CHAPTER XXI.
WHAT PAUL PALOVNA SAW.
Paul was not disheartened by his discovery, or by the landlady'scomment. He believed that she was telling the truth, and that the doorthat Litizki supposed to communicate with the little front room reallyopened into a huge closet, a convenience with which the old-fashionedhouse abounded. He had paid a week's rent, and he determined to getsome good out of it. Accordingly, he returned to his regular quarters,and packed a bag with personal effects, as if he were going upon ajourney. This he took down to the room in Bulfinch Place. He saw thelandlady again as he entered.
"By the way," he said, "is there any communication between my room andthe one in front?"
"No," she replied; "there's a door there that was put in years ago whena family occupied the whole of that floor, but it is nailed up. Itwon't open from either side, so you needn't be afraid. There's a veryquiet gentleman in the front room, so you won't be disturbed."
"All right, thanks," responded Paul, thinking that in due time he mightmake good use of the landlady's proclivity for gossip. He went to hisroom and studied the disused door attentively. There was a keyhole, butit was securely plugged. He lay upon the floor and peered under, butthe door came close down upon the threshold, and nothing was to be seen.
"It's a disagreeable expedient," he muttered, "but the end justifiesthe means in this case. I won't say anything to Miss Hilman about it,though."
He opened his bag and took out a gimlet that he had bought on the wayto his permanent room. Then he drew a chair to the door, stood uponit, and began to bore, starting at a level with his eyes, and slantingslightly downward. His notion was that Poubalov would not be so likelyto observe the tiny hole if it were a foot or two above his head as ifit were lower. For the same reason he bored very close to the edge ofa panel, and he took great care not to let the gimlet more than piercethe further side of the wood. It would never do to let any fresh dustshow on the carpet in Poubalov's room.
After frequent experiments, to observe how far he had penetrated, hefound that he could faintly discern the light from Poubalov's windowswhen he placed his eye close to the door and shaded it with his hands.Then he took a rusty nail that he pulled from the wall of his closet,and, working it patiently with his fingers, pushed it through thepartially-bored hole until half its length must have protruded into theother room. A little more effort and he could put the nail in place andwithdraw it without the slightest noise. Among the trifles that hadaccumulated in his possessions was an untrained lithograph representingcupids throwing flowers as big as themselves at one another. He couldhardly remember how he came to have it; some young lady sent it to him,probably, as long ago as last Valentine's Day; but there it was, witha neat little card attached; and he hung it on the nail to excuse hisoperation should the landlady happen to notice it. There were plentyof hooks in the room, but he would tell her that it was his fancy toembellish the door.
"There," he thought, as he contemplated his finished work, "if our spyis not more observing and suspicious than I think he is, I shall beable to take a look at him occasionally."
Having carefully cleaned up the slight litter he had made, he lockedthe door of his room and went to make his report to Clara.
He told her frankly that he believed Litizki had been mistaken aboutthe little front room. "But," he added, "I have taken the back roomfor a week, and I shall be surprised if I do not make some discoverybefore my time is up."
Intent upon being on the ground, where he could watch every movement ofPoubalov, he hurried back to Bulfinch Place, and sat himself down topass time with books until the spy should come in.
All day long Clara heeded her uncle's injunction to rest, but thatwas because there was nothing she could do. Moreover, she expectedPoubalov, and she was more than anxious to be at home to receive him.He came about five o'clock. The young ladies were refreshing themselveswith tea, and Louise, who never ceased to be amazed at her cousin'sproceedings, almost gasped when she saw Clara greet him cordially andhasten to get a cup for him.
One would not have expected Poubalov to show fatigue, if he ever feltit, but if he were not weary on this occasion, something had occurredto disturb him. His eyes were heavy, his accent harder to understandthan usual, and it was not until several minutes had passed, and he haddrank freely of tea, that he spoke with anything like his customarymasterful confidence. Clara led the conversation at the start. Afterthe first greetings she referred to the episode in the car, saying:
"I should have thought you would suffer as I did from the shock ofthat terrible assault. It was dreadful to look at, and how much moredreadful to be the intended victim."
"You are mistaken, Miss Hilman," responded the spy; "the very shock ofthe blow convinced me that I was unharmed. There was therefore no moreoccasion for alarm on my part than as if a book had fallen from therack upon my head."
"But, really, I supposed the worst had happened," insisted Clara, "foryou not only fell but you gasped----"
"Naturally. To put it roughly, the fellow knocked the breath out of me."
"And have you heard nothing of Litizki?"
Poubalov looked at her gravely as he answered:
"I have seen him."
"Seen him!" echoed both his listeners, and "where?" asked Clara.
"He was not under arrest," answered Poubalov; "he was free, as free ashe ever will be with the memory of the recent past to haunt him, asit certainly will. You will never see him again"--he raised his handdeprecatingly; "pardon me, I did not mean to suggest the slightestdiscomfort. He has not committed suicide, and I do not know that hecontemplates it."
He turned his attention to his tea, and both young ladies were silentfor a moment. Then Louise found an excuse for withdrawing, and Clarawas left alone with the inscrutable foe to her happiness. There was amarked pause after Louise had gone, Clara waiting for Poubalov, and thespy--who can tell what was coursing through his mind? At length he setdown his cup, and with an attempt at the aggressive self-possessionthat usually characterized his demeanor, he said:
"I owe you an explanation, Miss Hilman."
"Only one?" she asked coldly, but there was a strange smile on her face.
"Many," responded the spy, and there was an expression on hisfeatures, in his bearing, in the tones of his voice, that, but for thecircumstances, might have been credited to sincerity. He was either nothis usual self, or he was playing a much deeper game than any he hadyet revealed. "Many," he repeated, "and they will all be made in duetime. Do you see that I honor you in the highest way that is possiblefor me? I mean by not treating you to the customary forms of courtesywhich are the more or less transparent garments of falsehood. I do notcome here with a plausible story to account for my conduct, asking youto accept it as an apology whether you believe it, or not. I tell youthe truth, so far as I speak at all; and when the nature of the casewould compel me to lie if I opened my lips, I am silent."
"Or you evade the question," interposed Clara, and again she smiledprovokingly, but there was no invitation to feel at ease in herexpression. Poubalov did not misinterpret it, and it almost seemed asif he, the master mind, were discomposed.
"Perhaps I do," he admitted after a moment; "my habits of speech arenot such as conduce to absolute candor even with you, whom I respecttoo highly to consciously deceive. Tell me, Miss Hilman, will you not,can you not believe that I tell you the truth?"
"I have thought about it a great deal," replied Clara steadily, "andsometimes I almost think you do; but, you know, you have really hadvery little conversation with me."
"True enough, and I must confess that I never found it so hard to takemy part in a conversation as I do at this minute. I usually lead it, Imay say dominate it," and he smiled a little; "usually, you see, I makepeople, men and women, believe me. I would beg you to, Miss Hilman, ifonly I knew how."
"Why try to compel me to stand on the same plane as you do?" askedClara; "you confess your habits of deceit. How can I promise to believeyou without confessing
that, for this moment at least, I accept yourown style of intercourse?"
"You are an invincible logician, Miss Hilman," exclaimed Poubalov,compressing his lips. "I give up, and will let my words stand or fallon their merits, according as you judge them. I came here on Wednesdayevening to tell you some things I had discovered. The man Billingscalled before I had begun to speak. I departed unceremoniously, becauseI did not wish to meet him."
"I know that," said Clara, simply. "I knew it at the time."
"Of course you did," responded Poubalov, crestfallen; "you could notinfer otherwise, and my confession has all the appearance, therefore,of a pitiably weak attempt to bolster up my claim to veracity."
"I do not interpret it that way. I can make my own test of yourveracity. I shall listen to whatever you have to say, without referenceto what you call a confession."
"Well, then," resumed the spy, speaking rapidly, "this is what I cameto say. I had made investigations in my own way along the lines of thetheory laid down with respect to the possible operations of Nihilistsagainst Mr. Strobel. I caught Litizki shadowing me, and recognized himas one with whom I had come in official contact in Russia. It seemedto me child's play to deal with him, for I had no respect for hisintellect. I supposed at first that he was tracking me as the agent ofa Nihilistic society. Then I learned that he was devoted to Strobel.I knew he would come to see me, but not openly. So I sat up for him,and he crept into the house like a thief. We had a conversation that Iwill not pause to detail. I did my best to impress him with my power,and then let him go away, for I wanted him to be at large, and I didnot want him just then to report to you what I had told him. You see, Ipurposely allowed him to nurse his suspicions of me. Next day I calledat his shop, my sole purpose being to learn who his associates were,and to endeavor to fasten upon them the taking off of Strobel. Amongthe men in his shop was one Boris Vargovitch, at one time somewhat ofa leader among the Nihilists. The rest that I was going to say on thatevening I do not need to say now, for I have since become convincedthat Litizki was acting irresponsibly in pursuing me, and that ifNihilists were active, he was not in their confidence. Furthermore, Iam now convinced that neither Vargovitch nor any other former Nihilistin Boston was concerned in the Strobel matter. I was mistaken insupposing that the Nihilists continued their close organization in thiscountry. They may send revolutionary literature to Russia, but they donot keep up active operations here. I withdraw my innuendoes againstthem, therefore, and have to confess that you are now just as far alongin your painful search as you were five days ago."
Clara was deeply impressed by this narration. She could see no flaw init, no evidence of untruthfulness. But there was a touch of evasion inthe conclusion, and she remarked with merciless coolness:
"You do not say that we are as far along as five days ago. You confinethe lack of progress to me."
There was a hasty glance from the spy that looked like apprehension.
"Of course, I catch the significance of your words," he said; "youthink I know more than I tell, that I instigated the abduction ofStrobel."
"Tell me," she said, looking straight into his eyes, "why did you notwish to meet Billings?"
He hesitated, and the color rose slowly to his cheeks.
"No," he answered, "not now. I have said all I can for the present. Iam still pursuing this matter, Miss Hilman, but I must put off furtherinformation. I would ask you to trust me to report faithfully to youbut that it is such a farce for two persons like you and me to bandywords."
"It is a cruel farce," she exclaimed, rising indignantly; "you pretendto help me and you laboriously tell me things I already know."
She walked across the room, and her brain struggled for a plan in theconfusion of impulses, hopes and fears. What might Paul accomplish?Would she not surely lose a possible point by dismissing the spy onceand for all, and might she not some day gain much by keeping in somesort of communication with him? This was the policy she had determinedupon, and she would adhere to it. So she turned and faced him. He hadrisen, waiting her word of dismissal or encouragement.
"I will give you one more opportunity to tell me the whole truth andmake amends," she said sternly; "I believe what you have told meto-night. Next time I must have all, and nothing short of it. Will youcome to-morrow?"
"Yes, Miss Hilman, in the evening."
He bowed gravely and left the house.
Paul did not venture to go to dinner when evening came. He read on andon, waiting to hear Poubalov enter the adjoining room. It was late inthe evening when at last he heard the door open and close, and he knewthat the spy was at home.
Then Paul laid down his book and stepped cautiously upon the chair bythe door. He carefully drew out the nail and applied his eye to thehole. He commanded a view of the very center of Poubalov's room.
The spy had thrown himself into a chair, and was sitting as if deeplywrapped in thought. There were wrinkles in his brow and his lips wereset close together.
After a few moments thus, he took his traveling bag from the bureau andunlocked it. Having fumbled over the contents, he drew forth a cabinetphotograph that he took directly under the chandelier where the lightwas strongest. His back was partially turned to Paul, and he held thecard so that the observer at the nail hole could see it distinctly.
With a shock of surprise Paul recognized it as a picture of ClaraHilman.
Poubalov gazed long and earnestly at it and then touched it reverentlyto his lips.
The Mission of Poubalov Page 21
