The International Spy. Upward Allen
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Название: The International Spy

Автор: Upward Allen

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Зарубежная классика

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СКАЧАТЬ description did not tend to soothe my nerves, conscious as I was that the woman I was about to meet could consign me to the most noisome dungeon in the fortress by merely lifting her little finger.

      I was just closing the book with an involuntary shudder when I heard a light, almost girlish, laugh from above. I looked hastily, and saw the woman I had come to measure myself against standing poised like a bird on the top of the grand staircase.

      As I rose hurriedly to my feet, taking in every detail of her superb yet delicate figure, her complexion like a blush-rose, her lustrous eyes – they were dark violet on a closer view – and the cloud of rippling gold that framed her brow, I was moved, yes, positively carried away for a moment, by a sentiment such as few women have been able to inspire in me.

      Perceiving, no doubt, that she had produced the desired impression, the Princess ran lightly down the stairs and came toward me holding out two tiny hands, the fingers of which were literally gloved in diamonds.

      “My friend! My noble Englishman!” she exclaimed in the purest French. “And since when have you known that dear Monsieur Place?”

      I checked myself on the point of replying, pretended to falter, and then muttered in the worst French I could devise on the spur of the moment:

      “Parlez-vous Anglais, s’il vous plaît, Madame?

      The Princess shook her head reproachfully.

      “You speak French too well not to understand it, I suspect,” she retorted in the same language. Then dropping it for English, marred only by a slight Slavonic accent, she repeated:

      “But tell me, – dear Mr. Place, he is a great friend of yours, I suppose?”

      “I can hardly claim the honor of his personal friendship,” I replied, rather lamely. “But I have always known and admired him as a public man.”

      “Ah! He is so good, is he not? So generous, so confiding, so great a friend of our dear Russia. You know Mr. – ?”

      The name she uttered was that of the politician referred to above. She slipped it out swiftly, with the action of a cat pouncing.

      I shook my head with an air of distress.

      “I am afraid I am not important enough to know such a great man as that,” I said with affected humility.

      The Princess hastened to relieve my embarrassment.

      “What is that to us!” she exclaimed. “You are an Englishman, you are benevolent, upright, truthful, and you esteem our country. Such men are always welcome in Russia. The Czaritza is waiting for me; but you will come back and dine with me, if not to-night, then to-morrow, or the next day. I will send an invitation to your hotel. My friends shall call on you. You are staying at the – ?”

      I mentioned the name of the hotel, murmuring my thanks.

      “That is nothing,” the beautiful woman went on in the same eager strain. “I shall have good news for you when we meet again, believe me. Yes – ” she lowered her voice almost to a whisper – “our dear Czar is going to take the negotiations into his own hands. So it is said. His majesty is determined to preserve peace. The odious intrigues of the War group will be defeated, I can assure you. You will not be disappointed, my dear Mr. – ” she snatched the editor’s letter from her muff and glanced at it – “Mr. Sterling, if I tell you that you are going to have your journey for nothing. You will have a good time in Petersburg, all the same. But believe me when I tell you so, your journey will fortunately be for nothing!”

      And with the repetition of these words, and another bright bow and look which dazzled my senses, the wonderful creature swept past me to where the chamberlain stood ready to hand her into her carriage.

      For nothing?

      CHAPTER III

      THE HEAD OF THE MANCHURIAN SYNDICATE

      No reader can have failed to notice one remarkable point in the interview between the Princess Y – and myself. I refer of course to her invitation to me to dine with her in the course of a day or two.

      Unless the etiquette of the Russian Court differed greatly from that of most others in Europe, it would be most indecorous for a lady-in-waiting, during her turn of service, to give entertainments at her private house.

      I felt certain that this invitation concealed some trap, but I puzzled myself uselessly in trying to guess what it could be.

      In the meantime I did not neglect certain other friends of mine in the city on the Neva, from whom I had some hope of receiving assistance.

      Although I have never gone so far as to enroll myself as an active Nihilist, I am what is known as an Auxiliary. In other words, without being under the orders of the great secret committee which wages underground war with the Russian Government, I have sometimes rendered it voluntary services, and I have at all times the privilege of communicating with it, and exchanging information.

      While waiting for the next move on the part of the Princess, therefore, I decided to get in touch with the revolutionists.

      I made my way on foot to a certain tavern situated near the port, and chiefly patronized by German and Scandinavian sailors.

      The host of the Angel Gabriel, as the house was called, was a Nihilist of old standing, and one of their most useful agents for introducing forbidden literature into the empire.

      Printed mostly in London, in a suburb called Walworth, the revolutionary tracts are shipped to Bergen or Lubeck, and brought thence by these sailors concealed in their bedding. At night, after the customs officers have departed, a boat with a false keel puts off from a quay higher up the Neva, and passes down the river to where the newly arrived ship is lying; the packages are dropped overboard as it drifts past the side and hidden under the bottom boards; and then the boat returns up the river, where its cargo is transferred to the cellars of the tavern.

      The host, a namesake of the Viceroy of Manchuria, was serving in the bar when I came in. I called for a glass of vodka, and in doing so made the sign announcing myself as an Auxiliary.

      Alexieff said nothing in reply, but the sailors lounging in the bar began to finish off their drinks and saunter out one by one, till in a short time the place was empty.

      “Well?” said the tavern-keeper, as soon as we were alone.

      It was not my first visit to the Angel Gabriel, and I lost no time in convincing Alexieff of my identity. As soon as he recognized me, I said: —

      “You know the Princess Y – ?”

      The expression of rage and fear which convulsed his features was a sufficient answer.

      “You know, moreover, that she is at present working her hardest to bring about a war between Russia and Japan, with the hope of ultimately involving Great Britain?”

      He nodded sullenly.

      “How does that affect your friends?” I asked cautiously. Something in the man’s face warned me not to show my own hand just then.

      “We hate her, of course,” he said grudgingly, “but just now we have received orders that she is not to be interfered with.”

      I drew a deep breath.

      “Then СКАЧАТЬ