Trusia: A Princess of Krovitch

  III

  A DUEL--OF WITS

  Russian affairs had reached the climax anticipated by the world as theresult of her persistent encroachments in the Orient.

  Precipitated by a fiery aggression from Nippon the gasping Slav had beenpushed back across the Yalu. His ships around Port Arthur had beencrippled and destroyed. The astonished nations, Russia included, awoketo a grim realization of war.

  Not only the home staying Japanese, but millions of Russian subjectsjoined in the universal acclaim that hailed these first victories of thewar, presaging that the Banners of the Rising Sun were well able to copewith the armed hordes which held Manchuria in the name of the GreatWhite Czar.

  First grumbling murmurs, next spasmodic disturbances defying policediscipline, afterward outbreaks of thousands of workmen even in thelarger cities, followed by armed and desperate uprisings in differentprovinces, demonstrated with seismic violence that an appreciableportion of domestic sympathy was with the enemies of the Empire.

  The autocracy had been feared only while it had been able to assertuniversal invincibility.

  Plots and counterplots added to the general uneasiness; failing tosoothe them, more than one minister had been dismissed in disgrace.

  In the Imperial Palace a war conference had been called with referenceto a new and startling development. A map lay spread upon the table. Awhite-haired grand duke arose and placed a finger on the spot indicatingthe Russian capital.

  "Here is St. Petersburg," he said dogmatically, "while away off here isKrovitch just across a little river from Germany and Austria. Whilethose greedy neighbors may be held back now, you could not restrain thema moment after revolt broke out in that border province. For twocenturies those Krovitzers have been a defiant and stiff-necked race inspite of every corrective measure adopted to suppress them. Unlessimmediate action is taken to anticipate and abort any movement oftheirs, it may mean the utter destruction of your present southernfrontiers. I am convinced that they will take advantage of the presentdisturbances to attempt their independence."

  A wan and tolerant smile on the imperial countenance apprised him hisappeal had been in vain. A suppressed buzz of incredulity brought aflush of resentment to his cheek.

  "We are not ungrateful for your loyal advice, Your Grace, and will giveit our future consideration." This imperial acknowledgment dismissed amatter which apparently was promptly forgotten in the discussion ofevents in Manchuria. But the apparition of Krovitch, in arms, would notso easily down in the minds of the thoughtful present, even though anautocrat had dismissed the notion as frivolous.

  Never having been kind, now was the moment when the least sign ofrelaxation would be interpreted by the watchful millions as an evidenceof weakness. Therefore the blows of the knout should be redoubled andprisons be enlarged the better to maintain hierarchical supremacy.

  Provinces, conquered and made subject by the ancient strength of Russianarms, were becoming restless. Whispers of what a year earlier would havebeen avoided by the many in terror were now changed into shouts ofdefiance and publicly bruited in the daily papers. On all sides anoppressed country crouched tiger-like, ready for revolt should the whipbe laid aside for even an instant.

  Krovitch once having had a king, a _patrie_ of her own, stubbornly andpersistently kept alive her national feeling, language, and traditionsin spite of imperial _ukase_. Naturally she caused considerableuneasiness among those who were the real rulers of Russia.

  Persistent reports from their apprehensive agents alarmed those who,standing in the shadows of a toppling throne, feared an outbreak of theKrovitzers more than they despised the ultimate valor of the Japanese.

  An ambitious minister, listening attentively to the warning againstKrovitch, determined to put a quietus on that province, which once andfor all time would blight her hopes of independence. He wired manyquestions and voluminous suggestions to his agent in Paris, CasperHaupt, who was a sub-chief of the White Police. This ardent subject ofNicholas II had cabled back immediately:

  "Have here only one man who can. Must have free foot."

  A reference to a portfolio biography disclosed the operator's name to beJosef Kolinsky.

  The conversation resulting in this cabled information to the ministerhad taken place in a private room of the Russian consulate in the Frenchcapital between the sub-chief and Kolinsky.

  One plan after another had been suggested by the superior only to betorn into threads by the operator. Finally in desperation the sub-chiefhad demanded that Kolinsky furnish a more practical scheme.

  A pause followed, in which, with elbows on the table, and flushed,indignant visage, the Russian leaned forward waiting for the complianceof his subordinate. Kolinsky, with a sphynx-like face, sat gazingsteadily at a point on the floor slightly beyond his extended feet. Hisprincipal sought in vain to penetrate the pale, smiling mask which hewas beginning to acknowledge held a more subtle mind than his own. Hewould have given much to have seen the galloping, tumultuous thoughts,which, chaotic at first, became as orderly as heaven at their master'swish.

  Impatient at a silence promising to be interminable the Russian agentcoughed suggestively.

  Kolinsky, with leisurely indulgence, looked up while the sneering smiledeepened the lines about his mouth.

  The face of his _vis-a-vis_ brightened.

  "Well," the chief asked breathlessly.

  "First, monsieur, if my plan is adopted, do I, alone, unaided, have freefoot to work it out? Otherwise I'll not tell you a word of it."

  Indignant for a moment that an underling should impose conditions, theRussian determined to resort to censure, but when he looked into theculprit's eyes he was puzzled at his own acquiescence.

  "You may have a free foot," he said, "now your plan."

  Kolinsky shifted his chair close to that of the other man to whisperlong and earnestly in his ear. His auditor evidently endorsed hissuggestion, judging by his grunts of applause and the grinning displayof teeth.

  "It is good, fine, superb," he said as Kolinsky concluded and leanedback comfortably in his chair the better to appreciate the approvaldisplayed in his chief's countenance. He was not to view theseflattering symptoms for long, however. His superior as thoughdiscovering a fatal weakness in the completed structure, said in reneweddespair: "while you have the right man, it won't do."

  "Why, Excellency," asked Josef with no diminution of that glacial smile.It was as though he held his superior in hardly concealed contempt.

  "The papers," said Haupt. "They can't be forged. We have no precedentsto follow. Those chaps over there will know the thing by rote andprobably would recognize the signatures more quickly than their own."

  "Why not use the originals?"

  "Where are they? We have so much time to find them." The sarcasm wascrushing. "They probably were lost or destroyed years ago." He concludedtemporizingly, under the compelling eyes gazing coldly at him.

  "Documents of that kind are never lost or destroyed," Josef announceddogmatically.

  "Where are they then? In Krovitch?" The sub-chief sneered.

  "No." The reply was so positive that the Russian agent leaned forwardintently. He was growing suspicious, therefore becoming cautious.

  "You have seen them, I suppose." This was thrown off casually.

  "Oh, certainly. That's what suggested the plan." Josef smiled like a catwho has enclosed a cup of cream.

  "Then you have seen them recently." He only half waited for theassenting nod as he queried, "They are in Paris?"

  "Yes." Kolinsky smiled at the other's undisguised astonishment that hewould admit so much.

  The sub-chief drew himself together, then turned sternly to hissubordinate.

  "See here, Kolinsky, that's impossible. I've been head of this bureaufor ten years, and if documents of such importance had come into thepossession of the French or any other government, I would have knownabout it. If they had been turned into this office I would haveremembered."

  "Nevertheless, Excellency,
they are in Paris."

  There was another long pause. The Russian lighted a cigarette, while hesought in silent meditation to unravel the mystery which seemed not onlya challenge to his acuteness, but also an impeachment of his regime.With a casual movement that he hoped was unnoticed, he drew back into ashadow where he could note Kolinsky's face while his own avoidedscrutiny.

  "Kolinsky, how long have you been a member of the White Police?"

  "Twelve years, Excellency."

  "Two years before I came here, eh?" In a flash he had solved the enigma."It is as I imagined. Have you the papers with you?"

  "Yes, Excellency."

  "May I see them?"

  "They are my personal property, remember."

  "How long ago did you get them?"

  "Fifteen years ago the eighth of August. That was before I joined thesecret police. The owner had died and it took some clever work to gainpossession of them."

  "How did you know of their existence?"

  "It was an accident." Kolinsky answered haltingly.

  "And your candidate for the crown?" asked the Russian in a slight toneof derision.

  "Is a Parisian artist. A good-natured fool." Kolinsky's tone of voiceechoed the other's, whose hand was held out hesitatingly across thetable for the papers. Deliberately Josef drew a bundle from his insidepocket and opened it before his chief.

  The parchments were old and the Latin was in an ancient cramped handwhile the impression of the seal was well-nigh obliterated. Whensufficient time had elapsed for the Russian to make a complete mentalnote of their appearance, Josef drew the papers away from him, refoldedthem carefully and replaced them in his pocket.

  "Kolinsky, you know what will happen should you desert us when once inKrovitch?"

  Josef was standing near the door. He smiled with supreme indifference.

  "Do I get the mission, Excellency?" was the only reply he vouchsafed.

  "Y-e-s." The superior's single acquiescence was prolonged into threesyllables, urged by the acknowledged supreme ability of Kolinsky andrestrained by a fear of apprehended duplicity.

  Aware of this struggle the clever fellow turned back in the doorway tolaugh at the other's perplexity.

  "Really, Excellency, you have only one thing to fear." His chief startedup suspiciously.

  "What is that?" he asked tersely.

  "That I may decide to claim the throne of Krovitch myself," Josefreplied, as with his habitual smile he softly closed the door andhurried from the house.