THE EPISODE OF THE HOTEL NEVA.

Evening Star, Issue 11673, 4 February 1902, Page 2

THE EPISODE OF THE HOTEL NEVA.

[Bt W. Mxtbrat Qratpon.] , [Copyright.] T A greenish-yellow fog, a misty drizzle of a n, a damp biting atmosphere that seemed to cut into one’s very bones—such was Paul Demidoff’s first impression of London on the November afternoon when he reached Charing Cross railway terminus from the sjm*inent. The sharp contrast between English metropolis and Paris, which he had left early that morning in a blaae of sunshine and brilliancy, impressed him painfully os he stood by the Strand kerbing, looking Avestward into the heart of Trafalgar square, where little was visible save a faint suggestion of the Landseer lions and the Nelson column, looming out of the fog. More than one of the restless croAvd that surged by turned for a second to gaze at the toll, slim figure, attracted by one of those subtle impulses that, men feel but cannot explain; and yet, had they been asked to hazard a guess at his nationality, all Avould probably have fallen short of the mark. They would have pronounced him an Englishman, an American, a Frenchman—anything but a Russian, Avhich ho really was. Paul Demidoff did not possess any of tho special traits that characterise his countrymen. He Avore a bowler hat and a grey mackinlosh buttoned close to tho throat. His shrewd, clean-shaven face Avas ruddy, of an Anglo-Saxon type, and his hair and eyes Avere brown. He stood by the kerb for a moment, and then turned wcstAvard, walking slowly, and as if in mental perplexity. He paused in front of the Grand Hotel, and eyed the portal with a wistful glance.’ But he passed on, repressing the temptation to enter, and presently hailed a cab standing in tho square. “The Hotel Neva!” he said, speaking in perfect Plnglish. “That’s in Soho, ain’t it?” the driver asked. “Yes ; cast of Wardour street,” Demidoff responded impatiently. The man glanced curiously at his fare. “ Get in, sir,” he said. " 1 know the place you want.” As the cab rattled by Morley’s and swung into Charing Cross read, Demidoff placed his small bag on the seat beside him, and then fixed himself in a comfortable position that admitted of his Avatehing the street scenes to good advantage. “It is too late now to turn back.” ho said, kill aloud. "It might have been wiser to go to the Grand Hotel, and yet mv chances of success would have been infinitely jioorer there. However. I don t think lam assuming any risk. Without my beard T can defy recognition (torn any of the guests of the Hotel Neva who may have seen me before. As for the man Avhom I wish to find, if he is really there—and my information leaves little doubt on that point—l can penetrate any disguise that ho may have adopted. He has hardly thought it necessary to assume one, though, for London is always a safe refuge for the very Avorst of our criminals.” Demidoff’s attention was hoav attracted by a block in the traffic, caused by the density of the fog; and when (be tangled vehicles were finally left behind, tho cab was rolling through Wardour street, it sAverved into a dark, narrow thoroughfare on the right, and pulled up a. little later before a dingy, four-storied building. A feeble light streamed from tho ground floor, and in the tipper windows a gleam was visible hero and there behind drawn curtains, “The Hotel Neva, sir,” exclaimed the driver, contemptuously. Demidoff stepped to the pavement, and stood there for a few seconds after the man had pocketed his faro and driven away in the fog. The- hesitancy of the Russian sprang from no uncertainty a.s to his surroundings. He knew that he rvas in the purlieus of Soho—that squalid district of London where dwell foreigners from many lands, and among them not a few refugees from justice, men Avho had committed crimes great and small. He knew, moreover, that in the gloomy building before him, through the lower window's of which suspicious faces were even now peering, drawn thither by the advent and departure of the cab, lived men from his own land, who, if they had had their deserts, would he pining in the bomb-proof casements of the Fortress of Peter and Paul, or toiling in the mines of Siberia.

The reflection was mu a pleasant one to Demidoff, and for a second time he wavered in his purpose. The struggle was brief. He crossed the pavement briskly, and placed his hand on the door, which opened at a touch. The Hotel Neva was so named for a bait; its appellation was intended to lure such wandering Russians as might find themselves in London through no fault of their own, and with pockets sufficiently lined to pay for board and lodging—which was a necessary qualification. It Iwid been in existence for many years, and was conservative in its character —loth to open its doors to new patrons, hut: ever gracious and hospitable to returning guests, and to those who came well (?) recommended, Demidoff found himself in a small, dingy room, lighted by two gas jets. His entry drove two or three persons into the darkest corners, where they could see conveniently without coining under plain observation themselves. The proprietor of the hotel, a middle-aged Russian, with black whiskers and a bleached complexion, who answered to the name of Petrosky, stood behind a combined counter and desk that fitted across one end of the room. He listened to Demidoff's request in apathetic silence. "I wish an apartment, my man,” Deraidoff repeated; and this time the fellow muttered a sullen assent, having meanwhile caught a covert signal made by one of the men across the room —a bit of by-play that escaped Demidotfs attention. Pet rosin” came from behind the desk, and took his guest’s bag. "This way,” he said, shuffling towards a door on the left. The formality of registering was unknown in the Hotel Neva. At one time it had been the custom, but as the police were the only ones to benefit by it, to the disadvantage of the inmates, the practice was speedily discontinued. Demidoff followed his guide across a narrow hall, thence up a decrepit staircase, and was soon installed in a rear room m the second floor—a cramped and cheerless apartment, meagrely furnished. When Petrosky’s shambling footsteps had died away. Demidoff walked to the window and looked out. There appeared to be a court below, and on ail sides were high walls pierced at intervals by windows, some black and some showing a dull light through the deepening fog. It was six o'clock, and the evening air was hoarse with the rumble of traffic and the tread of many feet through the populous region of Soho. From far off a deep-toned bell struck the hour. “ This time last night I was strolling in the Boulevard dTtaliens,” Demidoff muttered, as he turned away. ” What a vile contrast! I shall stop here no longer than is necessary. One is not favorably impressed by *the hotel and its inmates; and as for Monsieur Petrosky—l would wager a thousand roubles his name has at one time appeared in our police lists. Well, the sooner I dispose of the business that brought me here the sooner 1 shall be free to leave. Mv man was not present when I came in, I am certain of that. It may require considerable strategy to locate him, but I think I am equal to it.” From his travelling bag he look a pair of heavy revolvers. He examined the loadings carefully, and finally, after casting hiaeyes about the room, he concealed the weapons beneath the mattress of the bed. "And now for supper,” lie decided. “I have heard that the Hotel Neva serves a good meal.” He left the room, locking the door behind him and slipping the key in his pocket. He made his way downstairs, meeting no one, and reached the door of the coffee room, which was in the rear of the hotel office, and separated from it by the narrow hall previously mentioned, Demidoff entered Without hesitation. He walked slowly down ibe middle, glancing at the tables right and left. Several near the door were occupied by persons who looked up keenly as he passed, but he found the rest empty until he reached the end of the room, and

here, seated alone, at toe very last table, he saw the tnau in (jnert of whom he had journeyed to London. No trace of surprise or excitement escaped Demid oil. He drew a chair out from one end of the table, and sat down. “Well, Alexis Pogrom,” he said, quietly, “I am glad to| see you.” The man started violently, and his face turned pale. “ Don’t make any disturbance,” said Demidoff. “ Look at me. Have you never seen me before’”

“No,” replied the man. after a brief scrutiny; “ out you know me. You called me by name just now.” His face was still pallid, and his voice shook with fright. “Yes, I know you, Pognun,” Demidoff responded, “ and I have come all the way from Russia to have an interview with you. Don’t be alarmed; it is for your own good. You have a wife and two children in Moscow, and it nearly broke your heart to leave them.” “ Yes, that is true,” Pogram said huskily. “ Well. I can put it in your power to see them again; ana not only that, but to livh with them in Russia, and under Government protection.” “ On what terms?” “ That you come back with me to Russia, and divulge certain information which you alone possess. But this is a dangerous place for conversation. Meet me at my room two hours from now—it is number 13 on the second floor—and we will discuss the matter further. Will you come?” “ Yes. I shall be there,” Pogram replied, “ and if you prove your sincerity I will probably agree to do what you wish. But be very careful. If your purpose here is known, my life and yours will not be worth a moment’s purchase. I had better leave you at once.” A moment later he rose and strolled away. Demidoff consulted the badly-writ-ten menu that a waiter put before him, and ordered several of the Russian dishes that it contained—caviare, pickled Mi, salted cucumbers, ancj a bottle of wine. They were soon brought to him, and he began to eat with a zest. “All goes well,” lie thought. “Pogram will consent: he is weaiy of exile, and in a yielding mood. Wc acted wisely in preventing his wife and family from leaving Russia. I trust I shall, be on my way hack to Paris by this hour to-morrow.” Paul Demidoff was, as the reader will have divined, a secret police agent. A terrible crime had been committed in, St, Petersburg early in the summer, and Alexis Pogram, a Nihilist., was known to have been indirectly connected with it; but he fled before lie, could be arrested, leaving his family behind him. On learning through spies that Pogram was in London, Demidoff started for I'lngland with the hope of inducing the fugitive to oome back to Russia, and turn informer against Ids fellow-criminals, whose identity was suspected but not positively known. IT. Demidoff finished his supper leisurely, and then sat for some minutes while he smoked a cigar. Meanwhile the room had filled up, and when he rose and passed out nearly every table had several occupants, who turned and looked after him until he vanished in the hall. He went straight to his room. He locked the door on the inside, drew the blind down, and lit the gas. Then ho took a sheaf of documents from Ids pocket, and was soon deeply interested in their contents. The house was very quiet, and little could he heard save an occasional footstep in the hall or on the stairs. Time passed rapidly, and when he finally looked at his watch he was surprised to find that it was nine o’clock. Pogram was exactly due. But the rnnn did not come. The silence remained unbroken as the minutes slipped by. Demidoff, growing more and more uneasy and troubled, -juiced the floor witli restless steps, He heard a neighboring clock strike the quarter-hour and then the half. “Something has gone wrong,” he thought. “Can Hie fellow have turned coward? I can hardly believe that. He is young in crime, and devoted to his wife and family. It is vaguely possible that my intentions have been discovered—my disguise penetrated. If that is the case I had better bo preparing ” Rat-tat-tal ! 'Flic faint sound was heard on the panels of the door, though no slop had been audible in the hall. Demidoff stepped eagerly forward and turned the key. The door opened before he could touch the handle, and with a soft rustling of skirts a woman glided into the room. She dosed the door noiselessly.

“Lower the gas," she whispered in Rus sian. “I have something to say to yon.”

Demidoff was at first too startled and surprised to obey. He devoured with his eyes the slender figure standing opposite to him. The girl was no more than twenty, and her dress showed every outline of her perfect form. She was very beautiful, with deep violet eves and a mass of goldenbrown hair that clustered on hcv neck and shoulders. It was a strange place to encounter such a divine creature—this dingy, crime-haunted house in the most squalid quarter of Soho. The police agent’s face openly expressed the intense admiration that ho felt. The girl’s eyes dropped before his, and she blushed.

“Lower the gas, I implore you,” she entreated, in a voice of rare sweetness. “Your life is in peril, and mine as well.” The words broke the speil that bound Demidoff,

“A thousand pardons,” he said, as he turned the gas down to a mere tip of bine flame. He came back to the girl, who had retreated a few paces, and was standing with one hand on the knob of the door.

“What do you mean?” In demanded. “You tell me that my life is in danger, and yours? I will protect you. For myself I do not fear.’

“You must leave here at once,” said the girl, “You cannot escape by the staircase. There is only one way—yon must drop from the window to the roof below, and then to the ground. It will not he difficult to gain the street.” "But who are you?” implored Demidoff. “At least toll me your name.” “I am called Helene,” replied the girl. “That is all I can say, but to prove that. I am sincere I will tell you your name. You are Paul Demidoff.”

“ That is true,” he admitted. “ But listen. Do not go yet. If we are both in peril, why nob escape together? It will be easy to construct a rope from the bedding.” “The girl shook her head. “Don’t make mo repent my rashness,” she said. “You aro unreasonable. I come to save your life, and you wish to know everything. ” “Pardon me; you are right,” Demidoff answered, humbly. "1 shall say no more.” “ Hush!” whispered the girl. “ I heard a noise.”

Both were silent for a moment, and as they listened they heard a door close softly at no great distance away. “ They are preparing to act," said the girl, in an agitated voice, “ Don’t delay, I beg of you ; but go at once. If you stop you are lost.” With that she slipped abruptly from the room, closing the door behind her. Demidoff turned the key in the lock. His mind was more occupied with his fair visitor than with his dangerous situation. He hated to think of this lovely girl living amid such surroundings, belonging to the class of people who frequented the Hotel Neva. Yet such was doubtless the case. She must he the sister or daughter of some fugitive Russian —perhaps his wife. “It is apparent, at ail events," that she takes fui interest in me,” he muttered. “I have been recognised, and she has overheard the plot to assassinate me.” He turned up tire gas, and with the flood of yellow light came the hulf-eonvietion that what had just transpired was but a figment of his imagination. He walked to the door and listened. All was quiet. He tunici; i. the window and looked out. No sound came from the dark court below. Then he' lifted the mattress from the bed. His revolvers were gone! This discovery woke Demidoff to a keen sense of his peril. Ho lowered the gas, and stood for a moment in the narrow space between the bed and the window, debating whether it were belter to swing out and drop on to the roof below or to take time to weave a rope from the bed-

clothes. On the left-hand wall, between him and the window, was a fireplace concealed by a screen of boards, pasted over with faded Russian newspapers. It was held in place by a few nails stuck loosely in the crevices.

Demidoff little dreamed how near and real was his danger. He was startled by a sharp, rattling noise, as if a bit of plaster had fallen down the chimney; and when he looked in that direction he saw, to his honor, that the screen was moving slowly outward from the top. The next instant it came down with a crash, and the dim gas jet flashed on polished steel, and revealed three or four figures crouching in the fireplace.

Demidoff promptly understood the situation. He had been assigned purposely to this room, and the fireplace was connected with the adjoining apartment, through which the assassins had entered. For an instant he lost hope. He had no weapon with which to defend himself. His enemies were between him and the window, and he was certain that they had posted confederates outside the door. Suddenly he remembered the chair, the vague outlines of which he could see just in front of him. It was a strong, heavy piece of furniture, and he sowed it with both hands.

“I’ll fight to the last!” he resolved. But a second or two had elapsed since the fall of the screen, and now the crouching ruffians, who must have been aware of their intended victim’s location, emerged boldly iand quickly from the fireplace, The foremost reached up and extinguished the gas, doubtless in order that the bloody deed might not be witnessed through the window, which Demidoff had opened a minute previously. So the room was plunged in total darkness.

A few seconds of trying and dreadful silence ensued. Feeling sure of their prey, the assassins lingered for a moment, conferring in low whispers. As yet not a word hud been spoken aloud. All at once a faint, shuffling noise was heard. The evil crew were moving cautiously forward. At this critical point the imminence of the danger made Demidoff cool and collected. To sue for mercy he kneAV would be useless; and his mind readily grasped the only possible chance of escape, and a very slim and desperate one it was. Against the framework of the window, which was dimly outlined, he saw the position of his foes. They Averc creeping upon him, and knowing that he Avas unarmed they evidently expected no resistance. Demidoff drew a deep breath and clenched his teeth. Then he dashed forward blindly, plunged into the midst of the assassins, and hit out right and left with all his strength. Crash! crash! Each blorv Avas followed by snarls of rage and pain, and by the sharp splitting of Avood as the chair went to jneces in his grasp. Still dealing stroke after stroke with the fragments, he pressed on. Twice he felt sharp pains, once in his left arm and once in his side, and then, when hope was high in his bean, a hand clutched his ankle and brought him heavily to the floor.

He believed himself to be lost, but Avith a violent effort he wrenched loose and staggered to his feet. He gained the window and caught hold of the sill. One of liis enemies was close behind ; he Avhceled round, and struck him furiously with the back of the chair The man fell like a log, cursing and groaning. “ There he goes!” a voice exclaimed in a shrill Avhisper. “ Stop him, quick 1 He Avill get away from us!” Demidoff dodged as something whizzed by his head—a knife probably—and the next instant he was swinging from tho outer side of the Avindow. Letting go of the sill, he dropped safely to the roof below', landing Avith a jar on his feet. He ran to the edge and .swung over. As be clung there for a second, peering up towards the AvindoAv he had just left, he saw a dark object fall sAviftly through the air. There was a dull crash on the roof a few yards to his rear.

The second leap avu-s a short one, and he took it without hesitation. He was now in the court yard, and as he ran blindly ahead, seeking some outlet of escape, his determined enemy dropped after him and pursued, knife in hand. A blank Avail pulled Demidoff up sharply, and when he sAVimg round he perceived the assassin almost upon him, Avith blade uplifted for a murderous stroke. He abandoned hope. Leaning against the Avail, weak from bruises and loss of blood, he waited the death that seemed inevitable. But just then a pistol cracked from some unseen quarter, and the ruffian dropped his knife witli a hoAvl of pain. The shot had broken Lis arm.

As {ho cohoes of the report reverberated through the court, windows were opened here and there, and figures leant curiously our. Someone displayed ft lamp, and the yellow glare showed the fugitive the mouth of a dark and narrow passage. He darted into this, and sped on at his toji speed ; for a door had opened behind him, doubtless from the ground floor of the Hotel Neva, and the sound of rapid footsteps apprised him that his relentless foes were still in pursuit.

The passage terminated in a gate, and Demidoff struck this with such force that it flew wide open. The next instant he was dashing along a deserted court, and turning an angle at the further end he saw in the distance a lighted street, with people passing to and fro on the pavements. He staggered on, reeling with weakness, and just when ho was on the point of dropping over he fell into the anus of two h'.uec,oated constables, who had been drawn into the court by the report of the pistol.

After a drink of brandy from the nearest public-house Demidoff was able to tell his story. He repressed all mention of the girl* The constables seemed disinclined to believe him, and promptly escorted him to tifh neighboring police station of the Soho district. The inspector in charge listened attentively to a repetition of the narrative, asked a few questions, and then announced that ho would take prompt steps to have the criminals apprehended. Meanwhile a surgeon had been summoned to dress Demidoff’s wounds, which were fortunately slight. They consisted of a shallow knifethrust in each arm, and a cut on the shoulder and one across the ribs. A little later a party of ten men set out from the station. They presently separated, four of them going round to guard the courtyard and its approaches, while the others, including Demidoff and the inspector, approached the Hotel Neva from the front.

Petrosky was in his usual place. He expressed great surprise and complete ignorance, and blandly offered to assist in the search. The house was ransacked from bottom to top, and though a few persons were found in the rooms, Demidoff could not identify any of them, nor did he suspect them. Room 15 was visited, and here was evidence of the struggle—the broken chair, blood stains, and a knife dropped by one of the,would-be assassins. The searchers then went to the courtyard, only to learn from the men posted there that nobody had attempted to pass out by the rear! So there was an end to the quest for the present; the guilty ones were not on the premises. Taking advantage of the brief time allowed to them, Pogram, his confederates, and the girl bad sought safety in immediate flight. Since Petrosky obstinately refused to make any disclosures, the inspector put him under arrest pending a further investigation.. The hotel waiters and several inmates of the coffee room were also taken into custody, and then the whole party returned to the station. The police were pmwled about the pistol shot, but Demidoff, who alone could have furnished the clue, said nothing. “ It was Helene who saved my life, who fired at the man in the nick of time,” he assured himself. “Rather than do anything to bring barm upon the brave girl I would let the whole villainous band go scot free.”

Demidoff’s wounds healed rapidly, and he remained in London for a fortnight, stopping at the Grand Hotel. During this time strenuous efforts were made by the police to track the assassins, and especially Alexis Pogram, but they achieved no results. So Demidoff finally started back to Russia, convinced that his opportunity was gone beyond recall.

With the exception of the part played by the girl, the affair was by no means a, mystery to him. It was clear that Pogram had betrayed the police agent to some of the inmates of the hotel, who had

a grudge against hihL-for’ his name was feared and detested bm scores of Russian refugees in all parts or Europe. As for the beautiful Helene, Demidoff long wondered who stye could have been, and what had prompted her to save his life. He attempted to discover her whereabouts through English spies, but months passed without fringing the desired information, and gradually he ceased to think of the matter.

111. Some three or four years after his adventure in the Hotel Neva, Pan! Demidoff was summoned one night to the headquarters of the Bureau o| Police, and instructed by his chief to proceed with several men to a certain house in the \evski Proapekt, St. Petersburg, and arrest a woman Avho had been wanted for weeas, and who had been located that very d<,y through the aid of an informer. Olga Nesteroff-—that Avas her name—had long been connected with the Revoluttnaiy party, and though young in years she had been implicated in numerous dynamite plots and attempted assassinations. Demidoff obeyed orders to the letter, and shortly before midnight he and his men entered the suspected bouse by force, and proceeded to make a thorough search. While his companions were in the lower apartments, Demidoff mounted alone to the second floor. Attracted by a gleam of light from a rear room, he burst open (he door, revolver in hand, and found himself face to face with the girl who hud saved his life on that memojpable night in London. Olga Nesterofir and the mysterious Helene were one and the same, She Avas as beautiful as ever, but her face was pale and agitated, and there were indications to show that she had been hastily preparing for flight by means cf the windoAv. Demidoff’s decision was formed instantly. There Avas nob a moment to spare, for Hie footsteps of the men were already audible on the staircase. “ Madame, you once saved my life!” he said. “It is now my turn to save a,vj,-s. Put out the gas, lower yourself instantly to the ground, and leave the city ; s soon as possible. No person shall enter ihis apartment for ten minutes—at the least ten minutes.” Before she could open her lips to rep'y he had closed the door softly belrind him. He joined his companions, and led Diem to the front part of the house, and when this had been thoroughly search3l they went to the rear room. On lighting the gas the police observe! with vexation the proofs of their defeat—the open window, the rope of kno;>.'d bedclothes dangling from the sill, and the abandoned articles that strewed the floor. “ This is an unfortunate night’s work, * Demidoff said calmly. “We nave come too late. Onr bird has flown.” The neighborhood was zealously scoured, but tho woman could not he fan a:!, nor was any trace of her snhsequendy discovered. Demidoff was reprimanded fot

negligence, bat the real part he had played in the matter was not suspected. Two month* afterwords ■* letter wa* slipped one evening trader tho door w hi* Office. It hind evidently been forwarded to St Petersburg trader cover of another address, for it bore neither stajnp nor post* mark. The contents were a* follow; “ London, February 19, 189 —. “My Dear Friend, — “ You will perhaps be glad to bear that I have renounced Nihilism, and that I shall never return to Russia. You have often wondered, doubtless, what motive prompted me to save your life when it Avas threatened in the Hotel Neva years ago. When I was a child of fifteen I fell from the Court Quay into the river, and a man plunged into the icy water and rescued me from drawing. That man was yourself. I never forgot your face or name, and as long as I live I shall hold you in grateful and sincere remembrance, “ Farewell. “Helene.” [The End.]