Chapter VIII: Introduction (8)

‘In accordance with my custom in such cases,’ continues Danevitch in his notes, ‘I lost not a moment when I took up the case in telegraphing to every outlet from Russia, including the frontier posts. I knew, therefore, that at every frontier station and every outlet luggage would be subjected to very critical examination, and the thieves would experience great difficulty indeed in getting clear. But there was another aspect of the case that could not be overlooked, and it caused me considerable anxiety; it was this--the gems could be carried away a few at a time. A woman, for instance, could conceal about her person small packets of them, and excite no suspicion. To examine everyone personally at the frontiers was next to impossible. There was another side, however, to this view, and it afforded me some consolation. To get the gems out of the country in the way suggested would necessitate a good many journeys on the part of the culprits, and one person making the same journey several times would excite suspicion. If several people were employed in the work, they would be certain to get at loggerheads sooner or later, and the whole business would be exposed. I always made it a sort of axiom that “when thieves fall out honest men come by their due,” and experience had taught me that thieves invariably fall out when it comes to a division of plunder. Of course, I was perfectly alive to the fact that it would not do to rely upon that; something more was wanted: it was of the highest importance to prevent the stolen property being carried far away, and all my energies were concentrated to that end.

‘I have already given my reasons for thinking that at this stage the stolen jewels had not been removed from the Kremlin. Although there are no regular streets, as understood, in the Kremlin, there are numerous shops and private residences, the latter being inhabited for the most part by the officials and other employés of the numerous Government establishments. The result is that within the Kremlin itself there is a very large population.’

It will be seen from these particulars that the whole affair bristled with difficulties, and, given that the thieves were sharp, shrewd, and cautious, they might succeed in defeating Danevitch’s efforts. One of the first things he did was to request that every sentry at the Kremlin gates should be extra vigilant, and subject passers to and fro to more than ordinary observation, while if they had reason to suspect any particular person, that person should be instantly arrested. The precautions which were thus taken reduced the matter to a game of chance. If the thieves betrayed themselves by an incautious or careless act they would lose. On the other hand, if they were skilful and vigilant the detective would be defeated; and as the stakes were very large, and to lose meant death to them (that being the penalty in Russia for such a crime), it was presumable that they would not easily sacrifice themselves. At this stage Danevitch himself confessed that he would not have ventured to give an opinion as to which of the two sides would win.

The more Danevitch studied the subject, the more he became convinced that the thieves must have been in league with someone connected with the Treasury Department. In face of the fact that false keys had been used, the theory of collusion could not be ignored; the difficulty was to determine who was the most likely person to have proved traitor to his trust. Maximoff bore a high character; General Kuntzler had reposed full confidence in him. The subordinates were also men of good repute. That, however, was not a guarantee that they were proof against temptation. Nevertheless, Danevitch could not get hold of anything that was calculated to arouse his suspicion against any particular individual. If there was a guilty man amongst them, he would, of course, be particularly careful not to commit any act, or utter any word, calculated to betray him, knowing as he did that Danevitch was on the alert.

When several days had passed, and General Kuntzler had been consigned to his tomb, Danevitch had an interview with his sister, Anna Ivanorna. She was in a state of great mental excitement and nervous prostration; and Lydia, the General’s adopted daughter, was also very ill. Anna was a somewhat remarkable woman. She was a tall, big-boned, determined-looking individual, with a soured expression of face and restless gray eyes. Her manner of speaking, her expression of face, and a certain cynicism, which made itself apparent in her talk, gave one the notion that she was a disappointed woman.

‘This is a sad business,’ began Danevitch, after some preliminary remarks.

‘Very sad,’ she answered. ‘It has cost my brother his life.’

‘He evidently felt it very keenly,’ said Danevitch.

‘A man must feel a thing keenly to commit suicide, unless he is a weak-brained fool, incapable of any endurance,’ she replied with a warmth that amounted almost to fierceness. After a pause, she added: ‘My brother was far from being a fool. He was a strong man--a clever man.’

‘So I understand. Did he make any observation to you before he committed the rash act?’

‘No.’

‘Yes, he did, Anna,’ cried out Lydia from the couch on which she was lying, wrapped in rugs.

Anna turned upon her angrily, and exclaimed:

‘How do you know? Hold your tongue. He made no observation, I say.’

Lydia was evidently annoyed at being spoken to in such a manner, and she replied with spirit, as she raised herself on her elbow:

‘Don’t snap at me like that, Anna. I know perfectly well. My poor father said over and over again that he had been betrayed, that there had been a traitor in the house. It was that that distracted him. He couldn’t bear the thought of it.’

‘And who do you suppose the traitor was?’ Anna asked angrily. ‘You are always thinking wrong of people.’

Lydia did not take any notice of this. She lay still, and seemed to be suffering; keen mental anguish.

‘Have you any opinion how the robbery was committed?’ asked Danevitch of Anna.

‘No.’

‘But surely you must have some idea.’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Do you think it possible, now, that such a crime could have been committed without a confederate in the camp?’

‘What do you mean?’ demanded the woman sternly, as though she resented the bare suspicion which the question implied.

‘My meaning is plain, surely. An utter stranger to the place could not have done this deed.’

‘I suppose he couldn’t. But whoever did it couldn’t have been an utter stranger.’

‘Do I understand from that that you suggest the culprit or culprits are people who were employed here?’

‘No, I don’t suggest that. But it stands to reason that anyone undertaking a deed of this kind would be careful to make himself acquainted with the building.’

‘And how do you think he did that?’

‘You know as well as I do that the place is open to the public. What is there to prevent anyone studying the place?’

‘Nothing whatever, so far as the public part of it goes. But, unless with the aid of a confederate, I do not quite see how anyone could become acquainted with those parts where the public are not admitted.’

‘Well, Mr. Danevitch,’ said Anna, with a decisiveness which was meant to clinch the argument, ‘I am not an expert like you, nor do I know anything at all about the matter, therefore don’t bother me with any more questions. I am troubled enough, and have enough on my mind without this affair. I want to forget it.’

‘I make every allowance for you,’ replied Danevitch. ‘I quite understand that your feelings are lacerated, but I thought it was within the bounds of possibility that you might be able to throw some light on the matter. However, I will not disturb you further, but take my leave.’

Anna showed him out with a sigh of relief, and she shut the door with a bang that indicated too plainly how glad she was to get rid of him. At this stage, Danevitch writes, he felt in a quandary. There were certain signs that suggested probabilities, but it was not easy to determine just then whether or not the signs were anything more than shadows, by which he might be misled. Speculation and theory were all he had to guide him, and he was only too well aware that the most astute of reasoners is apt to be misled. What necessarily concerned him was the danger of being led out of the true track by a false sign. He was not indifferent, of course, to the fact that he had made some progress--that is to say, he had determined pretty conclusively how the thieves had left the Treasury buildings when once they had secured their booty. But what was of still greater importance was to discover how they got in. Could he solve that part of the problem, he felt sure it would give him many points.

It was remarkable about Danevitch that, while he was often mistrustful about his own instincts, he seldom erred. He had made human nature so close a study that the person who, as the saying is, could have thrown dust in his eyes would have had to have been preternaturally clever. He maintained, and proved it over and over again, that the face was so certain an index to what was passing in the mind that every thought of the brain was communicated instantly to the features, which indicated it as unmistakably as a delicately-balanced needle notes the slightest current of electricity. Of course, it was necessary to understand these face-signs. That in itself is a science. Indeed, the power to understand it is a gift, and he who fully possesses it is what is termed to-day ‘a thought-reader.’ Danevitch did not call himself that, but he possessed the power in a marked degree, nevertheless; and no one could be indifferent to the extraordinary strength and power of his eyes. When he looked at you, you felt somehow as if he was looking right into your brain. Mr. Gladstone is said to have that peculiar eye, and it can readily be understood that anyone with guilty knowledge having to meet the piercing gaze of such an eye is almost sure to betray himself by face-signs, which to the expert are full of meaning. Danevitch had brought this study to such perfection that it proved invaluable to him, and often afforded him a clue which otherwise he would never have got. Another strong trait in his character was the persistency with which he stuck to an idea when once he had thought it out. That, again, was largely responsible for the success that attended his efforts in the art of solving criminal problems. Of course, his ideas were generally very sound ones, and the result of much cogitation. He never jumped to hasty conclusions.

The foregoing little disquisition is not out of place in view of what follows, and will certainly add to the reader’s interest.

About three weeks after that interview between Danevitch and Anna Ivanorna, three men were seated in a restaurant situated in what is known as the Zemlidnoi-gorod, which, being interpreted, means ‘earthen town,’ and it is so called because at one time it was surrounded by an earthen rampart. This part of Moscow contains a number of drinking-places, spirit-stores, shops, cafés and restaurants. The one in which the three men were seated was a very typical Russian fifth-rate house. The ceiling was black with smoke. Flimsy and frouzy curtains hung at the windows; the floor was sanded; long, rough, wooden tables, forms, and common chairs constituted the furniture. At one end of the room was a small counter, covered with lead, on which stood sundry bottles, glasses, and plates of caviare and sandwiches; at the other end was the indispensable stove--a huge affair with a massive convoluted iron flue, that was suggestive of a boa constrictor.

The night being very cold, the three men were crowded round the stove, engaged in deep and earnest conversation. Two of the men were young; one about two or three and twenty, the other a year or two older. They were well dressed, and apparently belonged to a class not given to frequenting drinking-places of that kind. The third man was of a somewhat striking appearance. He was swarthy as a gipsy--a black beard and moustache, black eyes, black hair, cropped close to the skull. In his ears he wore small gold rings, and his style, manner, and dress proclaimed him unmistakably a seafaring man.

Presently the glazed door of the shop swung open, and a Jew tumbled in. He was heavily bearded; on his head was a small black, tightly-fitting skull-cap. He wore long boots, with his trousers, which were very baggy, tucked into the tops, and a fur-lined coat, which must have been in existence for a generation at least. He divested himself of this coat and hung it on a peg, and then ordered vodka and caviare.

The three men ceased their conversation when the stranger entered; and he, when he had finished his repast, rose, and with somewhat unsteady gait, as if he had been drinking, walked to the stove and asked if he might be allowed a seat there. The other three, with by no means good grace, made room for him. The seafaring man was smoking a very black, very strong cigar. The Jew produced from his pocket a huge pipe, and, filling it with coarse tobacco, asked the seafarer for a light, which was given. When his pipe was fairly in swing, he said to the man with the cigar:

‘Unless I’m mistaken, you reek of the salt sea.’

‘I suppose I do,’ answered the other brusquely. ‘Any way, I’ve been soaked with it often enough. Where are you from?’

‘Constantinople.’

‘So. A trader, I suppose?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do you trade in?’

‘Anything on earth, so long as it will turn me in money.’

‘Bah!’ sneered one of the young men--‘just like you Jew dogs. It’s always money with you--money, money. It’s your only prayer.’

‘In that respect I’m not sure that there is much difference between the Jew dog and the grasping Christian. But I don’t want to quarrel with you. I’m a stranger in the town. Will you drink at my expense?’

‘Yes,’ answered the three as one man.

So drink was ordered, and for a time the conversation was friendly and general, and when it flagged a little the Jew said:

‘That’s a curious robbery that has taken place lately.’

‘What robbery?’ asked one of the young men, eyeing the Jew keenly.

‘The robbery of the Crown jewels.’

‘Oh yes; very curious.’

‘By Father Abraham!’ exclaimed the Jew, with a great puffing out of his breath, ‘but I should like to call some of the precious stones mine. The God of Jacob! I wonder what has become of them. They haven’t caught the thieves yet, I suppose?’

‘No,’ was the curt answer.

‘Ah! they are clever fellows; must be wonderfully clever to do such a deed. But I expect they’ll be laid by the heels yet.’

‘No fear,’ answered one of the youngsters. ‘You can depend upon it they know what they are about.’

‘Ah! just so, just so,’ mused the Jew--‘just so. It’s a clever bit of business--clever, clever; by God it is! I wonder, now, what has become of those jewels. They are worth risking body and soul for.’

‘I say, stranger,’ remarked the seafarer, ‘you had better be careful what you say, or you may land yourself in trouble.’

‘True, true, true!’ moaned the Jew. ‘But, God in heaven, only to think of all those precious gems! It almost turns one’s brain.’

He sank into a moody silence, and stared fixedly at the stove, as though he was dreaming dreams about the gems. The other three men conversed in low tones for a little time, until the two younger ones rose up, said ‘Good-night,’ and left, for the hour was getting late. Then the Jew seemed suddenly to wake up from his reverie, and he asked the seafarer if he was going.

‘No; I am lodging here,’ was the answer.

‘So. That reminds me. Landlord, can I have a bed?’

He was told he could. There was some haggling about the price to be paid, but the matter was amicably settled in the end, and the Jew invited the seafarer to have some more vodka. True to the traditions of his kind the world over, the sailor man accepted the invitation, and the two sat drinking until the landlord came to remind them it was time they retired.

The sailor was pretty far gone in his cups, and the Jew offered to assist him up the stairs to bed. With some difficulty the pair managed to mount the greasy, rickety stairs to where the sleeping chambers were, and the Jew accompanied the sailor man to his room, and then from his capacious pocket he produced a bottle of vodka, and they set to work to discuss it. Presently the Jew murmured in a maudlin way, as his thoughts still ran upon the gems:

‘By Father Abraham, but it was a big haul! Why, there must have been a million roubles’ worth of them.’

‘Of what?’ asked the skipper, who, though pretty well soaked, seemed to have his wits about him.

‘The stolen jewels,’ mumbled the Jew. ‘I would buy every one of them at a price; I would, so help me God!’

‘Now, what price would you give?’

‘How could I tell--how could I tell, unless I saw them?’

The sailor man became thoughtful and silent, and the Jew sank down in a corner like a sack, mumbling incoherently guttural sentences, in which the words ‘gems, jewels, gold,’ predominated. Presently the sailor was overcome by his potations, and stretching himself on the bed, boots and all, was soon snoring in drunken sleep. A couple of hours later the Jew crept from the room, sought his own chamber, and was speedily sound asleep in the bed.

The next morning the two men drank their tea together, and having lighted one of his long black cigars, the sailor invited the Jew forth into the city.

‘You say you are from Constantinople?’ asked the sailor, as they walked together.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you reside there?’

‘Yes.’

‘In what part?’

‘The Jews’ quarter.’

‘And, I suppose, like all your tribe, you don’t know your own wealth?’

The Jew sighed dolefully.

‘Alas, alas!’ he exclaimed; ‘by Abraham in heaven, I swear I am very poor.’

‘Ah! you all say that.’

‘It’s true, it’s true. But why do you ask?’

‘Oh, nothing; only, if you had been rich, I might have put something in your way by which you could have doubled your riches.’

‘What is it? What is it?’ cried the Jew eagerly. ‘Tell me; I can get money. Thousands, tens of thousands, millions of roubles, if needs be. But tell me what it is. I want to grow rich; I want money--want it by sackfuls. It is my dream; I worship it.’

‘Ah,’ grunted the sailor, with a smack of his lips, ‘you are all alike. Have you any friends in Moscow?’

‘No; I am a stranger. I have come to trade. I will lend money at interest on good security, or I will buy anything that I can sell again.’

The sailor became very thoughtful. He puffed away at his rank cigar like a man who was deeply absorbed, and the Jew ambled on by his side, mumbling to himself. Presently the sailor addressed him:

‘Do you stay in the same lodgings to-night?’

‘I do.’

‘Good. I’ll meet you at nine o’clock, and may be able to put something in your way. I must leave you now.’

‘Count on me,’ said the Jew. ‘If we can do a deal together, I’ll put money in your purse.’

‘You bet you will! You don’t suppose I’m going to serve you without serving myself. I don’t love your race enough for that. It’s a matter of convenience. But till to-night, adieu.’

‘By the way, how are you called?’

‘I am known as Captain Blok. I command a small trader doing business in the Black Sea.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘She is being overhauled at Azov.’

‘Will you be alone to-night?’

‘No. The two friends you saw last night may be with me.’

‘Good. This looks like business. I will meet you without fail.’

The sailor went off, and the Jew continued his jaunt through the town. When nine o’clock came, it found him by the big stove in the restaurant. There were several other customers there, but he held aloof from them, for one had a little before called him ‘a dog of a Jew,’ saying he had no business to be there amongst Christians, and tried to pick a quarrel with him. As a quarter-past nine struck, Captain Blok entered. He was alone. He addressed a few preliminary remarks to the Jew, then requested that he would follow him to his bedroom.

‘What is your name, Jew?’ asked Blok, as he shut the door.

‘Nikolai--Israel Nikolai.’

‘Are you a Russian?’

‘I was born in Poland, but have been trading in Constantinople and the Levant for many years.’

‘You are good for a deal in a big way?’

‘Yes.’

‘And can be secret?’

‘As the grave.’

At this point the door opened, and Blok’s companions of the previous night entered. They looked at Blok inquiringly, then at the Jew suspiciously.

‘He’s right,’ said Blok. Then turning to the Jew, he continued: ‘Now look here, Israel Nikolai, you say you can command money?’

‘Yes, to any extent.’

‘Very well; now, we’ve got some stuff to sell, and we are going to take you to see it. The stuff is contraband, therefore you must be careful. And if you play us false, just as sure as God Almighty is up in heaven, your throat will be cut, and your dirty carcase will be flung into the river Maskva.’

The Jew smote his breast, and wailed out with passionate eagerness:

‘Trust me--trust me! To those whom I serve, I am as stanch as steel.’

‘That’s right. Now, then, come with us.’

The four men descended the greasy staircase, and went forth into the street. It was an intensely dark night. A few hazy stars were alone visible in the black sky. The street-lamps in that part were very poor affairs, and gave but little light. The four proceeded for a short distance; then Blok said:

‘Nikolai, before we go any further, you must let us blindfold you.’

The Jew protested, but at last yielded, and a thick scarf was bound about his eyes. Then one of the men took his hand and led him. They walked along in silence for quite half an hour, until, by the sound of flowing water, the Jew knew he was near the river. A halt was made. There was the grating of keys in a lock, a door was opened, and Israel was led forward into a passage, while the door was locked and barred. He was then taken down a flight of stairs, where the bandage was removed from his eyes, and a light was procured. He found himself in a cellar, with an arched brick roof, from which water dripped, while the floor of red brick was slimy and foul. The place was furnished with a single trestle table and a stool or two. In one corner was a large trunk, bound with cowhide. This was opened, and some bundles lifted out, placed on the table, and untied, and there were revealed to the wondering Jew heaps of precious stones, including diamonds, rubies, amethysts, pearls, sapphires, turquoises. At the sight of the gems the Jew rubbed his hands together, and his eyes glistened with almost unnatural brilliancy.

‘Father Abraham!’ he exclaimed. ‘What wealth! what a fortune! Are they all real? Let me feel them; let me examine them.’

Blok so held the lamp that its rays were thrown full on to the heaps of gems, and the three men watched the Jew’s every movement. He examined the stones carefully, picked out some of the finest, weighing them in his hands, holding them close to the light so as to see them better, then placing them in little heaps.

A full hour was spent in this way. But few remarks were made, though every now and again the Jew broke into an exclamation of delight. At length Blok asked Nikolai what he thought of them.

‘Splendid! wonderful! magnificent!’ was the gasped answer.

‘Now, then, are you open to trade?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you buy the lot?’

‘At what figure?’

‘A million roubles.’

The Jew started back with a look of disgust on his face.

‘It is too much--too much!’ he almost screamed. ‘They are not worth it.’

‘You lie, you dog!’ put in one of the young men. ‘You know they are worth a good deal more. But we want to sell them quickly, and you shall have them as a bargain for a million roubles.’

Nikolai groaned, swore, protested, declared by all the fathers that the price was outrageous, and at last, when he had exhausted himself, he wound up by offering seventy-five thousand roubles for the lot. After much haggling, the three men agreed to take the price, and Nikolai said he would go next day to the Bank of Moscow, to which he had letters, and draw the money, and it was arranged that the four men were to meet the following night outside of the restaurant, and proceed again to the cellar, where the money would be exchanged for the jewels. And Blok added:

‘As soon as the bargain’s completed, you had better clear out. You can travel with me to Azov, if you like, and I’ll give you a cheap passage to Constantinople.’

The Jew turned to Blok, with a glance full of meaning, and replied:

‘I may sail with you, but I’ll send my jewels a safer way.’

The business, so far, being concluded, Nikolai was once more blindfolded. The lamp was extinguished, and they all left the house together. After going some distance, the bandage was removed from the Jew’s eyes. The two young men went away, and Blok and Israel continued their walk to their lodgings.

The following morning Nikolai told Blok that he was going to the bank to arrange about the money, but that the deal would have to take place that evening in their bedroom at the café, as he would not trust himself with them in the cellar with so much money about him. To this Blok answered that the transaction would have to be arranged in the cellar, that everything would be perfectly square and fair.

Reluctantly the Jew yielded, and went away. He met the captain again in the evening at the restaurant, and Blok anxiously inquired if he had got the money, whereupon the Jew pulled from a deep pocket inside his vest a bundle of notes, the sight of which caused the captain’s eyes to sparkle.

A little later they set off, being met on the route by the two young men. Nikolai resolutely declined to be blindfolded again. He said there was no necessity for it. He also warned his companions that he was well armed, and was prepared to resent any treachery. They laughed, and said he was a fool not to see that they were anxious to trade, and not likely to offer violence, which would imperil their own safety.

The house by the river was at last reached. It had formerly been a store of some sort, but had apparently long been untenanted, and was falling into decay. One of the young men had inserted the key into the lock of the door, and was about to turn it, when a whistle was blown, and almost as if it was by magic the four found themselves surrounded by armed men, who seemed to come through the earth. Before they could offer the slightest resistance, Blok and the two young men were seized and ironed, and a guard set over them. Then a police officer, the Jew, and three or four other men, entered the premises, descended to the cellar, and, having ascertained that the gems were in the trunk, they bore the trunk out, and placed it on a cart that was in readiness, and under a strong escort the stolen jewels were conveyed to the Treasury, where several high officials were waiting to receive them; and Blok and his companions realized that they had been tricked, trapped, and betrayed by the ‘dog of a Jew,’ who was none other than Danevitch.

He says it was one of the proudest moments of his life, for his part had been played with consummate art, and his triumph was complete. It remains now to explain how he managed to get on the track of his men, and net them so cleverly.

After his interview with Anna Ivanorna, he began to think that she could throw some light on the mystery if she liked, and he had her shadowed. He ascertained from Lydia that Ivanorna had a son about five-and-twenty. He had paid court to Lydia, but she did not like him. A few months before the robbery this young man had spent a fortnight with his mother during the temporary absence of General Kuntzler. His mother was blindly devoted to him, although he was known to be an idle, dissolute vagabond. He had been well educated, and had once held a position in the Post Office, but had been discharged for some irregularity. His name was Peter, and one night, some days after the robbery, he and his mother were seen to meet in a lonely part of the suburbs.

From that moment a close watch was kept on Peter’s movements, and it was ascertained that he was associated with another young man, called Maiefski. They were always together, and in a little while were joined by Blok, who was Peter’s half-cousin. The old disused store on the banks of the river was taken in Maiefski’s name, ostensibly to store grain there; but little by little the gems from the stolen articles, which were ruthlessly broken up, were conveyed from a house in the Kremlin which Peter rented to the place on the river bank.

Blok had secured lodgings in the miserable restaurant in the poor quarter of the earthen city, as he hoped thereby to escape attracting any notice. At this restaurant the three rascals were in the habit of meeting. Then it was that Danevitch, being sure of his ground, assumed so successfully the rôle of the Jew.

On the night when he and Captain Blok staggered up to the latter’s room, Danevitch was perfectly sober, although he assumed the gait and manner of an intoxicated person. When Blok had gone to sleep, Danevitch searched his person, and in a pocket-book found letters of a most compromising character. They seemed to show that the first idea was that the three men were to travel singly to Azov, each man carrying as many of the gems as he could without causing suspicions. They were to be deposited on Blok’s vessel, and when all was ready Blok and his companions were to sail away to Constantinople, where they hoped to dispose of the gems, but if not, they were to take a journey to Persia, where precious stones could always be sold.

The appearance of the Jew on the scene altered their plans, and they thought if they could only get him to buy them their risk would be greatly lessened, and the moment they touched the money they were prepared to clear out, and seek safety in some other country. Their little scheme, however, was entirely frustrated, thanks to the cleverness of Danevitch.

At Peter’s lodgings the battered gold of the stolen property was found, but ultimately the Polish crown was restored almost to its original state, and may still be seen in the museum at Moscow.

As the plot of the robbery was gradually unfolded, it was proved that Anna Ivanorna was the victim of her perfidious son. She was a weak, rather stupid woman--at any rate, where he was concerned--and she fell a victim to his wiles and wickedness. If she did not actually assist him, she shut her eyes while he made wax impressions of various keys, and on the night of the robbery she unquestionably helped him and his companion, Maiefski, who was secretly admitted. It is possible that, when Kuntzler heard of the crime, he had some suspicion that his sister knew something about it, and, unable to face the awful shame of exposure, he took his life.

Neither Maximoff nor his subordinates had anything to do with the robbery. They were all exonerated after a most exhaustive investigation, which led to the conviction of the guilty parties, who, with the exception of Anna, were sent to the Siberian mines for life. She was condemned to ten years’ incarceration in the prison fortress of Schlusselburgh. That was practically a living death.

THE STRANGE STORY OF A SECRET TREATY.

‘I received orders,’ says Danevitch, ‘to proceed without delay to the official residence in St. Petersburg of Prince Ignatof,[A] who was then Minister of Foreign Affairs. He had the reputation of being one of the most powerful Ministers who had ever held the position in Russia. It was said of him, as it used to be said of Bismarck, that he was a man of blood and iron. He was dead to emotion; he had no nerves; he was pitiless; he was anti-everything that wasn’t Russian; but he was also a born diplomatist--clever, brilliant, unscrupulous, far-seeing, polished as a rapier, and as deadly as a rapier when occasion called for it.

‘Such was the common report about him, and no doubt it was, in the main, true. He was a widower, with one grown-up daughter. There was a deadly feud, however, between them, and he had disowned her, as she had chosen to marry against his will, and very much beneath her, as her father averred. Her husband was in the consular service. His name was Kasin; he was a member of a middle-class family who had made money in trade; but Kasin himself was said to be poor, and almost entirely dependent upon his salary.

‘These facts were common property, and naturally it must have caused the Prince great annoyance to know that his daughter’s name was in everyone’s mouth, and that she was vulgarly referred to as the wife of a poor devil of a consul, who found it difficult to rub two roubles together. Caste is very strong in Russia, and the line of demarcation separating class from class is exceedingly well defined.

‘The Prince was an utter stranger to me; I had heard much about him, but had never seen him. On being ushered into his bureau, I beheld a small-made, delicate-looking man, with a remarkable and striking face. The mouth was small and firm; the nose prominent; the eyes deep-set, and of exceptional brilliancy; the eyebrows were thin, but well defined; and the forehead, in proportion to the small, sharply-cut features, seemed enormous. He was slightly bald in front, and such hair as he had was turning gray. His face was clean-shaven. When his lips parted, he revealed a splendid set of teeth, absolutely without a flaw.

‘As I looked upon this remarkable man, everything I had heard about his personal character seemed to me to be more than confirmed. It was impossible to study the mouth without feeling that it was capable of uttering cruel, cutting, bitter things. It was no less impossible not to understand that the small, brilliant eyes could peer into men’s brains, and almost read their secret thoughts. Every line of his face, every feature, every glance, indicated an iron, a relentless, will; and when he spoke, the smooth, incisive tones confirmed this. His hands were small, well shaped, but sinewy, as were his wrists. This was no doubt due to many years’ practice with the sword and the foil. He was a noted swordsman, had fought many duels, and had always succeeded in either severely wounding or killing his man. Physically and mentally he could be a deadly antagonist; one glance at him was sufficient to determine that fact, for fact it was.

‘He was perusing a document as I entered. He glanced over the edge of the paper, motioned me to be seated, and went on reading.

‘For ten minutes the silence was unbroken, save for the rustle of the paper as he turned over the leaves. Only a man of very pronounced characteristics could have remained silent so long under such circumstances.

‘He finished his manuscript, folded it up, and placed it in a safe. Then he condescended to address me.

‘“You have the reputation of being able to unravel mysteries when other men fail?” he commenced.

‘I could only bow to this.

‘He drew an elegant little penknife from his pocket, and began to trim his nails, but I noted that all the time his piercing eyes were fixed on me.

‘“You are reliable?” was his next remark.

‘It was put in the form of a question. In other men the remark might have seemed commonplace. Coming from the Prince’s lips, it was full of meaning; it even covered a menace. That is to say, it carried with it the implication, “Woe betide you if you are not!”

‘“If I were otherwise,” I answered, “I should not occupy the position I do.”

‘“True,” he replied. “Now, the matter in which I am going to enlist your services is a delicate one.”

‘He paused, and fixed his eyes upon me again, and toyed daintily with the penknife.

‘“I have had to do with many delicate cases,” I said.

‘“Ah! And have been successful?”

‘“More frequently than not.”

‘“You’ve been employed in Government business before?”

‘“Yes,” I answered shortly, as I felt somewhat annoyed at the manner in which he put his questions.

‘“I am impressed with you,” he was good enough to say.

‘I returned no answer to that, merely making a very formal motion of the head.

‘“Our little introduction places us _en rapport_ with each other,” he continued, closing the blade of his penknife with a snap. Even this remark was pregnant with meaning. It really meant that he understood me, or believed that he did. “And now I will tell you the business.”

‘He had been standing up to this moment, but here he seated himself, crossed his legs, and thrust his hands into his pockets. To the ordinary observer he would have appeared as the most unconcerned person in the world, but I could not fail to see that he was a master in the art of restraint. It was not difficult to determine that, beneath the cold, passionless, immobile face was tremendous anxiety, and a suppressed nervous energy, that could only be kept in subjection by extraordinary will-power.

‘“A special, confidential, and trusted courier,” he continued, “arrived here yesterday afternoon, and placed in my hands the draft of a secret treaty of the very greatest importance.”

‘Here he paused again, and looked at me in his peculiar manner, as if he was trying to thoroughly understand how I was affected by the information he was giving me. Or, on the other hand, it might have been that he had not quite made up his mind whether or not I was a fit and proper person to be entrusted with State business of such a momentous nature.

‘“Pray proceed, Prince,” I said, with the greatest unconcern.

‘“Bah!” he muttered, almost inaudibly, allowing irritation to display itself for a brief instant. His irritation arose, I inferred, because he failed to read me as easily as he imagined he could do. Perhaps that was not quite the case, but it was something of the kind. The exclamation had scarcely left his lips when he broke into a smile--a cold, cynical smile, but full of meaning. “That draft has been stolen,” he added abruptly, and watched to see what effect that announcement would have upon me.

‘But I merely said:

‘“I anticipated that.”

‘“Why?” he asked sharply.

‘“By your manner, Prince.”

‘He smiled again, and said caustically:

‘“I didn’t know I was so shallow, and could be so easily fathomed. But pardon me; I had forgotten for the moment that you are a master in your craft. We shall get on together. Yes, you are clever; the draft has been stolen. What that means you will better understand when I tell you that it may possibly plunge this country into war.”

‘“I recognise the seriousness of the matter, Prince,” I said, “and, seeing how very serious it is, I would suggest that there should be no restraint, no reserve. If I am to be of use, I must not only have a free hand, but be trusted absolutely.”

‘“You are right, you are right,” he replied quickly. “But the whole business is fraught with such terrible potentialities that extreme caution is needed.”

‘He rose, and paced up and down for some moments, still keeping his hands in his pockets. His face betrayed no agitation, but his manner did. Nevertheless, his self-restraint was very remarkable. I waited for him to continue the conversation, and presently he stopped and faced me.

‘“Ah, yes!” he said, speaking in an absorbed way. “Well, these are the particulars: The courier, who had been travelling night and day, arrived, as I have already said, yesterday afternoon, and delivered to me a draft of a treaty. Having perused it, I placed it in a despatch-box and locked the box in that safe; but, notwithstanding the precaution, it has been stolen.”

‘“The box?” I asked.

‘“No; the treaty only.”

‘“When did you make that discovery?”

‘“This morning.”

‘“At what time?”

‘“Soon after eight o’clock.”

‘He did not proceed to give me all the particulars in narrative form, as another person might have done, but I had to drag them from him, so to speak, by question and answer.

‘“Where did the courier come from, Prince?” I asked.

‘“Bulgaria.”

‘“Was he aware of the importance of the despatches he carried?”

‘“Certainly.”

‘“You don’t doubt his honesty, I suppose?”

‘“I don’t see the slightest reason for doing so. He is one of the best men in the service.”

‘“Has he been here since?”

‘“No. He was excessively fatigued with his long and trying journey, and being relieved of his responsibility, he said he should sleep for the next twenty-four hours.”

‘“I suppose you have caused a search to be made?”

‘“No,” answered the Prince, with great decisiveness; “what was the use of doing that? The thief who steals a State document of that kind is not likely to leave much trace behind.”

‘“Of course a good many persons have access to your establishment?”

‘“Yes--that is, to the business part of the establishment; but my official residence is private; and this bureau is sacred to myself; no one but very privileged people can enter here.”

‘“Do you suspect anyone?”

‘“No. It’s a mystery.”

‘“But is it clear that, whoever the person is, he must have been well acquainted with this place?”

‘“Yes,” answered the Prince thoughtfully, as he stroked his chin.

‘“He must also have known that the draft had been delivered to you?”

‘“True, true,” the Minister responded, with increased thoughtfulness.

‘“That argues that he was behind the scenes; he knew a good deal of what was going on, and was particularly well acquainted with the importance of the treaty.”

‘“Obviously.”

‘“And the document has been stolen for political purposes?”

‘“Obviously, again.”

‘“Or the thief, being a traitor to his country, if he belongs to this country, was actuated by mercenary motives only, and stole the draft to sell it to our enemies?”

‘The Prince fixed his eye upon me again, and answered very slowly, and with emphasis on every word:

‘“It might be so--perhaps it is so.”

‘“Very well,” I said. “Now, Prince, I must ask you to let your mind dwell upon everyone in touch with you, and tell me if there is a single one of them against whom you might justifiably entertain some suspicion.”

‘“There is no one,” he answered, after a thoughtful pause.

‘“And yet an utter stranger to the place could hardly have committed such a theft?” I suggested.

‘“That seems a feasible theory.”

‘“You’ve no reason to suppose, Prince,” I asked, “that the despatch-box was opened on the bare chance of its containing something of value?”

‘“No. My deliberate opinion is the thief wanted that draft, and that alone. He is an enemy--a traitor; and if he can be identified the penalty of his crime will be death.”

‘“If your opinion is right, the thief, of course, must have known the draft of the treaty was there?”

‘“Quite so.”

‘“Who was likely to have known it, do you think?”

‘Another long pause ensued before the Prince answered. Then he said:

‘“Legitimately, very few indeed. It is one of the State secrets. There are many people who come and go here, and an alert traitor might learn much. I see no sign to guide me. Clearly enough, the thief must have been in possession of certain information supposed to be known to this bureau alone, and he has availed himself of the knowledge to purloin a document of extraordinary political importance. Heaven and earth will have to be moved to stop the thief leaving the country; but, what is of more consequence, he must be prevented sending the document away, or any abstract of it.”

‘“That is easily said,” I remarked, with a smile, for he seemed to me to be underrating the difficulties of the case.

‘“And it must be done,” came from him in a tone so commanding, so authoritative, so decisive, that it revealed the man in his true character. Moreover, his face wore a look of iron determination, and his eyes appeared to glow with a strange, almost unnatural, light. After a pause, he added: “You have the resources of an empire behind you--a well-organized police force, an army of spies, the telegraph system. These things, added to your own skill, should enable you to bring the miscreant to justice, and save the State secret from passing to our enemies.”

‘He spoke with a great deal of subdued force, and I could see that his mental anxiety was painful; and yet there was an outward semblance of calm. The extraordinary power of self-subjection which the man possessed enabled him to almost entirely hide the nervous excitement which would have entirely overcome any ordinary man.

‘The situation was certainly a singularly trying one; for here was a responsible minister of the Crown, who, being entrusted with a State document of stupendous importance, had to confess to its having been stolen within twenty-four hours of its coming into his possession. There appeared to have been great carelessness somewhere, and I could see that the Prince was terribly anxious, in spite of his self-possession.

‘“You say that the document was delivered to you yesterday afternoon, Prince?” I remarked, for I found it necessary to still question, in order to make clear certain points which were very necessary for my own guidance, and his natural reticence kept him from giving me every detail right off.

‘“Yes,” he answered shortly, as though he considered the question superfluous, for he had already told me what I now wanted repeating, but I intended that the question should lead up to others.

‘“How long did the courier remain with you after he had delivered the papers into your hands?”

‘“Not more than five minutes.”

‘“When he left did anyone else come into your bureau?”

‘“No.”

‘“You perused the document, of course?”

‘“I did. And to-day it was to have been laid before his Majesty the Emperor.”

‘“How long did you remain here after the departure of your courier?”

‘“An hour.”

‘“And you are sure nobody came in during that time?”

‘“Absolutely certain.”

‘“And are you as certain, Prince, that nobody was concealed in the room without your knowing it?”

‘The question seemed to startle him, but in an instant he controlled himself again, and, with a cold smile, remarked, as he glanced round the room:

‘“I am quite as certain. You can see for yourself that there is no place where a person could conceal himself.”

‘I had to admit that that was so.

‘“If I have not misunderstood you,” I went on, “when you had perused the document, you placed it in the despatch-box?”

‘“I did. Both safe and box were afterwards locked. I locked them myself, and took the keys with me.”

‘“When did you discover the loss?”

‘“About an hour and a half ago.”

‘“Had the lock of the safe been tampered with?”

‘“Not at all.”

‘“It was intact?”

‘“Certainly.”

‘“And the despatch-box?”

‘“That was intact also.”

‘“Then, both safe and box must have been opened with keys that fitted them?”

‘“That is obvious.”

‘“Are there any duplicate keys in existence?”

‘“Yes; there are duplicate keys of all the despatch-boxes and all the safes in this department, but they are in possession of the Emperor himself. They are kept to guard against any possible contingency.”

‘“But presumably it would be very difficult for any unauthorized person to obtain possession of them?”

‘“I should say that the difficulties in the way are so great that we may dismiss it as being practically impossible.”

‘“That throws us back, then, on the theory that somebody must have got possession of your keys.”

‘“There, again, the difficulties are so great that I cannot think it possible. Come with me, and I will show you the safeguards that are adopted.”

‘I followed him out of the room. At the door of his bureau was an armed sentry. We traversed a long corridor. On each side were doors. At the end of the corridor another sentry was posted. We gained a large square hall, where several liveried servants stood. Two came forward, and partly drew aside the massive velvet curtains hung before the marble stairs; these stairs were covered with massive carpet, into which the feet sank.

‘On the landings more liveried servants were posted. We passed along a carpeted passage to the Prince’s official residence, and entered a magnificent room, and thence into a luxuriously furnished boudoir, where a lady sat alone, perusing a book. For a moment she did not notice me, as I was some little distance behind the Prince, and partly screened by the velvet portière at the door. She jumped up, and was about to throw her arms around his neck, but catching sight of me, she blushed, drew back, and said to him:

‘“I did not expect you so soon.”

‘“I am engaged on some important business, Catarina,” he replied, a little brusquely. “You had better retire for a time.”

‘Without another word she withdrew. She was a young woman, about four or five-and-twenty, and one of the few I have seen whose beauty might be said to be without blemish. Complexion, features, eyes, teeth, lips, hair--the whole figure was perfect. She was ravishing--a woman for whom a man would have perilled his soul.

‘From the boudoir we entered a spacious and magnificently arranged and furnished sleeping apartment. In one corner was a large cupboard. The Prince drew a peculiarly constructed key from his pocket, opened the door, and flung it back, remarking as he did so:

‘“That door is of steel. In that niche in the cupboard all my keys are deposited every night. The door is then secured, and the key of the door, together with many other keys, are given into the charge of the confidential clerk, Vladimir Nicolayeff. He is an institution here, and has been in the Government service upwards of forty years.”

‘“Does he reside on the premises?” I asked the Prince.

‘“He does,” was the answer; “and you will now see how difficult it is, with all these precautions, for anyone to abstract the keys.”

‘In answer to this, I could not refrain from remarking:

‘“And yet, Prince, there is the hard fact that your safe and despatch-box have been opened, and a State document stolen.”

‘He looked very thoughtful and grave as he replied somewhat sternly:

‘“That is so. And what you have got to do is to endeavour to find out how they have been opened, who opened them, and where the papers have gone to. Please commence your work at once, as every hour’s delay is in favour of the thief.”

‘“You must pardon me, Prince,” I remarked; “but I have a few more questions to ask, and you must allow me to work in my own way.”

‘“Oh, certainly!” he exclaimed, a little peevishly, which somewhat astonished me, having regard to the way he had controlled himself so far; but it was another indication of the anxiety that was consuming him.

‘Nor was it to be wondered at, for he himself had hinted that if this State secret was made known to the enemies of Russia it was quite within the bounds of possibility that war might ensue.[B]