing wealth, beauty, and influence, her life had been fraught with much bitterness. While she was yet in her teens, she loved Paul Denissoff, at that time a student at Moscow University; but her mercenary mother had compelled her to marry Orlovski, one of the merchant princes of the capital. For two years they lived together very unhappily, until late one night he was found lying dead in the street, shot by an unknown hand.

Adine mourned for him, but it was scarcely surprising that she felt some secret satisfaction at her freedom; especially when Paul, hearing of her bereavement, sought an interview and expressed his sympathy. Then she was unable to conceal the fact that she still loved him, and their mutual affection was resumed. By her marriage Paul's life had become embittered, and this had caused him to develop into a fearless Terrorist, reckless and enthusiastic in the cause of Russian freedom.

When she discovered he was a Nihilist, she at once joined the Circle, rendering considerable pecuniary a.s.sistance to the cause, and taking a prominent part in the fierce and terrible struggle between the people and the bureaucracy.

Now, however, as a spy, her position was extremely dangerous, and as she stood looking down into the broad thoroughfare, she was reviewing her past, and vainly trying to devise some means by which she could escape from the web that the detested Solovieff had cast about her.

In a few minutes the man with whom she had an appointment entered.

"Ah! good afternoon," he said, tossing his hat and stick upon a divan, and taking a chair at the table in the centre of the room. "Be seated.

I have some news for you. Do you recollect that soon after you consented to a.s.sist us, you gave me some information regarding a conspiracy at Moscow?"

Her face twitched nervously as she replied in the affirmative.

"Well, we acted upon your statement, and arrested sixteen of the revolutionists, all of whom have been tried by court-martial and sentenced to the mines. In recognition of your services in this instance, I am directed by my Imperial master, the Tzar, to give you this."

And, taking from his pocket-book a bank-note for five hundred roubles, he handed it to her.

She took it mechanically, scarcely knowing what she did. The touch of the limp paper, however, brought to her mind that it was the wages of her treachery. This filled her with indignation, and her face flushed crimson.

"Have you come to offer me yet another insult, Colonel Solovieff?" she cried. "Can you believe that I have fallen so low as to accept money as the price of the lives of poor wretches who are drawn into your merciless clutches? No, tell His Majesty that he may in future keep his paltry roubles. I do not require them. See how I value the Imperial munificence!"

And, taking the note between her fingers, she tore it into small pieces, which she scattered upon the carpet.

"We are not all so wealthy as yourself, madame," he said, somewhat surprised at her unusual independence. "Yet, after all, your scruples regarding these miserable curs, the Nihilists, amount to no more than mere caprice."

"That may be so," she replied quickly; "but in future, whatever information you require, you will obtain for yourself. My efforts on your behalf have been rewarded by gross insult; therefore I shall refuse to disclose any other revolutionary secrets."

"Pardon me, madame; I have no time to bandy words with you, but your decision is somewhat too hasty. I have discovered that three days hence a desperate attempt is to be made upon the life of His Majesty during the review at Peterhof, and further, that you are implicated in it!"

She started; she had believed her secret safe.

"I have resolved to preserve silence," she said abruptly.

"The plot is a most serious and widespread one," he continued, "and I tell you plainly that if you refuse to inform me where the meeting to arrange the final details will take place, I shall arrest both Denissoff and yourself as Nihilists. You have your choice."

She was nonplussed, and sat twirling the ribbons of her dress with nervous fingers, while he leaned his elbows upon the table, looking at her intently.

"I scarcely think it would be worth your while to refuse," he remarked.

"For myself, I care nothing. I am tired of being your puppet."

"You love Paul Denissoff; surely you will save him from Siberia?"

She hesitated. She saw that to avoid Paul's arrest she would be compelled to sacrifice all the members of the committee to whom the elaborate plot against the autocrat Alexander had been entrusted. She shuddered at the thought of the scandal it would create were she arraigned before a court-martial for conspiracy against the Tzar, and thought of the dreary, lifelong exile that would inevitably follow. In her bewilderment she resolved to secure Paul's freedom at any cost.

"So this is but another ill.u.s.tration of your Satanic cunning," she said at last, with knit brows. "I--I suppose it is imperative that I should betray my friends;" and she sighed heavily.

"Ah! I thought you would not care to bear the consequences of refusal,"

he exclaimed, smiling at her perplexity.

"You laugh!" she cried, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with anger. "It is true that you hold my destiny in your hands, but take care you do not provoke me to desperation."

"Threats do not become you, madame," he replied coolly. "Tell me, where shall I find these conspirators?"

She paused. She was thinking how she could save her friends.

"You know the Bolshaia Ssattovaia?" she said suddenly. "Well, almost exactly opposite the Commercial Bank there is a small leather-shop, with a large kitchen below. Go there to-morrow night at ten o'clock."

"Not to-night?" asked the chief of police, scribbling a memorandum.

"No; to-morrow."

"Very well," he said, rising and putting on his hat. "I am obliged for your information. _Bon jour_, madame. If I have been a little--a little abrupt, forgive me."

A moment later he had gone.

The scene was a weird one. In a low, damp, underground cellar, a dozen men and women were sitting around a table, upon the centre of which a playing-card was pinned by a thin ivory-hilted dagger. A couple of guttering candles shed a feeble light upon the pale, determined countenances of the conspirators, among whom sat Paul Denissoff.

The elderly, wild-haired man who sat at the head of the table was speaking authoritatively, and had been explaining to those a.s.sembled, the proposals for the _coup_ at Peterhof, a map of the neighbourhood being spread before him.

"And now," he said gravely, "we must draw lots for the removal of the traitor to whom I referred at the opening of our council."

A dead silence followed, while a man who sat on the president's right prepared a number of small folded slips of paper. Upon one of these the president scribbled a name. Then they were placed together in a small box, and each of the revolutionists drew. In addition to the president himself, only the person who drew the paper with the name upon it knew who had been guilty of treachery, while all remained in ignorance of the chosen a.s.sa.s.sin.

Then the council broke up, arranging to meet on the following night.