CHAPTER IX.
LITIZKI'S LESSON.
There had been no scuffle and almost no noise as the tailor fell tothe floor, but one of the chamber doors opened, nevertheless, and astartled voice asked: "What's that?"
"Sorry you've been disturbed," said Poubalov; "a friend of mine, with alittle more of a load than he could manage, has stumbled. That's all. Iwill look out for him."
The inquirer went back to bed grumbling, and as soon as the door closedPoubalov whispered in Russian: "Will you keep quiet, or shall I have toquiet you?" and he removed his hand from Litizki's mouth.
"It's all one to me, Alexander Poubalov," muttered the tailor, and,feeling the pressure removed, he rose to his feet. Still speakingRussian, the spy remarked:
"You are so good at finding your way in the dark that I will not pullthe slide of my lantern. I should dislike, for your sake, to have yourecognized. Go down and enter my room."
Litizki felt for the banister, and, guided by it, walked down theflight and opened the door, as directed, into his captor's room. WhenPoubalov came in he closed and bolted the door, then opened the lanternand let its rays fall on Litizki from head to feet, and head again, asif he were curiously studying the make-up. He laughed softly at lastand said:
"There's a chair just back of you. Sit down."
The tailor sank into it, and Poubalov lit the gas. In the general lightLitizki saw that the spy was fully dressed save for his coat, and thatthe folding bed which was a feature of the furniture had not been letdown. Poubalov noticed Litizki's glance and understood:
"No, my friend," he said suavely, "I did not go to bed. I expected you,and sat up to receive you."
Litizki groaned. Until then he had hoped desperately that even as aprisoner he would be able to accomplish something; now, convincedthat the spy had prepared for his coming, he realized that his efforthad been in vain. The awful sense of the unshakable power this manrepresented and wielded came over him as it did in those gloomy daysin Russia when he had to choose between voluntary exile and certainbanishment.
Poubalov drew a chair to a little table in the middle of the room, andsat down opposite the tailor.
"Nicholas Litizki," he said, "you have surprised and grieved me! Iwould not have supposed that even a residence of several years inAmerica could have made you forget that Alexander Poubalov never takesa step until he is thoroughly prepared for it. I, who hardly know whatthe word emotion means, am almost hurt. Surely it must be that contactwith republican institutions deadens a man's sensibilities and affectshis memory."
Litizki's small eyes had been fixed upon those of his adversary fromthe beginning. They had relapsed to their customary dull expression,but they glowed faintly with new life, for, the first edge of hisdisappointment dulled, he recalled the two great purposes for whichhe had invaded the house: vengeance and the rescue of Ivan Strobel.Neither purpose might be lost, and if he must forego or postponevengeance, he would not prejudice what means others might have atcommand for saving his benefactor.
"Poubalov," said the tailor, "I am an American citizen."
"I bow to your discretion," responded the spy, "but I knew it. Youthink to hide behind the generous skirts of your adopted country'sgoddess. Good! I admit the efficacy of the refuge, for the accreditedagent of the czar--whom God preserve, Nicholas Litizki--will donothing in a friendly country in violation of that country's laws. Butsee, my friend, what a tower of strength a proper respect for the lawbecomes: I not only knew you were coming, but I knew what you werecoming for, and I need not say that I knew what way you would take.I have kept within the law, and yet I found out all about you andyour associates before I had been in Boston--no matter how long. Poorfellow! did you really think that Poubalov's eyes did not penetrateyour flimsy disguise? I am sorry, Litizki; your patience and devotionwould fit you for service in the holy cause of the czar, and it is notat all adapted to pursuing the steps of honest men."
"You do not frighten me," interposed Litizki; "I know your superlativecunning and your crooked ways. Your speech nauseates me. 'Honest men!'Bah!"
"We won't dispute over trifles, then. I simply call to your attentionthe fact that you unlawfully invade a dwelling-house, prowling aboutlike a common thief and thus place yourself unreservedly in my power.Of course, Nicholas Litizki did not enter here to commit theft. He cameto find his friend, Ivan Strobel."
"It is a lie, Alexander Poubalov! I sought him not."
"You know whether it is a lie, or not. So do I. Therefore we will notargue the matter. Well, what are you going to do now that you are here?"
Litizki boiled with futile rage. He was trapped not only literally asPoubalov's prisoner, but he felt how weak he was in any contest ofwords with this shrewd master of deceit. He had spoken truly in tellingPaul Palovna that it mattered not what became of him, and althoughthose words were uttered under the influence of a desire for vengeancethat constant dwelling upon had turned to conviction that he wouldsucceed, he now felt them to be as true, for he despaired, as he hadbeen despairing for years, of accomplishing anything that would beworth the doing. Why had he presumed to undertake the hopeless task ofoutwitting Poubalov? He saw how wildly foolish had been his course,but his conviction remained unshaken.
"Have it so, then," he hissed; "respect for law is not in yourcharacter. You have unlawfully taken possession of Ivan Strobel."
"Yes?" responded Poubalov quietly; "you are very sure of that?"
"I know it, yes; I did come here to find him, to liberate, ay, to killyou if need be!"
"Indeed! the same, familiar antagonism to the authority of Russia, Isuppose. The Russian agent is to you like the red flag to the bull.Yes, very interesting. Well, Litizki?"
"Alexander Poubalov!" exclaimed the tailor, rising and speaking withall his long-treasured bitterness, "you have Ivan Strobel, an Americancitizen, in your power; you restrain him illegally of his liberty, withwhat purpose it matters not. I, as an American citizen, demand that yourelease him."
Poubalov looked with mock admiration at the fierce but grotesque figurebefore him, and said:
"Good! very good! I am not certain but that demand is good law. I shallhave to think of it. When, Nicholas Litizki?"
"I cannot tolerate your smart language," returned Litizki; "give him upnow. It will be worse for you if you fool with me. You threw me down inthe dark because I was taken unawares. In the light I can make my ownfight, Alexander Poubalov! Come! Ivan Strobel is in that room, behindthat door, and if you have not stopped his ears as you have gagged hismouth and bound his limbs, he hears my voice now and knows it. I shouldbe less than man should I not take even a desperate step to rescue him,my friend, my benefactor!"
Even to the cynical spy the grotesqueness of the little tailor's figureand make-up disappeared in the exaltation up to which his emotions borehim. He took one determined stride toward the door to the little hallroom.
"Nicholas Litizki," said Poubalov, softly.
The tailor turned, such was the compelling power of that deep voice,and for the instant his progress was checked. Poubalov had extended onearm upon the table and his hand was toying with a revolver.
"I believe you, my friend," remarked the spy, hardly looking toward thetailor at first, but later concentrating his gleaming eyes upon him,"I believe you when you say by actions if not by words that you woulddie for your friend, and that you do not care what becomes of you. Butyou have some degree of cleverness, Litizki. We learned that years ago.Listen, then, just a moment before you lay hand upon that door. It islocked, Litizki. Before you could open it I could put a bullet throughyour heart. Would I not dare? What should a peaceable lodger not do toa man who stealthily enters his house by night? Who would disbelieveme if I should calmly report to the police that you came as a burglar,and that I shot at you in protection of property and life? Suppose,however, that I prefer to avoid a disturbance. Before you could morethan wrench the knob of that door once, I could pierce your heartsilently."
Poubalov rose and stood towerin
g over Litizki, a knife glistening inhis right hand.
"You know something of my resources," he continued, "and whether Iwould be likely to find difficulty in disposing of your lifelessbody. Why! you have come so secretly that you and I alone know ofyour whereabout. We would then have another disappearance to add tothe Strobel mystery, but one that would not be half as interesting,Litizki, not half."
"You have killed Ivan Strobel!" whispered Litizki, shrinking away.
"In that inference," said Poubalov, contemptuously, as he laid hisweapons on the table and resumed his seat, "your madness reaches itsclimax and you will speedily recover. You will not go to that doornow. You see how useless it would be. Live, and you may yet see yourfriend, may yet assist in liberating him. Understand me, NicholasLitizki: I have not come to this country for nothing. I have a missionto perform, and nothing shall prevent me from performing it, and in myown way."
"You will then keep Strobel a prisoner," muttered Litizki, "until youhave wrung from him by cruelty what you have come for?"
"I shall perform my mission. Now it would be perfectly easy for me toremove you, for you are making yourself an obstacle, a slight one, tomy plans. It pleases me better, however, that you should live, and youmay yet be an assistance to me. I will show you to the street doorwhenever you feel ready to depart."
Litizki shot a glance full of evil at his captor, but Poubalov ignoredit, and calmly lighted the inevitable cigarette.
"Very well, Alexander Poubalov," said Litizki after a moment, "you maylet me go, but expect no gratitude from me. I know only too well thatyou think to serve your foul purposes by my liberty, but, weak as Iam, I shall not rest until Strobel is restored to us or his fate madeknown, and even after that I shall pursue you! You teach me a lesson,Poubalov, a hard one, but I shall learn it."
"I hope you will. Life will be easier if you do. Must you go now?Permit me," and with a fine pretense at courtesy he unbolted the doorand accompanied Litizki to the street door, which he also opened.
"Good-night, Nicholas Litizki," he whispered as he withdrew again intothe house.
It was Litizki's purpose to go at once to the house where Paul Palovnalodged, rouse him, and tell him his experience, with all the admissionsthat Poubalov had seemed to make, and all the inferences that wereto be drawn from his remarks and innuendoes; but as he hurried alongin the cool night air he felt as if something were leaving him. Heslackened his pace, halted irresolutely, went on a few steps, and atlast leaned heavily against a building and struck his hand angrilyagainst his brow, muttering:
"Fool, fool!"
What was this sense of loss but a relief from the dominating influenceof Poubalov's stronger personality? There, with all his desperation,even at the height of his exaltation, when he seemed to tread theborder lands of heroism, he had halted at a single word from the spy.He had stood and listened to threats and sophistry, and had been movedby the one and convinced by the other.
No! he could not tell all this to Palovna, or to any other personexcept Strobel; to him, if he should ever return, he would make a fullconfession of his defeat. For the present he must keep it to himself,and if he would still do something to effect his vengeance and rescueStrobel, he must work in secret. And as he reflected that it was justthis course that Poubalov undoubtedly expected him to take, he groanedand slunk abashed and mortified to his lonely room.
In the early morning, without waiting to read newspapers, or submit tointerviews from reporters, should they call again at the house, Claraand Louise set forth to finish their search for the "second driver."Again they had a tedious, fruitless experience. Now and again it seemedmomentarily as if they had come upon a clew to the man, but Clara'skeen questions invariably brought them to the same disappointing end.By noon they had visited every livery stable in Boston.
"Don't think me unkind, Clara," ventured Louise, "but I fear we oughtto give this up. I don't know that I can say just why, for I sympathizewith you as deeply as ever, and, like you, I believe in Ivan; butsomehow I fear."
"There are the stables in Cambridge and Somerville," responded Clara,absently; "we haven't been there. Forgive me, dear! I didn't mean toignore what you said. We are both tired. I had meant to call at Mrs.White's before returning, but we will go home and rest, and see iffresh thinking will help us. There may be some word at home by thistime."
There was, indeed, some word at home. The servant reported thatDetective Bowker had called and would be glad to see Miss Hilman,should she care to go downtown during this afternoon; and there weremany letters from friends who had learned of her trouble. All exceptone were more or less sympathetic, but in more than one there was aveiled remonstrance against her taking such a vigorous and public partin the case.
The exception was unsigned and without date. It read:
"If Miss Hilman insists on being convinced with her own eyes that her 'lover' has been false, if she needs more proof to cause her to withdraw from the ridiculous attitude she has assumed, why doesn't she go to New York and find Lizzie White? The writer is certain that she would return fully satisfied."
The Mission of Poubalov Page 9
