The Czar's Spy: The Mystery of a Silent Love
"But why is Baron Oberg so extremely anxious to recapture Miss Heath?" I
asked earnestly.
"I have no idea," was his reply. "The secret orders from Helsingfors to
me are to arrest her at all hazards--alive or dead."
"Which means that the Baron would not regret if she was dead," I
remarked, in response to which he nodded in the affirmative.
I told him of the faithful services of Felix, the Finlander, whereupon
he said simply:
"I told you that you might trust him implicitly."
"But now that you have shown yourself my friend," I said, "you will
assist Miss Heath to escape this man, who desires to hold her prisoner
in that awful place. They are driving her mad."
"I will do my best," he answered, but shaking his head dubiously. "But
you must recollect that Baron Oberg is Governor-General of Finland,
with all the powers of the Czar himself."
"And if Elma Heath again falls into his unscrupulous hands, she will
die," I declared.
"Ah!" he sighed, looking me straight in the face, "I fear that what you
say is only too true. She evidently holds some secret which he fears she
will reveal. He wishes to rearrest her in order--well--" he added in a
low tone, "in order to close her lips. It would not be the first time
that persons have been silenced in secret at Kajana. Many fatal
accidents take place in that fortress, you know."
CHAPTER XII
"THE STRANGLER"
Where was Elma? What was the cause of her inexplicable disappearance
into the gloomy forest while we had slept?
I returned to the hotel where I had stayed on my arrival, a comfortable
place called the Phoenix, and lunched there alone. Both Felix, the Finn,
and my host, the wood-cutter, had received their _douceurs_ and left,
but to the last-named I had given instructions to return home at once
and report by telegraph any news of my lost one.
A thousand conflicting thoughts arose within me as I sat in that crowded
_salle-à-manger_ filled with a gobbling crowd of the commercial men of
Abo. I had, I recognized, now to deal with the most powerful man in that
country, and I suffered a distinct disadvantage by being in ignorance of
the reason he held that sweet English girl a prisoner. The tragedy of
the dastardly manner in which she had been willfully maimed caused my
blood to boil within me. I had never believed that in this civilized
twentieth century such things could be.
Michael Boranski had given his pledge to assist me, yet he had most
plainly explained to me his fears. The Baron was intent upon again
getting Elma into his power. Was it at his orders, I wondered, that the
sweet-faced girl had been deprived of speech and hearing? Had she fallen
an innocent victim to his infamous scheming?
About me men were eating strange dishes and talking in Finnish, while
others were smoking and drinking their vodka; but I was in no mood for
observation. My only thought was of she who was now lost to me.
Why had she disappeared without warning I was at loss to imagine, yet I
could only surmise that her flight had been compulsory. Some women
possess a mysterious sense of intuition, a curious and indescribable
faculty of knowing when evil threatens them, that presents a strange and
puzzling problem to our scientists. It is unaccountable, and yet many
women possess it in a very marked degree. Was it, therefore, possible
that Elma had awakened, and being warned of her peril had fled without
arousing us? The suggestion was possible, but I feared improbable.
Another very curious feature in the affair was the sudden manner in
which Michael Boranski had exerted his power and influence in order to
render me that service. He had actually bribed the guards of Kajana; he
had instructed the faithful Felix, he had provided our boat, and he had
ordered the nun to open the water-gate to me. Why?
There was, I felt convinced, some hidden motive in all that sudden and
marked friendliness. That he really hated the English I had seen plainly
when we had first met, and I had only compelled him to serve me by
presenting the order signed by the Emperor, which made me his guest
within the Russian dominions. Even that document did not account for the
length he had gone to secure the release of the woman I now loved in
secret. The more I thought it over, the more anxious did I become. I
could discern no motive for his friendliness, and, truth to tell, I
always distrust those who are too friendly. What straight and decided
line of action should I take? Carefully I went over all the strange
events that had happened in England, and while anxious to obtain some
solution of the amazing problem, yet I could not bring myself to leave
Finland, and allow Elma to fall into the clutches of that high official
who so persistently sought her end. No. I would go to him and face him.
I was anxious to see what manner of man was "The Strangler of Finland."
Therefore, that same evening I left Abo, and traveled by rail up to the
junction Toijala, whence, after a wait of six hours, I resumed by slow
journey to Helsingfors. I put up at Kamp's, an elegant hotel on the long
esplanade overlooking the port, and found the town, with its handsome
streets and spacious squares, to be a much finer place than I had
believed. When I inquired of the French director of my hotel for the
residence of his Excellency, the Governor-General, he regarded me with
some surprise, saying:
"The Baron lives up at the Palace, m'sieur--that great building opposite
the Salutong. The driver of your drosky will point it out to you."
"Is his Excellency in Helsingfors at the present moment?" I asked.
"The Baron never leaves the Palace, m'sieur," responded the man. "This
is a strange country, you know," he added, with a grin. "It is said that
his Excellency is in hourly fear of assassination."
"Perhaps not without cause," I remarked in a low voice, at which he
elevated his shoulders and smiled.
At noon I descended from a drosky before a long, gray, massive building,
over the big doorway of which was a large escutcheon bearing the Russian
arms emblazoned in gold, and on entering where a sentry stood on either
side, a colossal concierge in livery of bright blue and gold came
forward to meet me, asking in Russian:
"Whom do you wish to see?"
"His Excellency, the Governor-General."
"Have you an appointment?"
"No."
"His Excellency sees no one without an appointment," the man told me
somewhat gruffly.
"I am not here on public business, but upon a private matter," I
explained. "Perhaps I may see his Excellency's secretary?"
"If you wish, but I repeat that his Excellency sees no one without a
previous appointment."
I knew this quite well, for the "Strangler of Finland," fearful of
assassination, was as unapproachable as the Czar himself. Following the
directions of the concierge, however, I crossed a great bare courtyard,
and, ascending a wide stone staircase, was confronted by a servant, who,
on hearing my inquiry took me into a waiting-room, and left with my card
to Colonel Luganski, whom he informed me was the Baron's private
secretary.
After ten minutes or so the man returned, saying:
"The Colonel will see you if you will please step this way," and
following him he conducted me into the richly furnished private
apartments of the Palace, across a great hall filled with fine
paintings, and then up a long thickly-carpeted passage to a small,
elegant room, where a tall bald-headed man in military uniform stood
awaiting me.
"Your name is M'sieur Gregg," he exclaimed in very good French, "and I
understand you desire audience of his Excellency, the Governor-General.
I regret, however, that he never gives audience to strangers."
"The matter upon which I desire to see his Excellency is of a purely
private and confidential nature," I said, for used as I was to the ways
of foreign officialdom, I spoke with the same firm courtesy as himself.
"I am very sorry, m'sieur, but I fear it will be necessary in that case
for you to write to his Excellency, and mark your letter 'personal.' It
will then go into the Governor-General's own hands."
"What I have to say cannot be committed to writing," was my reply. "I
must see Baron Oberg upon a matter which affects him personally, and
which admits of no delay."
He glanced at me quickly, and then in a low voice inquired:
"Is it in regard to a--well, a conspiracy?"
His question instantly suggested to me a ruse, and I replied in the
affirmative.
"Then you can place the facts before me without the slightest
hesitation," he said, going to the door and slipping the bolt into its
socket. "Anything spoken into my ear is as though it were spoken into
that of his Excellency himself."
"I much regret, M'sieur the Colonel, that I must see the Baron in
person."
"Has the plot assassination as its object--or revolt?" he asked
pointedly.
"That I will explain to the Baron only."
"But I tell you he will not see you. We have so many persons here with
secret information concerning Finnish conspiracies against our Russian
rule. Why, if his Excellency saw everyone who desired to see him, he
would be compelled to give audience the whole twenty-four hours round."
At a glance I saw that this elegant Colonel, who seemed to take the
greatest pride over his exquisitely kept person and his spotless
uniform, did not intend to allow me the satisfaction of an audience of
that most hated official of the Czar. The latter was in fear of the
dagger, the pistol, or the bomb, and consequently hedged himself in by
persons of the Colonel's type--courteous, diplomatic, but utterly
unbending. After some further argument, I said at last in a firm tone:
"I wish to impress upon you the extreme importance of the information I
have to impart, and can only repeat that it is a matter concerning his
Excellency privately. Will you therefore do me the favor to take my name
to him?"
"His Excellency refuses to be troubled with the names of strangers," was
his cold reply, as he turned over my card in his hand.
"But if I write upon it the nature of my business, and enclose it in an
envelope, will you then take it to him?" I suggested.
He hesitated for a short time, twisting his mustache, and then replied
with great reluctance:
"Well, if you are so determined, you may write your business upon your
card."
I therefore took out one, and on the back wrote in French the words
which I knew must have the effect of obtaining an audience for me:
"_To give information regarding Miss Elma Heath_."
This I enclosed in the envelope he handed to me, when, ringing a bell,
he handed it to the footman who appeared, with orders to take it to his
Excellency and await a reply. The response came in a few minutes.
"His Excellency will give audience to the English m'sieur."
Then I rose and followed the footman through several wide corridors
filled with palms and flowers, which formed a kind of winter-garden,
until we crossed a red-carpeted ante-room, where two statuesque sentries
stood on guard, and the man conducting me rapped at the great polished
mahogany doors of the room beyond.
A voice responded, the door was opened, and I found myself in a high,
beautifully-painted room, with long windows hung with pastel-blue silk
with heavy gilt fringe, a pastel-blue carpet, and upon the opposite wall
a great canopy of rich purple velvet bearing the double-headed eagle
embroidered in gold. The apartment was splendidly decorated, and in the
center of the parquet floor, with his back to the light, was the thin,
wiry figure of an elderly man in a funereal frock-coat, in the lapel of
which showed the red and yellow ribbon of the Order of Saint Anne. His
hands were behind his back, and he stood purposely in such a position
that when I entered I could not at first see his face against the