The Red Symbol. Ironside John

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СКАЧАТЬ smoked in silence for a time, till he remarked abruptly: “Carson’s dead.”

      “Dead!” I ejaculated, in genuine consternation. I had known and liked Carson; one of the cleverest and most promising of Southbourne’s “young men.”

      He blew out a cloud of smoke, watched a ring form and float away as if it were the only interesting thing in the world. Then he fired another word off at me.

      “Murdered!”

      He blew another smoke ring, and there was a spell of silence. I do not even now know whether his callousness was real or feigned. I hope it was feigned, though he affected to regard all who served him, in whatever capacity, as mere pieces in the ambitious game he played, to be used or discarded with equal skill and ruthlessness, and if an unlucky pawn fell from the board, – why it was lost to the game, and there was an end of it.

      Murdered! It seemed incredible. I thought of Carson as I last saw him, the day before I started for South Africa, when we dined together and made a night of it. If I had been available when the situation became acute in Russia a few weeks later, Southbourne would have sent me instead of him; I should perhaps have met with his fate. I knew, of course, that at this time a “special” in Russia ran quite as many risks as a war correspondent on active service; but it was one thing to encounter a stray bullet or a bayonet thrust in the course of one’s day’s work, – say during an émeute, – and quite another to be murdered in cold blood.

      “That’s terrible!” I said huskily, at last. “He was such a splendid chap, too, poor Carson. Have you any details?”

      “Yes; he was found in his rooms, stabbed to the heart. He must have been dead twenty-four hours or more.”

      “And the police have tracked the murderer?”

      “No, and I don’t suppose they will. They’ve so many similar affairs of their own on hand, that an Englishman more or less doesn’t count. The Embassy is moving in the matter, but it is very unlikely that anything will be discovered beyond what is known already, – that it was the work of an emissary of some secret society with which Carson had mixed himself up, in defiance of my instructions.”

      He paused and lighted another cigarette.

      “How do you know he defied your instructions?” I burst out indignantly. The tone of his allusion to Carson riled me. “Don’t you always expect us to send a good story, no matter how, or at what personal risk, we get the material?”

      “Just so,” he asserted calmly. “By the way, if you’re in a funk, Wynn, you needn’t go. I can get another man to take your place to-night.”

      “I’m not in a funk, and I mean to go, unless you want to send another man. If you do, send him and be damned to you both!” I retorted hotly. “Look here, Lord Southbourne; Carson never failed in his duty, – I’d stake my life on that! And I’ll not allow you, or any man, to sneer at him when he’s dead and can’t defend himself!”

      Southbourne dropped his cigarette and stared at me, a dusky flush rising under his sallow skin. That is the only time I have ever seen any sign of emotion on his impassive face.

      “I apologize, Mr. Wynn,” he said stiffly. “I ought not to have insinuated that you were afraid to undertake this commission. Your past record has proved you the very reverse of a coward! And, I assure you, I had no intention of sneering at poor Carson or of decrying his work. But from information in my possession I know that he exceeded his instructions; that he ceased to be a mere observer of the vivid drama of Russian life, and became an actor in it, with the result, poor chap, that he has paid for his indiscretion with his life!”

      “How do you know all this?” I demanded. “How do you know – ”

      “That he was not in search of ‘copy,’ but in pursuit of his private ends, when he deliberately placed himself in peril? Well, I do know it; and that is all I choose to say on this point. I warned him at the outset, – as I need not have warned you, – that he must exercise infinite tact and discretion in his relations with the police, and the bureaucracy which the police represent; and also with the people, – the democracy. That he must, in fact, maintain a strictly impartial and impersonal attitude and view-point. Well, that’s just what he failed to do. He became involved with some secret society; you know as well as I do – better, perhaps – that Russia is honeycombed with ’em. Probably in the first instance he was actuated by curiosity; but I have reason to believe that his connection with this society was a purely personal affair. There was a woman in it, of course. I can’t tell you just how he came to fall foul of his new associates, for I don’t know. Perhaps they imagined he knew too much. Anyhow, he was found, as I have said, stabbed to the heart. There is no clue to the assassin, except that in Carson’s clenched hand was found an artificial flower, – a red geranium, which – ”

      I started upright, clutching the arms of my chair. A red geranium! The bit of stuff dangling from Cassavetti’s pass-key; the hieroglyphic on the portrait, the flower Anne had given to Cassavetti, and to which he seemed to attach so much significance. All red geraniums. What did they mean?

      “The police declare it to be the symbol of a formidable secret organization which they have hitherto failed to crush; one that has ramifications throughout the world,” Southbourne continued. “Why, man, what’s wrong with you?” he added hastily.

      I suppose I must have looked ghastly; but I managed to steady my voice, and answer curtly: “I’ll tell you later. Go on, what about Carson?”

      He rose and crossed to his desk before he answered, scrutinizing me with keen interest the while.

      “That’s all. Except that this was found in his breast-pocket; I got it by to-night’s mail. It’s in a horrid state; the blood soaked through, of course.”

      He picked up a small oblong card, holding it gingerly in his finger-tips, and handed it to me.

      I think I knew what it was, even before I looked at it. A photograph of Anne Pendennis, identical – save that it was unframed – with that which was in the possession of the miserable old Russian, even to the initials, the inscription, and the red symbol beneath it!

      CHAPTER IV

      THE RIVER STEPS

      “This was found in Carson’s pocket?” I asked, steadying my voice with an effort.

      He nodded.

      I affected to examine the portrait closely, to gain a moment’s time. Should I tell him, right now, that I knew the original; tell him also of my strange visitant? No; I decided to keep silence, at least until after I had seen Anne, and cross-examined the old Russian again.

      “Have you any clue to her identity?” I said, as I rose and replaced the blood-stained card on his desk.

      “No. I’ve no doubt the Russian Secret Police know well enough who she is; but they don’t give anything away, – even to me.”

      “They sent you that promptly enough,” I suggested, indicating the photograph with a fresh cigarette which I took up as I resumed my seat. I had managed to regain my composure, and have no doubt that Southbourne considered my late agitation was merely the outcome of my natural horror and astonishment at the news of poor Carson’s tragic fate. And now I meant to ascertain all he knew or suspected about the affair, without revealing my personal interest in it.

      “Not they! It came from Von Eckhardt. It was he who found poor Carson; and he took СКАЧАТЬ