IT is never pleasant to have to admit even in the secrecy of one’s own private thoughts that one has been fooled; nor does the cleverness of the fooler afford any but the coldest consolation.
Yet when I sat down to think things over calmly, I could come to only one conclusion—that in my trial of wits against Bremenhof and his agents I had been wofully worsted.
A little thing will suffice to start suspicion; and in this case it was that strange look which I had surprised on Burski’s face.
Once started, however, my suspicions gathered like snow flakes in a drift, and quickly hardened into certainty. Everything seemed to be as highly charged with doubt, as a bomb with dynamite. I could see how I had just played into their hands, like a countryman in the care of a gang of sharpers.
Why should Bremenhof give in about Madame Drakona; and to me of all men? He had cunningly led me to believe that it was because of my changed relations in regard to Volna. But mine were little more than blank cartridges; yet he had waved the white flag the instant I fired one at him.
I could see now how unreal the whole interview had been. He had read my purpose and had just played with me, keeping his own plan cunningly concealed. He meant to use me for that plan. What was it? And how did he mean me to help him?
There was the matter of Felsen, too. Why had Bremenhof been at the pains to render me a service? I had not been so dense as not to notice that his indifference in mentioning Felsen was feigned. What object had he in sending the man back to me at such a moment?
I recalled the interview I had overheard between Felsen and the police agent at Bratinsk. The police had brought him to Warsaw now. What had been the relations between them in the interval? Were they going to use him as a spy? It looked very much like it.
Then I thought of Burski and grew hot with shame at the easy manner in which I had let the fellow trick me with his use of the Fraternity signal and pass words, and his offer to let me escape. He had been fooling me of course; and had succeeded with his subtler effort after his superior at Ladislas’ house had failed. It was all part of the system of spy work: and by this time Bremenhof knew everything and was no doubt laughing at me and setting the snare which was to complete my overthrow.
Sackcloth and ashes may be hard wearing apparel; but they don’t hurt as much as the stings of such humiliation as I felt in realizing my self-satisfied stupidity and the ease with which I had been gulled.
The one redeeming point was that my eyes had been opened before it was too late; and the question was whether I could still get out of the mess into which I had blundered.
I soon guessed the drift of Bremenhof’s scheme. It was to ruin me by convicting me of complicity in the Fraternity conspiracy; and in the meanwhile to use me to enable him to find Volna. Felsen was no doubt the chosen spy for the latter part; and Burski for the former.
My first step was obvious. I must not let either man know that I suspected him.
With Felsen this was easy. When he arrived I talked over matters with him; listened to the story of his sufferings on my account; promised him a liberal reward for what he had endured; and did my best to make him feel that he still had my confidence.
With the police agent, Burski, I had to be much more wary. I had already had proofs of his shrewdness; and I found him prepared with an explanation of his call to Bremenhof as I was leaving the Department.
He sent up his name openly, and as the hotel servant was leaving the room he said, with official curtness: “A letter from Colonel Bremenhof.”
It was a formal notice that my examination had been postponed.
“We are alone?” he asked in a low voice.
I nodded. “I have only this room.”
He drew a chair close to mine. “We are in luck. You noticed that the chief sent for me?”
“Yes; and was a little surprised.”
“A rare stroke of fortune. He suspects you and questioned me closely as to what I had got out of you on the way to police quarters. You know we agents are supposed to trick a prisoner into admissions.”
“An infernal system it is, too; but they can’t get at me. They had me for nearly a week; but I have friends, and they were forced to let me go.”
“You must be careful, friend. You are to be watched and——” Here he smiled very slyly—“The chief has picked me out for the work. Is not that luck?”
He was evidently pretty sure of me. “I can’t quite understand that,” I said, as if in doubt. “As a matter of fact I found the Colonel willing to do all I asked.” Then I became apparently confidential; that is, I told him just as much as I surmised Bremenhof would have told him already; and referring to the visit to Bremenhof’s house, I laid special stress on the fact that Ladislas, as a leader of the Fraternity, had assigned the task to me.
He pledged himself to help and questioned me as to my object.
“Is that all?” he exclaimed, with a shrug of the shoulders when I said my object was merely to get the papers. “He is so hated and feared that I hoped——” here he dropped his voice to a whisper and looked intently and meaningly at me—“that your orders went farther.”
I understood him. “I am an Englishman, friend, and no assassin,” I said firmly.
He made as if to conceal a natural disappointment. “And this uniform.”
“A disguise to enable me to get the Count’s friends away under the pretence of an arrest. But I doubt now if I shall need it.”
He paused. “A shrewd plan indeed; but not so far-reaching as I had looked for and hoped. It is best for friends to be frank.”
“The Count himself as you know is dead against all violence.”
“The time is past for mere talk; we must act,” he exclaimed, with an excellent suggestion of suppressed excitement; and he sought to lead me to discuss the affairs of the Fraternity.
“I am not a leader and have only to do the task assigned to me,” I said. “Let others do as they will.”
“You believe our freedom can be won without violence?”
“I have only to do the task assigned to me,” I repeated; and would not be drawn any farther.
As he was going he referred to Felsen. “You trust your servant? You know he is also suspect.”
“I know he is a good servant.”
“Do not trust him too far. He talks too freely. Be on your guard; and don’t let him see this uniform. He will know that I have brought it; and the knowledge might be dangerous to both of us.”
It was a clever stroke for one spy to put me on my guard against the other; but my eyes were no longer blinded; and his warning did not mislead me.
I was fully alive to the personal risk I was running, and I spent a couple of hours in very anxious thought, recasting my plans for the next day. In the end I resolved to act as though implicitly believing in Bremenhof’s sincerity, and saw how to use one of his own spies to let him know my intention.
In the morning I wrote a note to Volna.
“DEAR MISS DRAKONA,—I am glad to tell you that in an interview I had with Colonel Bremenhof last night he agreed to hand over to me the evidence against your mother and also to place it on record that there is no charge of any kind against you. He imposed one condition; and I shall comply with it by leaving Warsaw to-night. I think it better not to call upon you this morning. Therefore I send this by my servant, Jacob Felsen, who is to be trusted.
“I wish you earnestly, God-speed, and shall always be
“Your Friend,
“ROBERT ANSTRUTHER.”
I addressed this openly to Volna and gave it to my servant.
“I am going to trust you with a very important secret, Felsen,” I said as impressively and earnestly as I could. “The safety of the person to whom this is addressed may depend upon your good faith. I cannot go to the place myself, but I feel I can rely upon your doing all I look for from you in the matter.”
He answered with a hundred protestations of fidelity; and was so over-insistent that I was quite sure he meant to take the letter straight to Bremenhof, who would either hurry to the house himself or send to have Volna brought to him. He would thus find that I had given the right address and was apparently acting, as my letter implied, in reliance upon his word.
But as I was careful that Felsen did not leave my hotel until it was impossible for Bremenhof or his men to get to the Place of St. John before Volna had left to keep her appointment with me, I was risking nothing in giving away her real address.
As soon as he was gone I started to meet her. I found Burski in the hall of the hotel smoking a cigar and chatting with some other men.
I concluded that I was to be shadowed and that he was there to point me out to whoever might be detailed for the work.
“Ah, good-morning, Mr. Anstruther,” he said, coming up to me.
I stopped and returned his greeting. “What is the news? Is the trouble over?”
“No, indeed. It is going to begin. The men in almost every factory and workshop in the city have struck work: every policeman is on duty, and the soldiers are being held in readiness. It will be a black day for Warsaw.”
“There will be violence, you mean?”
“Do men get together in thousands and tens of thousands just to shake hands with one another? You are not going out?”
“Indeed I am. I have a free day—my last possibly in Warsaw—and I wish to see matters for myself. Where are the strikers in force?”
At this moment a man who was sitting near the door rose and sauntered out, followed soon afterwards by a second. I marked them well; for I guessed they might be told off to shadow me.
“They are in force everywhere,” he replied. “Shall you be long away?”
“Come with me and show me things? One direction is as good as another for me.”
He drew me aside and lowered his voice to a whisper: “I am supposed to be following you, you know. But if you tell me when you’ll get back here, it will do.” Such a clever assumption of sincerity.
“Frankly, I don’t know.” I did not; but not for the reason I wished him to infer. “I may soon have had enough of it.” And with that I went to the door, glanced up and down the street, and then strolled off as though I had no purpose beyond the merest curiosity.
I soon perceived that I was being followed by the two men I had seen leave the hotel; and a well trained Russian sleuthhound can be very difficult to shake off. But I had a plan for doing this; and luck soon favoured me.
In one of the side streets off Noviswiat Street, the great business thoroughfare, a crowd of strikers stood listening to a very excited speaker. I got into the middle of them and just when he was abusing the employers and cursing the police for taking their side against the workers, I pointed out the two sleuths to the men close to me and whispered that they were police spies. The news spread like burning oil on water; and when I slipped away, the two men were the centre of a fierce, threatening mob and far too much concerned for their own safety to care what became of me.
The incident had delayed me seriously, however, and a glance at my watch showed me it was already a quarter past eleven, the hour for my appointment with Volna.
I had at least a mile to go and after a sharp walk for a couple of hundred yards, I hailed a sleigh.
Then the unexpected happened. “The Church of St. Paul as fast as you can,” I called to the man as he pulled up; and I was stepping quickly into the vehicle when some one laid a hand on my shoulder.
I turned quickly; and to my infinite chagrin I found it was the agent, Burski, a little out of breath, but smiling and evidently on excellent terms with himself.