The Red Symbol

by John Ironside

  CHAPTER XXXII

  BACK TO RUSSIA ONCE MORE

  Two days later I saw Lord Southbourne, and resigned my position as amember of his staff. I felt myself mean in one way, when I thought ofhow he had backed me right through that murder business,--and before it,when he set Freeman on my track.

  He showed neither surprise nor annoyance; in fact he seemed, ifanything, more nonchalant than usual.

  "Well, of course you know your own affairs best. I haven't any use formen who cultivate interests outside their work; and you've done thestraight thing in resigning now that you 'here a duty divided doperceive,' as I heard a man say the other day."

  "Von Eckhardt!" I exclaimed.

  "Guessed it first time," he drawled. "Could any one else in this worldgarble quotations so horribly? If he would only give 'em in German theywould be more endurable, but he insists on exhibiting his English. Bythe way, he has relinquished his vendetta."

  "That on Carson's account?"

  "Yes, he believes the murderer, or murderers, must have been wiped outin that affair where you came to grief so signally. He had heard aboutit before he saw your stuff, though no official account was allowed toget through; and he gave me some rather interesting information, quitegratuitously."

  "Does it concern me, or--any one I know?" I asked, steadying my voicewith an effort.

  "Well, not precisely; since you only know the lady by repute, and by herportrait."

  I remembered that Von Eckhardt was the one person besides myself who wasaware of Anne's identity, which I had betrayed to him in that oneunguarded moment at Berlin, for which I had reproached myself eversince. True, before I parted from him, I had exacted a promise that hewould never reveal the fact that he knew her English name; never mentionit to any one. But he was an erratic and forgetful individual; he mighthave let the truth out to Southbourne, but the latter's face, as Iwatched it, revealed nothing.

  "Oh, that mysterious and interesting individual," I said indifferently."Do you mind telling what he said about her?"

  "Not at all. It appears that he admires her enthusiastically, in a quiteimpersonal sort of way--high-flown and sentimental. He's a typicalGerman! He says she is back in Russia, with her father or uncle. Shebelongs to the Vassilitzi family, Poles who have been politicalintriguers for generations, and have suffered accordingly. They'reactively engaged in repairing the damage done to their precious Societyin that incident you know of, when all the five who formed theexecutive, and held and pulled the strings, were either killed orarrested."

  This was startling news enough, and it was not easy to maintain thenon-committal air of mild interest that I guessed to be the safest.Still I think I did manage it.

  "That's queer," I remarked. "He said the Society had turned against her,condemned her to death."

  Southbourne shrugged his shoulders slightly.

  "I'm only repeating what he told me. Thought you might like to hear it.She must be an energetic young woman; wish I had her on my staff. If youshould happen to meet her you can tell her so. I'd give her any termsshe liked to ask."

  Was he playing with me,--laughing at me? I could not tell.

  "All right, I'll remember; though if she's in Russia it's very unlikelythat I shall ever see her in the flesh," I said coolly. "Did he say justwhere she was? Russia's rather vague."

  "No. Shouldn't wonder if she wasn't Warsaw way. McIntyre--he's atPetersburg in your place--says they're having no end of ructions there,and asked if he should go down,--but it's not worth the risk. He's agood man, a safe one, but he's not the sort to get stuff through indefiance of the censor, though he's perfectly willing to face any amountof physical danger. So I told him not to go; especially as we shan'twant any more sensational Russian stuff at present; unless--well, ofcourse, if you should happen on any good material, you can send italong; for I presume you are not going over to Soper, eh?"

  "Of course I'm not!" I said with some warmth. Soper was chief proprietorof several newspapers in direct opposition to the group controlled bySouthbourne, and he certainly had made me more than one advantageousoffer,--the latest only a week or two back, just after my Russianarticles appeared in _The Courier_.

  "I didn't suppose you were, though I know he wants you," Southbournerejoined. "I should rather like to know what you are up to; but it'syour own affair, of course, and you're quite right to keep your owncounsel. Anyhow, good luck to you, and good-bye, for the present."

  I was glad the interview was over, though it left me in ignorance as tohow much he knew or suspected about my movements and motives. I guessedit to be a good deal; or why had he troubled to tell me the news he hadheard from Von Eckhardt? If it were true, if Anne were no longer indanger from her own party, and was again actively associated with it,her situation was at least less perilous than it had been before, whenshe was threatened on every side. And also my chances of getting intocommunication with her were materially increased.

  I related what I had learned to Mishka, who made no comment beyond agrunt which might mean anything or nothing.

  "Do you think it is true?"

  "Who knows? It is over a fortnight since I left; and many things mayhappen in less time. Perhaps we shall learn when we return, perhapsnot."

  In some ways Mishka was rather like a Scotsman.

  A few days later his preparations were complete. The real or ostensibleobject of his visit to England was to buy farm implements and machinery,as agent for his father, who, I ascertained, was land steward of part ofthe Zostrov estates, and therefore a person of considerable importance.That fact, in a way, explained Mishka's position, which I have beforedefined as that of "confidential henchman." I found later that thefather, as the son, was absolutely devoted to their master, who in histurn trusted them both implicitly. They were the only two about himwhom he could so trust, for, as he had once told me, he was surroundedby spies.

  Mishka's business rendered my re-entry into the forbidden land an easilyarranged matter. Several of the machines he bought were Americanpatents, and my role was that of an American mechanic in charge of them.As a matter of fact I do know a good deal about such things; and I hadnever forgotten the apprenticeship to farming I had served under myfather in the old home. Poor old dad! As long as he lived he neverforgave me for turning my back on the farm and taking to journalism,after my college course was over. He was all the more angry with mebecause, as he said, in the vacation I worked better than any twolaborers; as I did,--there's no sense in doing things by halves!

  It would have been a very spry Russian who had recognized Maurice Wynn,the physical wreck that had left Russia in the custody of two Britishpolice officers less than three months back, in "William P. Gould," abearded individual who spoke no Russian and only a little German, andwhose passport--issued by the American Minister and duly _vised_ by theRussian Ambassador in London--described him as a native of Chicago.

  Also we travelled by sea, from Hull to Riga, taking the gear along withus; which in itself minimized the chance of detection.

  We were to travel by rail from Riga to Wilna, via Dunaburg; and the restof the journey, rather over than under a hundred and twenty miles, mustbe by road, riding or driving. From Wilna the goods we were taking wouldfollow us under a military escort.

  "How's that?" I asked, when Mishka told me of this. "Who's going tosteal a couple of wagon-loads of farm things?"

  His reply was enigmatic.

  "You think you know something of Russia, because you've seen Petersburgand Moscow, and have never been more than ten miles from a railroad.Well, you are going to know something more now; not much, perhaps, butit may teach you that those who keep to the railroad see only the frothof a seething pot. We know what is in the pot, but you, and others likeyou, do not; therefore you wonder that the froth is what it is."

  A seething pot. The time soon came when I remembered his simile, andacknowledged its truth; and I knew then that that pot was filled withhell-broth!