The Czar's Spy: The Mystery of a Silent Love
For what reason, I wondered, recollecting that formidable armory on
board. Already I had seen quite sufficient to convince me that the
_Lola_, although outwardly a pleasure yacht, was built of steel, armored
in its most vulnerable parts, and capable of resisting a very sharp
fire.
The hours passed, and beneath the brilliant moon we smoked long into the
night, for after the blazing sunshine of that Tuscan town the cool
sea-wind at night is very refreshing. From where we sat we commanded a
view of the whole of the sea-front of Leghorn and Ardenza, with its
bright open-air café-concerts and restaurants in full swing--all the
life and gayety of that popular watering-place.
Presently, when Hornby had risen to call a steward and left me alone
with Hylton Chater, the latter whispered to me in confidence--
"If you find my friend Hornby a little bit strange in his manner, Mr.
Gregg, you must take no notice. To tell the truth, he is a man who has
become suddenly wealthy beyond the wildest dreams of avarice, and I fear
it has had an effect upon his brain. He does very queer things at
times."
I looked at my companion in surprise. He was either telling the truth,
or else he was endeavoring to allay my suspicions by an extremely clever
ruse. Now I had already decided that Philip Hornby was no eccentric, but
a particularly level-headed and practical man. Therefore I instantly
arrived at the conclusion that the clean-shaven fellow who looked so
much like a London barrister had some distinct and ulterior purpose in
arousing within my mind suspicion of his host's sanity.
It was past midnight when, having bade the strange pair adieu, I was put
ashore by the two sailors who had rowed me out and drove home along the
sea-front, puzzled and perplexed.
Next morning, on my arrival at the Consulate, old Francesco, who had
entered only a moment before, met me with blanched face, gasping--
"There have been thieves here in the night, signore! The Signor
Console's safe has been opened!"
"The safe!" I cried, dashing into Hutcheson's private room, and finding
to my dismay the big safe, wherein the seals, ciphers and other
confidential documents were kept, standing open, and the contents in
disorder, as though a hasty search had been made among them.
Was it possible that the thieves had been after the Admiralty and
Foreign Office ciphers, copies of which the Chancelleries of certain
European Powers were ever endeavoring to obtain? I smiled within myself
when I realized how bitterly disappointed the burglars must have been,
for a British Consul when he goes on leave to England always takes his
ciphers with him, and deposits them at the Foreign Office for
safekeeping. Hutcheson had, of course, taken his, according to the
regulations.
Curiously enough, however, the door of the Consulate and the safe had
been opened with the keys which my friend had left in my charge. Indeed,
the small bunch still remained in the safe door.
In an instant the recollection flashed across my mind that I had felt
the keys in my pocket while at dinner on board the _Lola_. Had I lost
them on my homeward drive, or had my pocket been picked?
Carducci, with an Italian's volubility, commenced to hurl imprecations
upon the heads of the unknown sons of dogs who dared to tamper with his
master's safe, and while we were engaged in putting the scattered papers
in order the door-bell rang, and the clerk went to attend to the caller.
In a few moments he returned, saying--
"The English yacht left suddenly last night, signore, and the Captain of
the Port has sent to inquire whether you know to what port she is
bound."
"Left!" I gasped in amazement "Why, I thought her engines were
disabled!"
A quarter of an hour later I was sitting in the private office of the
shrewd, gray-haired functionary who had sent this messenger to me.
"Do you know, Signor Commendatore," he said, "some mystery surrounds
that vessel. She is not the _Lola_, for yesterday we telegraphed to
Lloyd's, in London, and this morning I received a reply that no such
yacht appears on their register, and that the name is unknown. The
police have also telegraphed to your English police inquiring about the
owner, Signor Hornby, with a like result. There is no such place as
Woodcroft Park, in Somerset, and no member of Brook's Club of the name
of Hornby."
I sat staring at the official, too amazed to utter a word. Certainly
they had not allowed the grass to grow beneath their feet.
"Unfortunately the telegraphic replies from England are only to hand
this morning," he went on, "because just before two o'clock this morning
the harbor police, whom I specially ordered to watch the vessel, saw a
boat come to the wharf containing a man and woman. The pair were put
ashore, and walked away into the town, the woman seeming to walk with
considerable difficulty. The boat returned, and an hour after, to the
complete surprise of the two detectives, steam was suddenly got up and
the yacht turned and went straight out to sea."
"Leaving the man and the woman?"
"Leaving them, of course. They are probably still in the town. The
police are now searching for traces of them."
"But could not you have detained the vessel?" I suggested.
"Of course, had I but known I could have forbidden her departure. But as
her owner had presented himself at the Consulate, and was recognized as
a respectable person, I felt that I could not interfere without some
tangible information--and that, alas! has come too late. The vessel is
a swift one, and has already seven hours start of us. I've asked the
Admiral to send out a couple of torpedo-boats after her, but,
unfortunately, this is impossible, as the flotilla is sailing in an hour
to attend the naval review at Spezia."
I told him how the Consul's safe had been opened during the night, and
he sat listening with wide-open eyes.
"You dined with them last night," he said at last. "They may have
surreptitiously stolen your keys."
"They may," was my answer. "Probably they did. But with what motive?"
The Captain of the Port elevated his shoulders, exhibited his palms, and
declared--
"The whole affair from beginning to end is a complete and profound
mystery."
CHAPTER II
WHY THE SAFE WAS OPENED
That day was an active one in Questura, or police office, of Leghorn.
Detectives called, examined the safe, and sagely declared it to be
burglar-proof, had not the thieves possessed the key. The Foreign Office
knew that, for they supply all the safes to the Consulates abroad, in
order that the precious ciphers shall be kept from the prying eyes of
foreign spies. The Questore, or chief of police, was of opinion that it
was the ciphers of which the thieves had been in search, and was much
relieved to hear that they were in safekeeping far away in Downing
Street.
His conjecture was the same as my own, namely, that the reason of
Hornby's call upon me was to ascertain the situation of the Consulate
and the whereabouts of the safe, which, by the way, stood in a corner of
the Consul's private room. Captain Mackintosh, too, had taken his
bearings, and probably while I sat at dinner on board the _Lola_ my keys
had been stolen and passed on to the scarred Scotsman, who had promptly
gone ashore and ransacked the place while I had remained with his master
smoking and unsuspicious.
But what was the motive? Why had they ransacked all those confidential
papers?
My own idea was that they were not in search of the ciphers at all, but
either wanted some blank form or other, or else they desired to make use
of the Consular seal. The latter, however, still remained on the floor
near the safe, as though it had rolled out and been left unheeded. As
far as Francesco and I could ascertain, nothing whatever had been taken.
Therefore, we re-arranged the papers, re-locked the safe and resolved
not to telegraph to Hutcheson and unduly disturb him, as in a few days
he would return from England, and there would be time enough then to
explain the remarkable story.
One fact, however, we established. The detective on duty at the railway
station distinctly recollected a thin middle-aged man, accompanied by a
lady in deep black, passing the barrier and entering the train which
left at three o'clock for Colle Salvetti to join the Rome express. They
were foreigners, therefore he did not take the same notice of them as
though they had been Italians. Inquiries at the booking-office showed,
however, that no passengers had booked direct to Rome by the train in
question. To Grossetto, Cecina, Campiglia, and the other places in the
Maremma, passengers had taken tickets, but not one had been booked to
any of the great towns. Therefore it was apparent that the mysterious
pair who had come ashore just prior to the sailing of the yacht had
merely taken tickets for a false destination, and had re-booked at Colle
Salvetti, the junction with that long main line which connects Genoa
with Rome.
The police were puzzled. The two fishermen who sighted the _Lola_ and
first gave the alarm of her danger, declared that when they drew
alongside and proffered assistance the captain threatened to shoot the
first man who came aboard.
"They were English!" remarked the sturdy, brown-faced toilers of the
sea, grinning knowingly. "And the English, when they drink their cognac,
know not what they do."
"Did you get any reward for returning to harbor and reporting?" I
asked.
"Reward!" echoed one of the men, the elder of the pair. "Not a soldo!
The English only cursed us for interfering. That is why we believed that
they were trying to make away with the vessel."
The description of the _Lola_, its owner, his guest, and the captain
were circulated by the police to all the Mediterranean ports, with a
request that the yacht should be detained. Yet if the vessel were really
one of mystery, as it seemed to be, its owner would no doubt go across
to some quiet anchorage on the Algerian coast out of the track of the
vessels, and calmly proceed to repaint, rename and disguise his craft so
that it would not be recognized in Marseilles, Naples, Smyrna, or any of
the ports where private yachts habitually call. Thus, from the very
first, it seemed to me that Hornby and his friends had very cleverly
tricked me for some mysterious purpose, and afterwards ingeniously
evaded their watchers and got clean away.
Had the Italian Admiral been able to send a torpedo-boat or two after
the fugitives they would no doubt soon have been overhauled, yet
circumstances had prevented this and the _Lola_ had consequently
escaped.
For purposes of their own the police kept the affair out of the papers,
and when Frank Hutcheson stepped out of the sleeping-car from Paris on
to the platform at Pisa a few nights afterwards, I related to him the
extraordinary story.
"The scoundrels wanted these, that's evident," he responded, holding up
the small, strong, leather hand-bag he was carrying, and which contained
his jealously-guarded ciphers. "By Jove!" he laughed, "how disappointed
they must have been!"
"It may be so," I said, as we entered the midnight train for Leghorn.
"But my own theory is that they were searching for some paper or other
that you possess."
"What can my papers concern them?" exclaimed the jovial, round-faced
Consul, a man whose courtesy is known to every skipper trading up and
down the Mediterranean, and who is perhaps one of the most cultured and
popular men in the British Consular Service. "I don't keep bank notes in
that safe, you know. We fellows in the Service don't roll in gold as our
public at home appears to think."
"No. But you may have something in there which might be of value to
them. You're often the keeper of valuable documents belonging to
Englishmen abroad, you know."