In the two months that she had been with him she had picked up quite a lot of French, and although she could speak it only in a garbled fashion she now had no difficulty in understanding everything he said to her.
When they reached the sitting-room he told her briefly that an enemy of his had attempted to kill him, but had been overcome, and was now lying tied up in the bedroom. To punish the fellow he meant to keep him there all night; but as he had to set out at once on a journey himself he wished her to act as wardress.
Taking Zaria into the bedroom he gave her a hunting-knife, pointed to the prostrate Count and said: "I want you to sit here with him till morning. If he starts to struggle go over and look at the knots which secure him. Should they appear to be slackening prick him with the knife until he stops wriggling. But also examine the gag over his mouth. If you find that he shows signs of suffocation, and is struggling on that account, loosen it a little, so that he gets more air. At six o'clock you are to cut the cord that ties his wrists, then leave him to untie his ankles himself. He will be too stiff to grab you and do you any harm. As soon as you have freed his hands you are to leave the house and take a holiday with your parents for the next three days. I expect to be back on Friday, so you can return here that night. If, in the meantime, anyone seeks you out and questions you about this man, you will simply say that I told you that he was a villain who had attempted to assassinate me, and that you did no more than carry out my orders."
Zaria felt the point of the knife with her finger and grinned at him. "You may leave all to me, lord, and know that I shall do exactly as you bid me. May St. Nicholas protect you on your journey."
He was troubled with no scruples at having involved her in an illegal act, since, as his serf, she was bound by law to obey him in all things, and could not be called to account for carrying out any orders he might give her. Having kissed her on the forehead and chucked her under the chin, he hurried back to the sitting-room to collect his cloak, sword and pistols.
As he was doing so his eye fell upon three rings, lying on a low table near the settee. They were Natalia's; she had taken them off before bathing his face and had evidently forgotten to put them on again. Snatching them up he unlocked the brass-bound coffer in which lie kept his money, threw them inside, re-locked it and ran downstairs.
Ostermann was outside walking the mare up and down. With a word of thanks to him Roger mounted her and trotted off down the street. He had Yagerhorn's laisser passerin his pocket; and was well satisfied with the eventual outcome of the night's events. His arrangements had worked so smoothly that barely eight minutes had elapsed between Natalia Andreovna's leaving and his being on his way to Finland.
Once clear of the city the road led north-west across the Karelian isthmus. Unlike the splendid highways to the south of the Gulf which led to Peterhof and Tzarskoe-selo, it had no fine columns of marble, jasper and granite to mark the versts, or the eleven hundred globular lamps which were always kept burning at night to light the way for courtiers and couriers hastening to or from the Imperial Palaces; but fortunately the moon was nearly at the full and shining in an almost cloudless sky.
Without forcing the pace, so as to save his mare, and dismounting every hour to give her a good breather, Roger steadily ate up the miles. He had the best part of a hundred and fifty miles to go, and shortly before three in the morning he entered the little town of Kyrola, having covered a good third of the distance.
Knowing that the inn would be certain to prove squalid and verminous, he watered his mare at the village-trough, tethered her to a nearby tree, and gave her a feed from her nose-bag; then he wrapped himself in his heavy cloak and lay down in a dry, grassy ditch to get some sleep. It was Wednesday, the 29th of August, and the chill of autumn was already in the air, but he was warmly clad and felt no discomfort from it.
The nights were lengthening now, but it was full daylight when he woke at seven to see a group of peasant-women regarding him with mild curiosity as they filled their buckets at the well. After watering and feeding his mount he made breakfast off some of his provisions. Then he mounted again and set out to do the twenty miles to Viiborg.
The ancient Finnish city offered much better accommodation; so he had a second breakfast at the hostelry there at ten o'clock and, leaving his mare in its stable, continued his journey on a post-horse.
He had been passing through a desolate land of lakes and marshes, interspersed with dark forests of larch and pine; but, for the greater part of the way the road now ran along the coast, where small villages inhabited by primitive fishing-communities were comparatively numerous. Having twice more changed his mount at post-houses, and taken a good rest at midday, he entered the area of military operations about five in the afternoon. Leaving the road he proceeded with some caution for a further two miles, avoiding all camps as he came in sight of them; then, the terrain forced him to return to the highway, and shortly afterwards he was halted by a Russian outpost.
The sergeant in charge was unable to read and regarded him with considerable suspicion; but Roger could now speak a few words of Russian and he demanded to be taken before an officer. After some twenty minutes delay a young lieutenant examined his laisser-passer, pronounced it to be in order, and gave him permission to proceed.
On reaching the first Swedish post he asked the whereabouts of Gustavus, and learned, as he had hoped, that the King was still in his camp outside Frederikshamn. Two dragoons were detained to escort him there, with orders to see that he did not escape; but he had no desire to do so and shortly before seven o'clock he reached the Swedish headquarters-
When he gave his name and said that he had come from St. Petersburg with urgent news for the King, he was taken to the pavilion of General Baron Armfeldt. Gustavus's handsome favourite at once announced that he was the proper channel through which all news should reach the King, but Roger politely declined the offer of his services and insisted that he must speak personally and in private with His Majesty;
Upon this he was shown to a smaller tent, where he waited for well over an hour. Then an officer led him in the failing light across the grass to a large marquee. In it Gustavus was sitting at a table strewn with maps. His foxy face looked drawn and a little older, but his slightly protuberant eyes still shone with energy and courage. Roger bowed and stood silent, waiting to be addressed.
"Well, Mr. Brook," Gustavus smiled slightly. "We had almost come to believe that you had forgotten us; yet always had a feeling that sooner or later you would honour your obligation, and that when you did you would bring us intelligence of more worth than a dozen of our paid spies. Stand not on ceremony, but earn our eternal gratitude by telling us that Admiral Greig has hung himself from his own yard-arm, or that Catherine the harlot has died from taking an overdose of some new aphrodisiac."
Roger mutely shook his head and, as befitted the bearer of bad news, fell on one knee as he replied: "Alas, Sire, I fear that I bring you ill-tidings. In fact they could scarce be worse."
"No matter," the King's voice was firm. "God knows, fortune has dealt us blows enough these past few months; yet, despite all calamities our shoulders are not become so weak that we cannot bear more, and still face the future with becoming fortitude."
"Sire," Roger said sadly, "in a treaty made some years back, by which the Empress surrendered the Holstein territories to the Danes in exchange for two small duchies, there was a secret clause. By it the Danes bound themselves to aid Russia should she ever be attacked by Sweden. They have agreed to honour it, and are at this moment arming with intent to stab your Majesty in the back."
Gustavus leapt to hisfeet. "Is this the truth? Are you certain of it?" "I had it, Sire, not more than sixty hours ago, from an impeccable source."
"Then God be praised!" The King ran forward, raised Roger to his feet, and embraced him. " 'Tis the best news we have had since we landed in this accursed province. And for the bringing of it we will make you a Chevalier of our Order of the Sword of Sweden."
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Roger stared at him in dumbfounded amazement as he began to pace up and down, and breaking into the first person went on excitedly: "Do you not see how this apparently disastrous development may be turned to my advantage? All the world knows that I led my army into Finland. What they do not know is that it is three parts composed of poltroons and traitors. Owing to the disaster sustained by my fleet the army is cut off here; and even could my personal eloquence persuade the men to a renewed sense of their duty their efforts would be rendered abortive through an acute shortage of warlike stores. My forces are completely moribund and can effect nothing, so their state must go from bad to worse. The only hope for them lies in my own return to Stockholm, where I could raise a new fleet, challenge Admiral Greig's temporary supremacy in the Gulf, and bring them succour. Yet how could I abandon my own troops in their present plight without being branded as a coward in their eyes and those of all Europe alike? This news you bring me provides the one excuse by which the army's situation and my personal honour may be saved. Since our homeland is to be attacked the Monarch's proper place is in his capital. To gain it I needs must run the hazard of the blockade; yet even capture in the attempt would be better than to remain here until things reach such a pass that I may risk the indignity of being arrested by my own officers. Mr. Brook, you have brought me new life, and I am your eternal debtor for it."
For Roger this outburst threw an entirely new light on the situation, and from having anticipated an ill-reception on account of the gloomy duty he had undertaken, he found himself instead a welcome and honoured guest. He spent over an hour with Gustavus, giving him the latest particulars of affairs at the Russian Court, and left the marquee with the Star of his first Order of Chivalry glittering upon his chest. That night he supped with the King and slept in reasonable comfort in the camp.
Next morning he set off back to St. Petersburg, reaching Viiborg that night; and on the Friday he completed his journey, arriving at his lodging soon after four in the afternoon.
He had taken the last stage slowly, and during it, thought out the line of conduct he should adopt if Count Yagerhorn had laid a complaint against him with the police. It seemed best to state frankly that, on account of a love-affair that he had had while in Stockholm, the Count had waylaid him and given him a beating; and that on learning that the Count had come to St. Petersburg he had availed himself of the opportunity to lure him to his lodging and repay the compliment. The Russian mentality was such as to consider his act fully justified. He hoped that the Count would not drag Natalia Andreovna into the matter, as she might incur the Empress's displeasure for the part she had played; but if that did occur it could not be helped.
The only point that bothered him a little was how to explain away his having stolen Yagerhorn's laisser-passerbut he decided that here a He would serve him best. He could say that after the affray in Stockholm the Count had taken the papers from his pocket and maliciously destroyed them with the object of causing him inconvenience; and that he had returned tid-for-tat without even noticing that the laisser passerwas among them.
On arriving at his lodging he met Ostermann in the hallway. The Courlander gave him good-day with a somewhat shifty, surprised look, but refrained from saying anything further. Running upstairs to his apartment Roger threw open the door; grouped round the table there were three men playing a game of dice. They were wearing the uniform of the Russian police.
At his entrance they all jumped to their feet. The tallest of the three stepped forward, gave a curt bow and said in German: "You are the Chevalier de Breuc are you not? Since you left all your money here we were in hopes that you might return for it before attempting to leave the country, and our patience is well rewarded."
Roger returned the bow politely. "I had no intention of leaving the country, Sir. I have been absent on a fishing-expedition for the past few days; but this being my lodging I naturally intended to return to it. May I inquire the reason for your desiring to see me?"
The officer coughed, brushed up his flowing moustache and said firmly: "It is my duty to arrest you, Chevalier, for the murder of Count Erik Yagerhorn."
CHAPTER XVII
PENALTY FOR MURDER
"MURDER!" gasped Roger, his blue eyes opening wide with shock and sudden apprehension. "Is the Count then dead? I left him.."
He broke off half-way through his sentence from a swift realisation that, for the moment, the less he said the better. He had already committed himself to one lie, by saying that he had been on a fishing-expedition, and if found out in that it might throw discredit on all else he said. What had gone wrong in his absence he could not even remotely guess; but it was clear that some fatal accident had now placed his own life in the direst peril.
The officer relieved him of his sword; one of the men left the room for a few minutes, and on his return, Roger was taken downstairs. Outside in the street there now stood a plain carriage with iron shutters instead of windows. They all got in and drove off.
Suddenly Roger's benumbed wits began to work again and he had an inspiration. His companions were not police-officers at all but men hired and disguised in police uniforms by Yagerhorn. The Count evidently meant to make a vendetta of their quarrel and had thought up this clever ruse for a double purpose; firstly to inflict a terrible fright upon him and secondly in order that he might be conveyed unresisting to some lonely spot where full vengeance could be exacted.
Five minutes later this illusion was abruptly dissipated. The carriage halted, and as Roger got out he recognised the police-office of his district. He was led inside and immediately taken before the local police-president.
The official asked him his name, rank and nationality. Roger gave them as "Rojé Christorovitch de Breuc; Major-General, and Chevalier; native of Strasbourg, France."
When these had been noted down, and his age, his address and the date of his arrival in Russia had been taken, the next question was: "When did you last see Count Erik Yagerhorn?"
To this Roger refused to reply, and added that he would make no statement of any kind until he was given full particulars as to why they should suppose that he had killed the Count; and had also been allowed to see the French Ambassador.
The police-president shrugged, and said that given a little time in a dungeon to think matters over the prisoner would, no doubt, see the advisability of answering straightforward questions. In view of his rank he could not be put into the ordinary aiminal prison, so would be taken to the Fortress of Schlusselburg.
Roger had never seen the fortress but knew that it lay some twenty miles to the east of St. Petersburg, on a small island in the mouth of the Neva where it enters Lake Ladoga; and he had heard of it in connection with the tragic life and death of the Czar Ivan IV.
This unfortunate prince, although the legitimate heir to the throne, had been deposed while still a babe in arms in favour of his aunt Elizabeth. From fear of his being used as the focus of a conspiracy against her she had kept him a solitary prisoner during the whole of his childhood and youth. At the time of her death he was twenty-two, and, report had it, a personable young man of agreeable manners, who, considering that he had spent his whole life behind prison-walls, showed every sign of good mental abilities. For a few months his prospects had then brightened as Peter III, owing to his hatred of his wife Catherine, had during his short reign, contemplated putting aside both Catherine and his son by her and making the poor captive his heir. He had even visited the prisoner at Schlusselburg and given orders for more comfortable accommodation to be provided for him. But the coup d'etathad put an end to any hopes of poor Ivan ever knowing the joys of freedom. Worse, after Peter's death all those who had a grudge against the new Empress began to contemplate another coup d'etat which would place Ivan on the throne. The conspiracy misfired and during an abortive attempt to rescue him he had been brutally murdered by his guards. Some people whispered that Catherine had known of the conspiracy and deliberately allowed it to develop to a poin
t at which she could use it as an excuse to rid herself of this inoffensive yet potentially dangerous rival to her power.
While Roger was on the way to Schlusselburg, in the closed carriage, he recalled all that he had heard of this melancholy tragedy, and particularly the rumours, though they were no more, which inferred the the complicity of the Empress in young Ivan's untimely death. With fresh trepidation he remembered that no more than rumour accused her of having ordered her husband's death, yet he carried the written proof of her guilt upon him.
That damning piece of evidence against the autocrat was carefully sewn up in the stiff buckram lining to the collar of his coat; but he knew that when he reached the fortress his clothes as well as his person might possibly be searched. Alexis Orlof had, apparently, never missed the document and still believed it to be where it had lain untouched for years, safely in his secretaire; but Roger knew that, whether it could be proved that he was responsible for Yagerhorn's death or not, he could expect no mercy if the paper was discovered.
His fears for himself were further augmented by the fact that he still had both Yagerhorn's laisser-passerand King Gustavus's gift, the Order of the Sword of Sweden, in his pocket. If they were found upon him it should not be difficult to put two and two together and, since Russia was in a state of war with Sweden, he would be shot as a spy. Yet he could not possibly rid himself of the laisser-passeror the Star and its yellow ribbon while in an iron-shuttered carriage with his guards watching him.
With such concrete grounds for apprehension on three separate counts, any one of which might result in his speedy death, Roger felt that his chances of leaving the fortress alive were almost nonexistent; and by the time they reached it his very natural fears had caused him to break out in a muck sweat.
On arrival, his particulars were entered by a sour-faced clerk into a heavy ledger, and the police then handed him over to two hefty, ill-favoured gaolers. They lit their lamps, took him to a gloomy stone-floored room, and waited there with him for some twenty minutes until a senior warder joined them. The newcomer beckoned, and Roger was taken along seemingly endless, low-vaulted corridors. At length they halted in front of a heavy iron-studded door. It was unbolted; Roger was thrust in and it clanged dismally behind him.
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