The Czar's Spy: The Mystery of a Silent Love
continuing, he went on fiercely: "Now that I have discovered why my poor
Armida was killed, I will tell the truth, and not spare them. Since you
left Scotland, signore, I have been up in Dumfries, and have discovered
several facts which prove that for some reason known only to himself,
Leithcourt, while at Rannoch, wrote to both Armida and myself
separately, making an appointment to see us at the same time at that
spot on the edge of the wood, as he had some secret commission to
entrust to us. The letter addressed to me apparently fell into someone
else's hands--probably one of the secret agents of Baron Oberg, who were
always watching Leithcourt's doings, and he, anxious to learn what was
intended, made himself up to look like me, and kept the appointment in
my place. Armida, having received the letter unknown to me, went up to
Scotland, and was also there at the appointed time. What actually
transpired can only be surmised, yet it seems that Leithcourt was in the
habit of going up to that spot and loitering there in the evening in
order to meet Chater in secret, as the latter was in hiding in a small
hotel in Dumfries. Therefore those who formed the plot must have
endeavored to throw suspicion upon Leithcourt. It is plain, however, as
both myself and Armida knew the gang, it was to their interest to get
rid of us, because the suspicions of the police had at last become
aroused. Poor Armida was therefore deliberately enticed there to her
death, while the inquisitive man whom the assassin took to be myself was
also struck down."
"By whom?"
"Not by Chater, for he was in London on that night."
"Then by Woodroffe?" Durnford said.
"Without a doubt. It was all most cleverly thought out. It was to his
advantage alone to close our lips, because in that same fatal chair in
Lambeth old Jacob Moser, the Jew bullion-broker of Hatton Garden, met
his death--a most dastardly crime, with which none of his friends were
associated, and of which we alone held knowledge. He therefore wrote to
us as though from Leithcourt, calling us up to Rannoch, in order to
strike the blows in the darkness," he added in his peculiar Italian
manner. "Besides, he feared we would tell the signore the truth."
"You have not told the police?"
"I dare not, signore. Surely the less the police know about this matter
the better, otherwise the Signorina Leithcourt must suffer for her
father's avarice and evil-doing."
"Yes," cried Jack anxiously. "That's right, Olinto. The police must know
nothing. The reprisals we must make ourselves. But who was it who shot
me in Suffolk Street?"
"The same man, Martin Woodroffe."
"Then the assassin is back from Russia?"
"He followed closely behind the Signor Commendatore. Markoff, a clever
secret agent of Baron Oberg's, came with him."
Then for the first time I recollected that the man I had recognized in
the Strand was a fellow I had seen lounging in the ante-room of the
palace of the Governor-General of Finland. The pair, fearing that I
should reveal what I knew, were undoubtedly in London to take my life in
secret. Now that Leithcourt was dead, Woodroffe had united forces with
Oberg, and intended to silence me because they feared that Elma, besides
escaping them, had also revealed her secret.
"I trust that the Signorina Leithcourt has explained the story of the
yacht and its crew," Olinto remarked. "And has also shown you how I was
implicated. You will therefore discern the reason why I have hitherto
feared to give you any explanation."
"Yes," I said, "Miss Leithcourt has told me a great deal, but not
everything. I cannot yet gather for what reason she and her father fled
from Rannoch."
"Then I will tell you," said Muriel quickly. "My father suspected
Woodroffe of being the assassin in Rannoch Wood, for he knew that he had
broken away from the original compact, and had now allied himself with
Oberg. Yet it was also my father's object to appear in fear of them,
because he was only awaiting an opportunity to lay plans for poor Elma's
rescue from Finland. Therefore one evening Woodroffe called, and my
father encountered him in the avenue, and admitted him with his own
latchkey by one of the side doors of the castle, afterwards taking him
up to the study. He knew that he had come to try and make terms for
Oberg, therefore he saw that he must fly at once to Newcastle, where the
_Iris_ was lying, get on board, and sail away.
"With some excuse he left him in the study, and then warned my mother
and myself to prepare to leave. But while we were packing, it appeared
that Chater, who had followed, was shown into the study by the butler,
or rather he entered there himself, being well acquainted with the
house. Thus the two men, now bitter enemies, met. A fierce quarrel must
have ensued, and Chater was poisoned and concealed, Woodroffe, of
course, believing he had killed him. My father entered the study again,
and seeing only Woodroffe there, did not know what had occurred. Some
words probably arose, when my father again turned and left. Then we fled
to Carlisle and on to Newcastle, and next morning were on board the
yacht out in the North Sea, afterwards landing at Rotterdam. Those," she
added, "are briefly the facts, as my poor father related them to me."
"And what of poor Elma--and of her secret? When, I wonder, shall I see
her?" I cried in despair.
"You will see her now, signore," answered Olinto. "A servant of the
Princess Zurloff brought her to London this afternoon, and I have just
conveyed her from the station. She is in the next room, in ignorance,
however, that you are here."
And without another word I fled forward joyfully, and threw open the
folding-doors which separated me from my silent love.
Silent, yes! But she could, nevertheless, tell her story--surely the
strangest that any woman has ever lived to tell.
CHAPTER XVIII
CONTAINS ELMA'S STORY
Before me stood my love, a slim, tragic, rather wan figure in a heavy
dark traveling-coat and felt toque, her sweet lips parted and a look of
bewildered amazement upon her countenance as I burst in so suddenly upon
her.
In silence I grasped her tiny black-gloved hand, and then, also in
silence, raised it passionately to my eager lips. Her soft, dark
eyes--those eyes that spoke although she was mute--met mine, and in them
was a look that I had never seen there before--a look which as plainly
as any words told me that my wild fevered passion was reciprocated.
She gazed beyond into the room where the others had assembled, and then
looked at me inquiringly, whereupon I led her forward to where they
were, and Muriel fell upon her and kissed her with tears streaming from
her eyes.
"I prepared this surprise for you, Mr. Gregg," Muriel said, laughing
through her tears of joy. "Olinto learnt that she was on her way to
London, and I sent him to meet her. The Princess has managed
magnificently, has she not?"
"Yes. Thank God she is free!" I exclaimed. "But we must induce her to
tell us everything."
Muriel was already helping my love out of her heavy Russian coat, a
costly garment lined with sable, and when, after greeting Jack and
Olinto, she was comfortably seated, I took some notepaper from the
little writing-table by the window and scribbled in pencil the words:
"I need not write how delighted I am that you are safe--that the
Almighty has heard my prayers for you. Jack and Muriel have told me all
about Leithcourt and his scoundrelly associates. I know, too, dear--for
I may call you that, may I not?--how terribly you must have suffered in
silence through it all. Leithcourt is dead. He sank the yacht with all
the stolen property on board, but by accident was himself engulfed."
Bending and watching intently as I wrote, she drew back in horror and
surprise at the words. Then I added: "We are all four determined that
the guilty shall not go unpunished, and that the affliction placed upon
you shall be adequately avenged. You are my own love--I am bold enough
to call you so. Some strong but mysterious bond of affinity between us
caused me to seek you out, and your pictured face seemed to call me to
your side although I was unaware of your peril. I was sent to you by the
unseen power to extricate you from the hands of your enemies. Therefore
tell us everything--all that you know--without fear, for now that we are
united no harm can assail us."
She took the pencil, and holding it in her white fingers sat staring
first at us, and then looking hesitatingly at the white paper before
her. Her position, amid a hundred conflicting emotions, was one of
extreme difficulty. It seemed as though even now she was loth to reveal
to us the absolute truth.
Muriel, standing behind her chair, tenderly stroked back the wealth of
chestnut hair from her white brow. Her complexion was perfect, even
though her face was pale and jaded, and her eyes heavy, consequent upon
her long, weary journey from the now frozen North.
Presently, when by signs both Jack and Olinto had urged her to write,
she bent suddenly, and her pencil began to run swiftly over the paper.
All of us stood exchanging glances in silence, neither looking over her,
but each determined to wait in patience until the end. Once started,
however, she did not pause. Sheet after sheet she covered. The silence
for a long time was complete, broken only by the rapid running of the
pencil over the rough surface of the paper. She had apparently become
seized by a sudden determination to explain everything, now that she saw
we were in real, dead earnest.
I watched her sweet face bent so intently, and as the firelight fell
across it found it incomparable. Yes; she was afflicted by loss of
speech, it was true, yet she was surely inexpressibly sweet and womanly,
peerless above all others.
With a deep-drawn sigh she at last finished, and, her head still bowed
in an attitude of humiliation, it seemed, she handed what she had
written to me.
In breathless eagerness I read as follows:
"Is it true, dear love--for I call you so in return--that you were
impelled towards me by the mysterious hand that directs all things? You
came in search of me, and you risked your life for mine at Kajana,
therefore you have a right to know the truth. You, as my champion, and
the Princess as my friend, have contrived to effect my freedom. Were it
not for you, I should ere this have been on my way to Saghalien, to the
tomb to which Oberg had so ingeniously contrived to consign me. Ah! you
do not know--you never can know--all that I have suffered ever since I
was a girl."
Here the statement broke off, and recommenced as follows:
"In order that you should understand the truth, I had better begin at
the beginning. My father was an English merchant in Petersburg, and my
mother, Vera Bessanoff, who, before her marriage with my father, was
celebrated at Court for her beauty, and was one of the maids-of-honor to
the Czarina. She was the only daughter of Count Paul Bessanoff,
ex-Governor of Kharkoff, and before marrying my father she had, with her
mother, been a well-known figure in society. Immediately after her
marriage her father died, leaving her in possession of an ample fortune,
which, with my father's own wealth, placed them among the richest and
most influential in Petersburg.
"Among my father's most intimate friends was Baron Xavier Oberg--who, at
that time, held a very subordinate position in the Ministry of the
Interior--and from my earliest recollections I can remember him coming
frequently to our house and being invited to the brilliant
entertainments which my mother gave. When I was thirteen, however, my
father died of a chill contracted while boar-hunting on his estate in
Kiev, and within a few months a further disaster happened to us. One