The International Spy. Upward Allen
had the name of this dangerous and desperate woman passed my lips than I regretted having uttered it.
Had I foreseen the perils to which I exposed myself by that single slip I might have hesitated in going on with my enterprise.
As it was I determined to tell the Marquis of Bedale nothing more.
“This business is too urgent to admit of a moment’s unnecessary delay,” I declared, rising to my feet. “If your lordship has no further instructions to give me, I will leave you.”
“One instant!” cried Lord Bedale. “On arriving in Petersburg you will go straight to report yourself to her majesty the Empress Dagmar.”
I bowed my head to conceal the expression which might have told his lordship that I intended to do nothing of the kind.
“Your credentials,” he added with a touch of theatricality, “will consist of a single word.”
“And that word?” I inquired.
He handed me a sealed envelope.
“I do not myself know it. It is written on a piece of paper inside that envelope, and I have to ask you to open the envelope, read the word, and then destroy the paper in my presence.”
I shrugged my shoulders as I proceeded to break the seal. But no sooner did my eyes fall on the word within, and above all on the handwriting in which that word was written, than I experienced a sensation of admiring pleasure.
“Tell the writer, if you please, my lord, that I am grateful for this mark of confidence, which I shall endeavor to deserve.”
I rolled up the paper into a tiny pellet, swallowed it, and left the room and the Palace without uttering another word.
CHAPTER II
THE PRINCESS Y – ’S HINT
I never use the same stratagem more than once. It is to this rule that I attribute my success.
On previous missions to Russia I assumed the disguises of a French banker, of the private secretary to Prince Napoleon, of an emissary from an Indian Maharaja, and of an Abyssinian Maduga.
I now decided to go thither as an Englishman, or rather – for there is a distinction between the two – as a Little Englander.
It appeared to me that no character could be more calculated to gain me the confidence of the Anglophobes of the Russian Court. I anticipated that they would smother me with attentions, and that from their hypocritical professions I should stand a good chance of learning what was actually in their minds.
No sooner had I taken this decision, which was while the brougham was being driven along the Mall, than I gave the order “ – House.”
I was driven to the office of a well known review conducted by a journalist of boundless philanthropy and credulity. Mr. Place – as I will call him – was within, and I at once came to business.
“I am a Peace Crusader,” I announced. “I have devoted myself to the sacred cause of which you are the foremost champion. At present war is threatened in the Far East. I am going to Russia to persuade the war party to abandon their designs. I have come here to ask you for your aid and countenance in this pious enterprise.”
The editor gave me a doubtful glance.
“If it is a question of financial aid,” he said not very encouragingly, “I must refer you to the treasurer of the World’s Peace League. I am afraid our friends – ”
“No, no,” I interrupted him. “It is not a question of funds. I am a wealthy man, and if you need a subscription at any time you have only to apply to me. What I desire is your moral support, your valuable advice, and perhaps a few introductions to the friends of peace in the Russian capital.”
The editor’s face brightened.
“Of course!” he exclaimed in cordial tones. “I will support you with all my heart. I will write up your mission in the Review, and I will give you as many introductions as you need. What is your name, again?”
“Sterling. Mr. Melchisadek Sterling.”
The philanthropist nodded and touched a bell on his table.
“I will give you a letter,” he said, as his secretary came in and seated herself at the typewriter, “to the noblest creature I have ever met, a woman of high birth and immense fortune who has devoted herself to the cause.”
And turning ’round in his chair he dictated to the attentive secretary:
“My dear Princess Y– ”
It needed all that command over my features which it has taken me twenty years to acquire to conceal the emotion with which I heard this name. Less than half an hour had passed since I had warned Lord Bedale that the Princess would be the most formidable enemy in my path, and now, on the very threshold of my enterprise, her name confronted me like an omen.
I need not repeat the highly colored phrases in which the unsuspecting philanthropist commended me to this artful and formidable woman as a fellow-worker in the holy cause of human brotherhood.
Not content with this service, the editor wanted to arrange a meeting of his league or brotherhood, or whatever it was, to give me a public send-off. As I understood that the meeting would partake of a religious character I could not bring myself to accept the offer.
In addition to the letter to the Princess Y – , he gave me another to a member of the staff of the Russian Embassy in London, a M. Gudonov. He also urged me to call upon a member of Parliament, a rising politician who is not unlikely to have a ministerial post in the next government, and who has made himself known as an apologist of the Czar’s. But as I had good reason to know that this gentleman was by no means a disinterested dupe, like Mr. Place, I prudently left him alone.
On going to the Russian Embassy to have my passport viséd I inquired for M. Gudonov.
The moment he entered the room I recognized him as one of the most unscrupulous agents of the notorious Third Section, one of the gang who drugged and kidnapped poor Alexander of Bulgaria. My own disguise, it is hardly necessary to say, was impenetrable.
This precious apostle of peace greeted me with unction, on the editor’s introduction.
“You are going to our country on a truly noble errand,” he declared, with tears in his eyes. “We Russians have reason to feel grateful to worthy Englishmen like you, who can rise above national prejudices and do justice to the benevolent designs of the Czar and his advisers.”
“I hope that I may be instrumental in averting a great catastrophe,” I said piously.
“Even if you fail in preventing war,” the Russian replied, “you will be able to tell your countrymen when you return, that it was due to the insane ambition of the heathen Japanese. It is the ‘Yellow Peril,’ my friend, to which that good Emperor William has drawn attention, from which we are trying to save Europe.”
I nodded my head as if well satisfied.
“Whatever you and your friends in Petersburg tell me, I shall believe,” I assured him. “I am convinced of the good intention of your Government.”
The Russian fairly grinned at this simplicity.
“You cannot find a more trustworthy informant than the Princess Y – ,” he said gravely. “And just now she is in a position to know a very great deal.”
“How so?” I asked naturally – not that I doubted the statement.
“The Princess has just been appointed a lady-in-waiting to her imperial majesty the Dowager Empress Dagmar.”
This was a serious blow. Knowing what I did of the past of Princess Y – , I felt that no ordinary pressure must have been brought to bear to secure her admission into the household of the Czaritza. And with what motive? It was a question to which there could be only one answer. The War Party had guessed or suspected that the Czar’s mother was opposed to them, and they had resolved to place a spy on her actions.
Inwardly