Chapter II: The Spy and the Victim

The noble steamer Baltic plowed her way through the buffeting bosoms of the blue Atlantic oceanward.

There was no land, in sight, there was no moon to light the waves, but their own phosphorescence made the bounding billows visible to those who came on deck. The sky above was clear, and the stars twinkled in the blue above like diamonds in sapphire setting.

There were a goodly number of passengers on deck, both cabin and steerage, and the hum of voices could be heard above the "clang-clang" of the engines, the "whurr" of the propeller, and the long lines of foam which shot away to larboard and starboard like streaks of silver gave food for reflection and conversation.

Billy Barnwell was on deck, and in a very short time a conversation sprang up between him and an aged gentleman, by whose side sat a young lady with a veil over her face.

Her voice was full and sweet, and the old gentleman's voice was that of a man who was perfectly balanced, showing in all respects a person of more than ordinary conditions in life--a refined gentleman.

But in the uncertain light of the cabin skylights Barnwell could not see plainly enough to distinguish faces, although the voice of both the old man and the young lady were so impressed upon his mind that he could not forget them.

Tobasco was also on deck, as it was his province to be, and he watched young Barnwell, of course, and also the people with whom he was conversing.

Indeed, he seldom allowed them out of his sight during the entire voyage.

It seemed strange to them, but on meeting the next morning on deck, all three of them recognized each other at once, not-withstanding they had only met each other in the dim and uncertain light thrown into the darkness by the lights from the cabin skylights.

But neither of them seemed in the least surprised, the old gentleman was just such a person as young Barnwell judged him to be, and the young man was in no way different from what he had esteemed him. But to Barnwell's mind the young lady was far more beautiful and attractive than her voice had led him to think the night before.

She was about eighteen years of age, well-developed, bright and beautiful, and he was not long in learning that they held the relationship of father and daughter; and after a mutual introduction brought about in this sea-going way, it proved that the old gentleman, whose name was Clark, had been an old-time friend of Barnwell's father, and this brought them into very close relationship while on the voyage.

He was wealthy, a widower, and with his only child was going abroad for pleasure; and before their arrival at London the young couple had become more than ordinary friends, and parted there with an arranged meeting a month hence at Berlin, after which they were to travel in company.

The spy, Tobasco, meanwhile, never allowed Barnwell to escape his observation; and when he set out for St. Petersburg it was only because Barnwell was going there also.

He was one of the keenest spies in the employ of the prefect of police, and had been sent to America to watch the movements of Socialists, who were in active sympathy with the terrible Nihilists of Russia, under the leadership of Paul Zobriskie.

And watching this Nihilist so closely accounts for his being on board the steamer where we first met him, and of his sailing away in the manner he did. He had long suspected Prince Mastowix of infidelity to the Czar, notwithstanding the trust that was reposed in him; and overhearing Zobriskie mention his name in connection with the giving the letter to Barnwell, he suddenly determined to find out whether or not his suspicions were correct.

Arriving at St. Petersburg, Barnwell was driven to a good hotel, intending while there to finish his visit and deliver the letters meantime, that, however, being only of a slight consideration; for, although he understood that it was a message of importance, it, so far as he was concerned, was only a slight, friendly obligation in the delivering of it to Prince Mastowix, after which he would be free to do as he liked.

Indeed, his mind for the most part was filled with pleasant thoughts of beautiful Laura Clark, and the pleasure he should enjoy when they met at Berlin, never to part again if he could have his way about matters which agitated his heart, and to which he knew she was not at all indifferent, if she really were not quite as willing as he was.

Tobasco also took quarters at the same hotel, yet so guarded had he kept himself aloof during all the time, there was not the slightest danger of Barnwell's ever knowing that he had been a fellow-passenger, but he never relinquished his watchfulness for a moment, for if young Barnwell was in his apartments he knew it, and if he was abroad he was sure to be almost as near as his shadow.

The third day after his arrival, and after he had learned how to reach Prince Mastowix, he set out for his palace.

But how little the young man knew of the ways of Russian aristocracy!

Arriving at the prince's palace, he found it guarded at every point by police, and when he made known to them that he had private and important business with his highness, he at once became an object of more than ordinary interest, especially when it was learned that he was an American.

Tobasco, now in the disguise of a Russian peasant, was close at hand, watching everything, while pretending to be a subject for alms.

An officer took Barnwell's name in to the prince, and finally returned, saying that he was empowered to receive any communication the stranger might have for Prince Mastowix, and was astounded almost when the young American told him that he must see the prince in person.

In those Nihilistic days such a proceeding as that would never do, and after further consultation with the prince, the detectives and officers were ordered to search the stranger for concealed weapons.

"No, sir, I refuse," said Barnwell. "I am a simple American citizen, with a message for Prince Mastowix, and if that is not sufficient I will retire."

This was unheard-of audacity; but one of the officers volunteered to say to the prince what the young American had said, all the while believing that the youngster would ordered under arrest for his presumption.

Contrary to expectations, however, the prince ordered stranger to be admitted to his presence, and he was accordingly conducted thither.

"Well?" said the prince, looking at him inquiringly.

"Are you the Prince Mastowix?" asked Barnwell, calmly.

"I am. Who are you?"

"William Barnwell, of New York, United States of America," said he proudly.

"Well, what have you to do or say to me?" asked the prince, haughtily.

"Only this, prince, and a very little. On the eve of leaving New York I was approached by one Paul Zobriskie---"

"Silence!" shouted the prince, and after waiting a moment, as though to recover himself, he waved his attendants from the room. Then, turning to Barnwell, he beckoned him approach nearer. "What did you say?" he asked, in a lower key.

"Simply what I said, sir; and to finish the business between us, allow me to deliver you this letter," said he, presenting to him, feeling somewhat aggrieved on account of the arrogant manner in which he was received both by the prince and his attendants.

The prince took the letter, and Barnwell was about to retire.

"Wait!" said the Prince, severely.

"My mission is fulfilled, sir."

"Wait until we see whether it is or not," replied the haughty aristocrat, and he proceeded to open the letter.

Whatever it contained, it suddenly made a change in facial expression of the prince, who glanced from it to Barnwell.

"Do you know this Paul Zobriskie?" he asked, earnestly.

"No. I never met him until I saw him on the steamer, and he asked me to deliver this letter to you," said he.

"Are you sure of that?"

"I am."

"And know nothing about him?"

"Nothing further than hearing of him as a socialistic agitator."

"And you know nothing of the contents of this letter?"

"Nothing whatever. He told me nothing further than that it was important, and that I must give it to no one but you."

"What are you?"

"A simple American citizen, sir."

"Do you belong to any secret society?"

"No, sir."

The prince regarded him a moment, and then turned to read more of the letter, wondering at the same time why Zobriskie should have trusted such a fatal document to any but a tried and trusted Nihilist.

The conclusion he arrived at was that there was treachery somewhere, or that there was a possibility of such a contingency, and to guard himself he resolved to put the unsuspecting stranger under arrest.

Without a word further, he touched a bell, and in an instant three gendarmes presented themselves.

"This man is a prisoner; remove him to the castle for further disposition," said he.

Young Barnwell started in surprise. What did it mean?

The officers approached him, when he turned to the prince.

"What is the meaning of this, sir?" he demanded indignantly.

"State prisoners are not always allowed to know State reasons."

"But I am no State prisoner; I am an American citizen, and I demand to know why I am arrested."

"You may learn in time."

"I will appeal to the American Minister, to the Czar of Russia even."

"No, you will not. Away with him!" said the prince, determined above all things that he should make no such an appeal or have a chance to do so.

"Do you really mean this outrage?"

"Call it what you like, but wait and see," he replied, waving him away.

The officers knew nothing but duty, and in spite of young Barnwell's protests and struggles, he was overpowered and dragged away in the direction of the Bastile.

Tobasco followed closely after them. What he had seen and heard confirmed his suspicions that the prince was a traitor, and that he had ordered Barnwell's arrest through fear.

As for Barnwell, he, of course, saw that it was an outrage of the deepest dye, and he had no idea of submitting to it.

His American blood was up, and, knowing his own great strength, he watched his opportunity as the guards led him from the prince's quarters towards the Bastile. He suddenly wrenched himself away, and knocked one of them sprawling upon the courtyard flags.

Quick as thought almost, he sent another of them toppling against the wall of a building.

A third was on the point of firing at him with his musket, when Tobasco dealt him a stinging blow from behind, that sent him sprawling on top of his comrades.

"Quick, young man! Escape by the gate yonder, and fly to the American minister for protection," said Tobasco; and without waiting for an explanation he fled, and in an instant more was on the street, while Tobasco quickly secreted himself in a deep doorway, for his work was not done yet.

Recovering from their stunned condition, the gendarmes raised an alarm in the courtyard, which quickly brought out the prince's followers, and even the prince himself rushed from his room into the courtyard, to ascertain the cause of the alarm.

Flitting like a shadow almost, Tobasco ran from his hiding-place into the office that the prince had hurriedly left; and seeing the paper and envelope lying upon his table, hastily secured it and again returned to his hiding-place.

It did not take Prince Mastowix but a moment to find out that the young American had escaped from his guard, and he was wild with rage.

"After him, laggards! What are you standing here for? Retake him, or I'll have every rascal of you knouted!" he roared.

But this exhibition on his part only made the confusion greater for a moment.

Finally, without any attempt at order, a rush was made by servants and soldiers for the gate to join in the pursuit.

Tobasco, looking more like a peasant servant than anything else, mingled in the rush, shouting the loudest of any of them in urging the pursuit, and in this way, escaped from the palace without exciting the least suspicion.

Once free from the palace-gate, young Barnwell had no idea whatever of the best way to go, but being determined to escape at all hazards, he shot off to the right and ran like a deer.

But he had only time to gain a block or so ahead before the mob of soldiers and retainers rushed out and caught sight of him.

Then the pace was quickened. Barnwell glanced over his shoulder, and saw them coming after in the shape of a howling mob, and he plunged onward at still greater speed, going he knew not where, nor caring either, so long as he got away, and could find direction to the American Minister's residence.

He asked several as he ran for direction, but no one seemed to understand his language, and the mob at his heels, augmented by the police and citizens, was growing larger and larger every moment.

But still he kept the lead, and paid no attention to several shots fired after him.

He was a stranger in the city, and not knowing which way to go, was finally captured, roughly taken in charge, and handcuffed.

In the meantime, Tobasco made his escape complete, but stopped to see the soldiers drag the young American back to the prison to which tyranny had consigned him.

The excitement among the populace ran high, and rumor had it that the authorities had captured an important Nihilist official; and this, of course, roused that numerous and much-dreaded body of secret destroyers to learn, if possible, through their agents, all the particulars of the case.

William Barnwell was thrown into a dark and loathsome dungeon, from whence the body of many a poor prisoner had been borne after death, produced by torture and starvation.

"Curses on my luck!" he muttered, after collecting his thoughts for a moment. "It must be that I have been betrayed by that Paul Zobriskie into the hands of the Russian authorities. But what could have been his motive, when I was an innocent stranger, and only did what I did to accommodate him? What will be the result if I cannot communicate with the American Minister? I am evidently taken for a Nihilist, and goodness only knows what the end of it all will be. Am I destined to die in this horrible place, without having a chance to communicate with my friends? The thought is dreadful! It must not, shall not be; but--stay. What has been the fate of other good men who have fallen into the hands of this despotic government? That fate may be mine, and I sent to Siberia without even a trial. Oh, the thought will drive me mad!" he cried, and bowed his head, as he sat there on the filthy straw of his unlighted dungeon.