The Golden Bough. Gibbs George
the fountain heads of German intrigue have been destroyed."
"Diverted, let us say, Monsieur-upon the surface. But the evil stream still flows-secretly, below the ground, to appear in high places where least expected."
Rowland rose and threw his cigarette into the hearth.
"I have no doubt that what you say is true, Monsieur Khodkine. I am not wise. If I am to be of service here" – Rowland paused significantly, until he found Khodkine's gaze-"if I am to be of service here, I must trust myself into the hands of those who have a deeper insight into the politics of Europe than myself. I have promised Mademoiselle Korasov to stay at Nemi and do what I can. I would like to help." He paused again and then, with an air of frankness: "Perhaps, Monsieur Khodkine, I could do no better than to entrust myself into your hands."
Khodkine turned half toward him, his fine white teeth showing in a smile and then thrust forth a hand in confirmation.
"Can it be that you will trust me?"
"Implicitly."
Khodkine's pale eyes glowed with purpose.
"Ah, that is good, Monsieur Rowlan'. It seems that the hand which guides the destiny of Nemi is still unerring." And then more quietly, "You know what power is yours to command?"
"Mademoiselle Korasov has told me something, – but with skillful advisers-
"All will be well, Monsieur. But you will have many advisers. They are coming here today, but you must select the wheat from the chaff. I shall tell you whom to trust. Russia must be born again. You shall help her in the pains of birth-save her from the malevolent hands which threaten to throttle her in the very act of being."
"It is a great destiny you plan, Monsieur. The society of Nemi may be powerful, but I can hardly believe that such a powerful autocracy as Germany-"
"Tst-Monsieur! You have heard some of the rumblings in the Reichstag. Liebknecht the elder blazed the way. His son has followed-"
"Oh, yes, Liebknecht. I've heard-"
"Only the military might of Germany holds the nation intact, but even in its might it trembles. Nemi is strong in Germany. In many regiments the socialists have revolted and in the navy-mutiny. Those men realize that there is a force let loose into the world, before which the selfish aims of the rulers of the countries of the earth are as chaff in the wind. Not one nation shall rule, or several, but all-Monsieur. All! Internationalism-! Do you know what that means?"
And as Rowland remained silent, as though in deep thought, Khodkine threw his long arms out in a wide gesture.
"You shall see. The time comes soon-"
"And you will help me, Monsieur?" Rowland asked urbanely.
"With all my heart and intelligence."
Khodkine smiled and the two men clasped hands. Monsieur Khodkine's hands were very white and as smooth as a woman's, but there was strength in the sinew beneath. Internationalism! A fine word! which might mean anything… If this man were Rowland's enemy, at least he should not start with any advantage. The new Leader of Nemi was learning, still moving in the dark, for the names of those who had come into power in Russia, Lvoff, Rodzianko-and the others had seemed to stand for all that was best in the interests of free government. And so he had led Monsieur Khodkine out, that he might inspect, in profile, as it were, the motives which underlay his politics. As yet nothing definite-only a suspicion. As to the sincerity of his beliefs in the ritual of Nemi, Rowland was soon enlightened.
"You are a practical man, Monsieur Rowland," Khodkine went on easily. "You are no doubt mystified by the curious sequence of events which have brought you here to Nemi, as titular head of this great and secret order. But I too am a practical man, and I will be frank with you. I care nothing for symbols. Whatever the society of Nemi is in the minds of its legion of followers, to me it is merely a means to a great end-the safety and peace of all Europe. The fulfillment of the promises of the legend is extraordinary-almost incredible, but neither you nor I as men of the world can believe that it comes from any supernatural agency. Kirylo Ivanitch was immolated upon the altar of his own fears, a sacrifice to his own superstition. He killed the Priest who preceded him. For years his Nemesis, a true Nemesis, my friend, has pursued him. But you, Monsieur, must permit no such doubts to poison your usefulness."
"Why should I," laughed Rowland. "A man attacks me, stabs me with a knife. If he is killed, is it my fault? My conscience is clear."
"Good. Then we understand each other." He broke off with a shrug.
"As to the ritual of Nemi. There is a strength in mysticism, a fact which the vile Rasputin was not long in finding out. A little ceremonial does no harm and you, Monsieur, must play your part with skill and some caution."
"By all means," said Rowland, with a laugh. "Until the new priest of Nemi shall find me out. Then at least I assure you that I shall not stand on ceremony."
"Ah, as to that, you may reassure yourself," said Khodkine, easily. "A Miracle such as this may sometime happen by chance, but not twice in one generation."
"At least," Rowland concluded cheerfully, "you may be sure that I am not afraid."
"Perhaps it is well that we have a soldier at Nemi," said Khodkine with a smile. And then after a pause-"Tell me, Monsieur. Did Mademoiselle Korasov commit to your keeping any documents-any papers?"
"None," lied Rowland coolly. "As you know, this affair has happened so recently-"
"There were no papers found upon the body of Monsieur Ivanitch?"
"If they have not been removed by Issad or Stepan, they should be upon his body now."
"Ah! I will inquire." And getting up quickly, Monsieur Khodkine made his way out of the room in the direction of the adjoining apartment.
Tanya, a warning finger to her lips, joined Rowland immediately. It seemed that she must have been near the door, waiting for the chance to speak with him alone.
"You were careful?" she asked.
"As careful as a person may be who walks on a floor carpeted with egg-shells," said Rowland with a smile.
"He asked if I had told you anything, given you anything?"
Rowland nodded.
"He has gone to search the body," he said.
"For the paper I gave you," whispered Tanya. "I found it in the pocket-book of Kirylo Ivanitch. I took it-there in the garden as I knelt beside him. You have committed it to memory?"
"Yes. Droite 72 Gauche 23 Droite 7-"
"Sh-! You can remember it?"
"Yes."
"Then destroy it quickly."
Rowland struck a match, lighted the scrap of paper and threw it into the hearth. She went toward the door, stood in a tense moment of listening and then quickly returned.
"Do not trust him, Monsieur, and be upon your guard against him always. For the present nothing more. I shall contrive to meet you tonight."
She walked to the chair which Monsieur Khodkine had left and motioned Rowland to another, and then raising her voice, spoke easily in a conversational tone of the members of the Council who were to join them later in the day. A few moments later Monsieur Khodkine, his brows troubled in thought, came into the room.
"You found nothing?" asked Tanya.
"His watch, the talisman, some keys, a little money. Nothing else."
"What was it you were looking for, Monsieur?" enquired Rowland.
Khodkine glanced at Tanya and shrugged.
"A memorandum-it does not matter."
CHAPTER VI
ZOYA
During the afternoon other members of the Council of Nemi reached the village and arrived at the gate in the wall where Issad, clad in his dark robes and sensible of his own importance, greeted them with all solemnity and conducted them to the house where Tanya Korasov, Khodkine and Rowland received them. First, Shestov, who was