The Gunmaker of Moscow.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XXXVII, Issue 1985, 23 April 1906, Page 2

The Gunmaker of Moscow.

By Sylvanus Cobb, Junr. —* —

PART 7, CHAPTER IX Continued. Some years before there had been a murder in Moscow, and Savotano did the bloody deed. It was a work of pure vengeance. Olga had him apprehended, but he was not brought to justice. The duke found, him to be a shrewd, unscrupulous wretch, willing to serve those who would pay him well and ready to let himself then to any one who could Eave his life. Olga was a man of plots and schemes. He fancied that such a man as Savotano might be of use to him, so he proposed to Eave him if he would serve his benefactor. The villain was glad enough to accept the proposition, and the bargain was made. Could Savotano enter the church and assume the sacred garb he might in many cases work to better advantage. The wretch readily agreed to this, too, and through Olga's powerful influence he gained a place in the church. He knew that the duke held his very life, and he failed not to serve him. llis clerical robes shielded him from much suspicion, and, moreover, the place gave him additional advantages to work at his diabolical trade. His salary from the government was sufficient for his support, while an occasional sum from his master enabled him to enjoy many of those luxuries which were denied to most of his brethren. Olga feared not to trust this man, for the fellow had nothing to gain by betrayal, but everything to lose. And such was the man who now entered the duke's private room. He entered with a bold air, for, though he was somewhat in the duke's power, yet there was a peculiar satisfaction in knowing that when he fell the noble lord must fall with him, part way at least. Brethren in crime cannot count much upon respect. "I have come, my lord," the priest said as he shook the snow from his robe and then took a seat by the furnace pipe. "And how is the count?" asked Olga. "He is recovering, I am sure." "Does Kopani say so ?" "Yes. He says he will have him out within a month." "By heavens, Savotano, this must not be." "But tell me, my lord, what is the particular need of the count's departing ?" The duke gazed his visitor a few moments in the face and then 6aid: "Why, since the affair interests you, I'll tell you. Thus far I have paid you promptly all your dues, but I cannot do so much longer unless we can make some of our points work. My property is on the decrease fast. I have not enough left to live on. Within the past three years I have made some bad ventures. 1 put it into — But never mind; suffice it for me to say that I am at the end of my fortune." The duke was about to say that he had placed large sums in the hands of the Minister Gallitzin for the purpose of carrying out the conspiracy by which the Princess Sophia was to have been placed upon the throne, with Gallitzin for her prime minister and himself also high in power. He chose not to tell of this. And no wonder, for heads had ere then been taken to pay for such indiscretions. "And now if this count survives I thus have one source cut off. My half of Drotzen is used up and mortgaged to him, but if he dies the whole comes to me. His father and myself married sisters, and they owned Drotzen, and on his side the count is the only heir. So in the event of his death the whole comes to me. You understand this now." "Perfectly," returned the priest. "And 'tis a pity your first effort did not succeed." "So it is," said the duke uneasily. "When I sent him with that message to the gunmaker, I felt sure he would be slain, and then I hoped that the other could be disposed of for having slain him. But the emperor has turned all my plans upside down, for the present at least. Savotano, you must have a hand in Damonoff's medicine!" "That is easily done, my lord," replied the priest quietly. "You have free access there ?" "Yes." "And can you not watch with him some night?" "I think I can." "Then do so. When he is dead, 200 ducats are yours." "Then he dies." "Good! And now there is one more. This gunmaker must be got out of the way." "Ah!" uttered Savotano, looking up incredulously. "Do you mean so?" "Most assuredly I do." "But why him ?" "Do you fear to undertake the work ?" "Not at all, my lord. I only wished to know why he was wanted away." "The reason in simple. I must marry with Rosalind Valdai. Her property is worth the whole of Drotzen twice fold —over two million of ducats." "So much?" uttered the priest, opening his eyes with greedy wonder.

' "Yes; it is one of the finest es- : tates in Moscow, and i( pays her now i • a yearly income of a hundred thousand ducats. She docs not know it. Ha, ha, ha!" ' "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the priest j in concert. "She doesn't, eh?" J "No; she knows nothing about it. i i But I must secure this, and in order 1 j to do it I must marry her, and — 'if I would be sure of that this acj cursed gunmaker must be out of the way." "But what is he to her ?" "She loves him." "And is not your authority"— "Hold, Savotano. I'll explain to i you in a few words. I'm afraid the ■ emperor has taken a fancy to this youngster, and if he has he may be appealed to in this case. The girl will take marriage hard. I shall have to hire you to perform the ceremony." "Which I should be pleased to do," returned the priest, with a coarse smile. "You shall have the opportunity. But first we must have the young Nevel taken care of." "I think I can manage that, my lord." "And how will you do it ?" "I suppose you don't want him : put where he can get off and come back here." "No. Finish him while you are about it." "I will." "But, mind, it must be done so that in no possible way suspicion can fall upon me. You must con-1 trive some way so that suspicion shall be led at once to some apparent point and there baffled." "Leave me alone for that, my lord. I can call help if I want it." "Are there not places in the city where a body can be hidden —where it may be so disposed of and never be found ?" asked the duke as the thought came to his mind. "Never mind," returned the other, with a confident nod of the head. "If I meddle with the matter, it shall be well done." "Very well. I'll trust it with you." For a few moments after this I there was a dead silence, during j which only the moaning of the wind i could be heard. But at length the duke started up, and, with sudden ; energy, he said: j "Ah, Savotano, there is one thing II came nigh forgetting. You have j heard of this strange monk —Vladij mir his name is." I "Aye, and I have seen him too. I Y'ou mean that huge lump of human fat?" "Yes. And now tell me who and what he is. He was at the duel, and ' I know he has been here to my f house. Who is he?" I "You've secured me there, my ! lord, for I can tell you no more j about him than I can about the man ■ in the moon. In short, no one seems to know him, save that he is a monk of some Roman order and i named Vladimir. He has been here only a few months, as near as I can find out, and yet I think I know what his business is, or, at least, [ why he's here." 1 "Ah, you suspect ?" "Yes, and if my suspicions be correct we could have him taken care of at any moment." j "Explain." j "Why, I think he is a spy of the j pope, sent here from Rome to learn j something of our emperor's plans." j "But he has not visited the impe- \ rial palace." I "Oh, yes, my lord; he has been j there several times, and once the j emperor himself was obliged to send ! him out of the audience chamber." j "But have you any particular reaj 60ns for thinking him a spy from j the pope ?" , "Why, he is a Romish monk, and he hangs about the most important I places in our city. Even the cir- \ cumstance I have just related — \ his trying to remain in the audi- • ence chamber while private business was going on and having to be ordered out by the emperor —is some ground for suspicion. I mean to watch him at all events." ' "That's right," returned the duke. And then, after a moment's thought, he added: "I do not see why he should be around after every petty duel that may be fought if he is a spy from Rome, and, besides, I have heard one or two persons say I that they were sure they had seen j him before." j "Oh, that may be only the result ' of some strong resemblance which • he bears to some one else. I am sure I he was never here before —not in I Moscow." Again the humpbacked priest was cautioned about the work he had in hand, and, having promised over and over again to be very careful, he took his leave. And Olga, duke of Tula, was left alone with his own thoughts. Better for him had that wicked priest j been his executioner. Better for j him had he been upon the count's bed, racked with dying pains. BetI tcr for him had he been a poor gunj maker, so he had been honest. Oh. J better for him had he been the j meanest beggar that walked the 'earth than what he was! But he I did not realize this. He had a goal I ahead, and he tried to overlook the ; black, dreadful gulf that yawned between him and it. CHAPTER X. A STRANGE DISCOVERY. The news went out that the Count Conrad Damonoff must die. A few day 3 before the best surgeon in Moscow said he would recover, but now that same surgeon said he must fall. A strange change had come over him. It was not a fever,

but, rather, a consuming of vitality. He was failing fast, and no art of medicine could revive him. Some thought he must be bleeding inward, ly, but others knew better than this; because in that case there would bej some outward symptom. The wound) itself was healing, but the disease was not. The physician and thq priest were now in daily, and the former almost in hourly, attendance. The surgeon was Kopani, and the priest was the humpbacked Savotano. Thus lay the count upon his bed, weak and faint, but at present almost free from pain, and an old woman was his only attendant, the priest having just left. It was just after noon. The dying man had just taken a powerful stimulating draft, though it was against the injunctions of the priest, as he said that by such means the invalid might die bereft of 6ense and thus lose his hold upon salvation. He had just taken this draft when there j was a low rap upon the door. The woman arose to answer the summons. She conversed a few moments with the girl who had knocked, and when she returned to the bed she announced that Ruric Nevel wished to enter. "Let him come in," whispered the count. "But"— "Never mind," h'e interrupted as the woman commenced thus to expostulate. "Let him come in. By heavens, if he is my enemy let me see him! It may serve to arouse me." So the woman went to the door again, and soon afterward Ruric Nevel entered the apartment. He stepped lightly, noiselessly, to the bedside, but it was some moments ere he could distinguish objects by the subdued light of the place. By and by, however, he overcame the difficulty, and he started back in horror as he beheld the features of his adversary. How pale and sunken! How deathlike and ghastly! The count noticed the movement, and he noticed the look. "Count Damonoff," spoke the gunmaker in a low, solemn tone, "a few days since I heard that you were recovering, and 1 thanked God. But today they told me you were dying, and I have come to ask that I may take your hand ere you pass away from earth. As God is my Maker and my Judge, I would rather lie down here and die for you than have you pass away with a curse of me upon your soul or on your lips. Forgive me for what I have done and never again will I engage in such a wicked work. For my own life, it is my country's and my mother's and 1 have no right to throw it away, and my antagonist's life is the sacred property of God, which I have no right to touch but in self defense. Forgive me." Slowly and heavily moved the dying man over, and then he extended his thin and wasted hand. "Ruric," he said, and his voice was stronger now, for the potion was working, "I am glad you have come—very glad—for I have wished, above all else of earth, to see you. 1 could not send for you, for I knew not how you might come. I have been all wrong in the things that have passed betwixt thee and me. I was mad and a fool. I blame you not, but rather do I thank you for your kindness through all the scene. Oh, I forgive you with all my heart. And now tell me that I am forgiven." "Forgiven ?" repeated Ruric, with a trembling lip, still holding the count's hand within both his own. "Oh, would to God I could call you back to life! Forgiven? Oh, God, who reads all hearts, knows how humble, how sacred, is my forgiveness to you! Could I call you back, sould I wipe out the past from my memory, I could die content" "Enough," returned the count warmly. "This was my holiest wish, though pride has kept back its utterance. Oh, I feared you would gloat over my death that you would be glad when I was gone." "No, no! I should have been a monster then!" "There are many such. And yet I wronged you by the thought. But I could not help it." A moment more passed in silence, and then the invalid resumed: "There is one reason why I should like to live—l should be prepared for a better life. Since Death has come —since I have known that he stood waiting by my bed —I have wondered at the evil life I have led, and I have thought that if the dark king would let me remain here a few vears more I could be a better i man. But 'tis too late now- The die is cast. Yet I have some joy in this. You have shed a happy light upon my dying hour. God bless ! you!" ; Ruric's feelings were easily moved, and there was something in the deep solemnity of this occasion that started his heart to a tender mood, and the last words of the dying man 1 flowed the cup. He bowed his head, and, covering his eyes with one hand while he held in the other the hand of Conrad, he wept freely and silently. At this moment the woman arose and left the room. "She's gone," said the count after he had recovered somewhat from the deep emotions which had been stirred within his own soul. "Sit down here beside me." Ruric obeyed the request, and after he had seated himself he gazed sadly into the sick man's face. "Say, Ruric," the count asked, while an eager look overspread his face, "wast true what Kopani told me —that you overcame Demetrius the Greek with the sword?"

“I did,” the youth replied in a j, whisper. “But you did not disarm him?J You did not fairly take his sword i from him?” I “I did, Conrad .” “My soul, is it possible? And j where have you been all your life?” “In Moscow and in Spain.” “And yet obscure.” “Never mind (hat now,” interposed Ruric. “1 have something of \ more-interest. Do you— But you •; will pardon me for what I may say, ! for I assure you I mean it all for ; your good ?” • “Speak on,” said Conrad, at the j tame time running his eyes almost ; enviously over the gun maker’s no- 1 ply developed breast and shoulders. | “Then, first, 1 have just come j from the Lady Rosalind— Ah, I j meant not”— I “Go on. I may have felt a pang | at the mention of that name, but I know she loves you, and were I strong at this moment as ever 1 d relinquish all claims of her to you. So fear not.” “Thank you, sir count, for this, j But, 1 was remarking, 1 am not long from her presence, and between us both we have suspected some dark things. Do you think the duke was really your friend ?” The count started, and a strange gleam shot from his eyes. “Go on,” he uttered. “Then listen. Before you ever came to my shop the duke had solemnly promised Rosalind that she should receive no more trouble from you —that you would claim her hand no more.” “Do you know this ?” “I do.” “But it cannot be. Why should he have sent me on that mission to you?” “1 had taught one of his officers the sword exercise, and be knew 1 was your superior in strength and the use of the weapon.” “Well, go on,” whispered the count nervously and anxiously. “Why, ho thought very likely that wo should not meet on such a question without a quarrel. Ho knew your natural impetuosity and my strength of arm and hoped you—would fall.” “But—goon!” “Ilis estate is running out, and he ; wants the whole of Drotzen.” | “Ah, I see it now!” j “The duke had proposed himself for Rosalind’s hand,” resumed Ru--1 ric. “He says he has loved her long. I and he will force her to marry him ;if he can, though he breaks her I heart.” | “My God!” gasped the count, fairly starting up to a sitting pos- | ture. “How blind 1 have been! By ■ my soul, He never was cordial, never kind 1” ; Ruric gently laid the sick man back, and then ho said: “From ail that 1 can see and understand, the proud duke meant to , get all your wealth and all of Rosa- | lind’s ” The count spoke not yet. He lay with his eyes closed and groaned in agony at the strange revolutions I that were breaking in upon him. But, see! Why starts Ruric so suddenly, and why does he turn so pale? Why do bis bauds tremble, and why is his brow bent so eagerly ? “What is it?” asked the count, startled by the strange event. “Hold!” whispered Ruric in a [ frantic tone. “You were recovering ; once?” j “From this wound?” 1 “Yes.” ( “Yes. I was getting well fast, and the doctors said 1 should be ' stout and well in a month. But sud- : denly this change came on. Let’s • see. On Friday morning 1 felt the first relapse.” [ “The very time I” gasped Ruric to i- himself. ■ The count moved his head forward and would have caught his i companion by the hand if he could. J ‘Tor God’s sake, Ruric, what is it?” ! : “As I came this way I saw < : humpbacked priest pass out from j this house?” said the gunmaker in I terrogatively. [ : “Yes, yes,” returned the count, • speaking shortly and quickly. “It | was Savoiano. He has attended \ me. The duke recommended him,” ( “And was he here Thursday j night?” j “Thursday? Ah, yes; he watched j with me that night.” • “And has he been in attendance j since ?” j “Yes—every day. But why do you ask? Say, what is that mcanj ing upon your face ? W hat is it ?” i “At ibis moment the door of the 1 apartment was quietly, noiselessly, opened, and Kopani, the surgeon, entered the place. “Ha!” cried Ruric, starting toward him and grasping him by the arm. “Your patient is poisoned! A deadly poison has been given him, and it is even now eating his life away!” “Impossible !” gasped the surgeon, straining his eyes to see plainly who it was that spoke to him. “Ah!” be uttered as he became someAvhat used to the gloom of the apartment. “Is it you, sir ?” “Aye, but mind not that now. Cannot you do something for the count? lie has been poisoned.” “It cannot be!” “By the hopes of my salvation,” cried Conrad Damonoff, starting up to a sitting posture, “he speaks the truth! That accursed priest! Oh, Olga, Olga, I never dreamed that thou wast mine enemy!” “But what is it all?” the surgeon asked, gazing first upon Ruric and then upon the count. “Speak, some one!” “Tell him.” groaned Conrad. •(To be continued,)! 1.490