Chapter XXIX.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5733, 28 November 1896, Page 1

Chapter XXIX.

DENOUNCED. Count Borovitchi did not feel exactly comfortable in liis mind when Madame von Schoffer's door closed behind him. The worst man has something of a conscience ; and Borovitchi's was at least sufficiently alive to make him uncomfortable. He knew that he ought to have married Natalie, for more reasons than ono ; and that it was to him she had a right to look for protection and support. He had thought to provide for her by marrying her to Frank Bickersteth ; and he was angry at her for her folly in losing so desirable a prize. This grievance was of the greatest use to him in silencing the uncomfortable mntterings of his conscience. If Natalie chose to break with Frank Bickersteth, tia said to himself, she had herself to thank for anything that might happen. If she fell into poverty — that was her affair. He washed his hands of her. Presently his thoughts turned to a much pleasanter subject. It only wanted three weeks to his wedding day. Mr Bickersteth had lately chosen to believe that his health -ras in a very precarious state ; and he -as anxious to see his daughter married, snd the alterations h8 contemplated making carried out without delay. He had therefore backed Borovitchi's entreaties for an early marriage, and Maud had been pressed into consenting. Once the son-in law of a wealthy English banker (an old man, too, without much power of resistance), Borovitchi told himself he would be beyond the range of the arrows of adverse fortune. He would havo dono with plots and treacheries. As for Count Beritza and his sister, he reckoned, them both aa already outside the sphere of things interesting. They were disposed of. Colonel Brinski had not returned to England ; and Borovitchi, though he had heard, like the rest of the world, of the assassination of Captain Ignatieff, had not learned whether Ursula had actually been apprehended or not. Now that his matrimonial schemes were turning out so well, Ursula's fate had become a matter of secondary importance. She, like her brother, was only important to him as standing between him and the succession tothe Beritza estates ; and hefelt sure that since Ursula had become a Nihilist, he would be able, sooner, or later, to obtain a grant of the estates from theCzar. Tho Count had also determined to drop his connection with the Nihilists. He would make no effort to withdraw from the sooiety, but he would resign his leadership, and make fairly large donations every year to their funds. This would, no doubt, be held to atone for his lack of zeal. He had been quite sincere when he told the Baroness that he would meet the revolutionaries that night for tho last time. His reason for attending the meeting was twofold. He wanted, in the first place, to make some provision for carrying on the ordinary routine work of the Society. He must find a successor. And in the second place he wished to get a few minutes' private conversation with the secretary. Dimitrieff feared the Count, and had avoided him ever since the night when he had taken the Count's money. But Borovitchi had more work for the secretary, who had already proved so pliable. He found it to be absolutely necessary that he should have not only the credit of possessing a large sum of money, but the power of disposing of a part of it, at least for a time. He required, therefore, Dimitriefl's signature to a document which would authorise him to dispose of some of the securities in which the fund 3of the Society were invested. Dimitrieff was sure to attend this meeting of the Society, and the Count intended to have a talk with him before the other members arrived, or after they had gone. It still wanted some hours to the time of meeting, which had been fixed for eight o'clock. The Count objected to this arrangement, because it interfered with his dinner hour, but as it suited every other member, he had felt compelled to acquiesce jnit. There was nothing for it but to dma at half -past six- and the Count proceeded to his favourite restaurant and ate a well-selected .and excellent meal, despite the unfashionable hour, p On leaving the restaurant, Borovitchi drove to the street in Soho in which the house rented by the Nihilists was situated, pizpitrieff was there: and the count seized the opportunity of speaking to him jn private, " You remembev," said he, " a letter you were good enough to write for me some little time ago?" The secretary nodded. •" It was perfectly successful. I have gained an important social advantage — I don't mind telling you— from its being (supposed that lam a wealthy man. But, zny dear Dimitrieff, you know wealth, even supposititious wealth like mine, entail- its responsibilities. In other words, I find I ;.. it make some use of this money — show ... y self the owner in some way, otherwise I all lay myfeelf open to suspicion. Now, have an opportunity, a very rare one I >vm-y tell you, for investing a fov*/ thousand pounds, not in securities yielding a paltry V ,er cent, nor in shaky companies, but in 7_,.3 capital— the capital, mark you — o: an ,:._ J-established banking firm. The profits will be, I imagine, something between 15 vxd 20 per cent, with pr&ctjcally first-class •?■ curity. Only, you understand, there is Ane difficulty that I must make the instru- • ent in my own name. And what I propose la this — you sign this power of Attorney (i think they call it), which gives ..ie the necessary power, You see our co:rustees have already signed it, I did not leed to go into all these explanations with ;hem; but in your case, of eoui'3B, it jis different. I merely told them that I had an opportunity of making some profit by changing the securities. I have only made the document apply to about half the ftmds — nine thousand pounds, The increase of interest mil be 15 per cent, but say 12 — seven hundred a year. I propose to share this. You take one-third, I another, and the remaining third of this surplus income will belong to the Society. If anyone should complain of the irregularity we can point to the increase of income, over two hundred a year, as our justification. Of coarse, we need not spsak of our interest in the matter unless we choose." "But, your Excellency, this paper puts nine thousand pounds of the Society's fund at your sole disposal." "Nominally it does. But, of course, I acknowledge your right as co-trustee to the full. The interest," he added, ih a lower tone, " will be paid half-yearly in advance." Dimitriefl's lips were dry, his hands were cold and trembling. "If anything were to go wrong," he stammered out. " Bless me, what can go wrong ?" cried the Count in affected surprise. "Do you suppose a British bank is going to fail because it has nine thousand pounds of the Society's money' as part of its working capital ? Tell you what, Dimitrieff." sinking his voice almost to a whisper—" If yon oblige me in this, and if you should find a way of dealing in a similar way with the remaining eight thousand— and I have it K^Mll______________________________fe

document for you with regard to the rest of the money. I can't propose anything fairer than that." This was equivalent to a proposal that they should divide the Society's funds between them. But put as Borovitchi had put it, it did not sound quite like that. The Count was plausible and strong. The secretary poor, greedy of money, and not very scrupulous. A minute later the discussion was over, and the power of attorney, duly executed, was safe in the Count's pocket. '-'-Beally this is a more egregious donkey than I had supposed," said the Count to himself. " What fetched him was the hope of fingering the other half of the money. Can the man be foolish enough to believe that I would allow him to do that ? " The Count's heart swelled with triumph as he pressed his arm over the pocket-book which contained the key to the Niliilisf s treasure-box. He was now doubly, secure. Whatever happened— even if Miss Bickersteth should at the last moment break off tho mateh — even if his hopes of gaining the family estates should be blighted, he would not be ruined. An horn* or two would suffice to realise nine thousand pounds — a much larger sum than he had ever before possessed at one timo. He would be able to defy the Nihilist Society, hiding himself effectually, say in some town of the American Union, or in British India, and there find an opportunity of turning the nine thousand pounds into ninety thousand. Such were the thoughts that floated the Count's subtle brain as he took his seat for the last time at the council-table of the Nihilists. The room was well filled, the attendance of members being larger than usual. The ordinary business was gone through rapidly, and no one seemed to be very much surprised when Count Borovitchi announced that the pressure of his private business obliged him to resign the temporary leadership of the English branch of the society. After a short pause, which nobody took advantage of, the Count went on to suggest that the secretary should fill his place pending instructions from headquarters • and this was agreed to. Borovitchi then rose, to signify that the meeting was at an end. At thar moment a knock was heard at the door, which of course was locked. It was opened, and an old man entered, worn and haggard. His name burst from the lips of every man present — "Lobieski." " Yes, friends, it is I," said the Jew, advancing to the table, and laying his hand on it, "lam in time, I see. Who is in the chair ?" " I am, my dear M. Lobieski," said the Count, in his usual bland manner. " That is to say, I was ; but the meeting is over. Let me congratulate you on your safe return. lam sure, friends and brothers, we are all delighted to see our leader among us once more." A murmur of approval i folio wed these words. The Jew smiled grimly. " I thank you, my friends. But I have* business that must be attended to at once. If the meeting is over, it must be reconstituted." Pressing his foot on that of Dimitrieff, as a sign for him to keep silence, Borovitchi said boldly — "I repeat that to-night's meeting is closed. You will no doubt resume your position among ns at onco; and it is in your power to call a fresh meeting when you please-^to-morrow, if you like." With these words he moved away from the table, found his hat, and put it on. The other members, accustomed to defer to the only man of rank in their number, began to follow his example. " Stay a moment !" cried the Jew, in a tone of menace that arrested every man's movements, as if it had been a thunderclap, "I have that here which proves and constitutes my authority." He called to some one outside ; and a man entered, a stranger to all in the room. He earned a box with him, which, at a sign from Lobieski, he placed on the table and opened. The Broken Fetter— symbol of supreme power in the Society, which all present looked on with something of superstitious awe, lay before them. "This," said the Jew, advancing and laying liis hand upon it, " this give 3me the right to summon a meeting of the Society at any time, and the right to your obedience. Brothers, resume your seats." They obeyed him in silence. "Some of you," he went on, "have at various times asked to Know the name of i the chief leader of om- Society, the man j who forms its plots and directs the execution of them. I will keep the secret no longer. Brothers, I myself am tho Chief of the Nihilist Society," Every one started, and looked at his neighbour in silence. Dimitrieff, glancing at the Count, noticed that he turned pale. "I have all along been intimately acquainted with the working of every one. of the committees ; and for some time it. has been evident to me that some one amonn-its ig a traitor." As the last word fell from the lips of the Jew, a sound that resembled nothing but the low growlings of so many beasts of prey filled tho room. As Governments fear and hate the Secret Sooiety, so \ the Secret Society fears and hates tenfold, a thousand fold, the spy. Lobieski disregarded the interruption. "Partly to satisfy my mind on this allimportant matter, and partly to attend to other affah-3 of the Society's business which required my presence., I went to Eussia. I knew that the police might have had seoret intelligence of my movements ; and it was well that I was prepared, for my footsteps were dogged from the moment of my leaving London." Tlie growl of indignation, loathing, and deadly hate, rose up again. Lobieski raised his hand to suppress it, and continued, " By the help of some devoted friends in Germany, I succeeded in throwing the spies off the track. I went to St Petersburg ; but the exits were so closely watched that I was detained there for some weeks. From St Petersburg I went to Birtova, inorder that, I might inquire on the spot what steps, if any, had been taken to carry out the death sentence which you pronounced in March. At Birtova I was a dozen times on the point of being arrested. I lay for days in a concealed room, just large enough for me to lie in, and about two feet broad. At last I escaped, by means of a boat on the river, in company with a friend who had managed to escape from the prison, Count Beritza. "A plot, devilish in its ingenuity and its coldblooded cruelty, had been laid by the police authorities to entrap another of our number— the Count's sister — who had gone to Birtova to aid her brother after his escape from prison. I more than suspect that the same false heart that betrayed me prompted that outrage. But that I pass by." "Do you know him? Who is he? What is the villain's name ?' resounded on all sides. " Yes, I know him," answered the Jew • and suddenly pointing his lean forefinger at Borovitchi, he eried — "That is the traitor!" The howl of rage that both the Count and Lobieski expected to hear did not follow. Thero was dead silence. The assembled Nihilists had been so accustomed

to regard the Count as one of the chief pillars of the Society, that they could not, all in a moment, believe that he was a common traitor. They thought there must be some mistake. Borovitchi was quick to take advantage of this. . " My good sir," he said, calmly fixing his eyes on Lobieski, " I think you must be mad." He turned to the assembled Nihilists. " Anxiety and — well, fear, have evidently turned the poor man's brain, I, a traitor! Good heavens, what will he say next ? " This was said witli a wondering look cast round the room. One or two of the conspirators threw dark glances at him, but the majority seemecLpuzzled. Lobieski took two documents from his pocket book, and handed them to the secretary. " Bo good enough," he said, " to read these aloud." With faltering tongue, andtthe drops of perspiration gathering on his brow, Dimitrieff obeyed. Theywere letters from Colonel Brinski. One referred to the seizure of a secret printing press in Russia, •the other to Lobieski*s projected journey. Both addressed the Count by name. For the third time that ominous muttered growl was heard. Men stared into one another's eyes, clenched their fists and set their teeth. " Stop, friends," cried the Count ; "do you allow yourselves to be duped by this old man, who, I begin to think is more rogue than fool ? For anything I know these letters -were manufactured. I feel certain that any expert would say they were impudent forgeries. But at all events I have nothing to do with them. It is a very easy thing to write a manfs name in a letter. Don't you see that this is not one atom, one tittle of evidence against me?" The Count, as he said this, stood with his back to the door of the room, close to it, one hand behind him, the other resting in tho bosom of his overcoat. A look of disdain was on his face, which to many of those present seemed the scorn which an honest man unjustly accused feels for his traducers. " What the Count says is true enough," said one of the Nihilists, suddenly — a powerful man of the lower rank, who had not yet spoken. " What we would like to know, sir, is : — Where did you get those two letters? How did you come by them?" "I will tell you in a moment," said Lobieski. "Go into the next room, and bring here the two persons you will find there." Borovitchi was compelled to stand back from the door. He had a presentiment that the ond had come, and nerved himself to meet whatever fate was in store for him. But he instinctively recoiled two or three steps when Alexis and Ursula Beritza walked into the room. . They passed, on to the upper end of tho table, while Borovitchi l'esumed his old position by the door. " This, my brothers," said Lobieski, "is Alexis, Count, Beritza, sentenced to lifelong imprisonment for the crime of loving his country too well. He was my companion in peril, This lady is his sister, and, I believe, a member of our society. Question the lady yourself, brother," he added, turning to the powerful man who had just spoken. The man who was addressed took the letters and placed them before Ursula;. iHiiiiTln "ifffllT ™™*™*»" "-"°" J™_m,».fq

>JlUKXMa^«bl^ia«aiiit*tl^Wt_MttMßlM " Yes, I know them." " Perhaps you gave them to M. Lobieski ?" "I did." " Who gave them to you then ? " "No one, I took them from .Count Borovitchi's writing desk." • A silence followed, so profound that if anyone in the room had closed his eyes he might have thought himself alone. Everyone looked at Borovitchi. " That woman," said the Count, with a gesture of contempt, "has been my enemy since her childhood. She has hated xne always. She is by her own confession, a thief. Why should you take her word, against mine ? " " The rest of the correspondence is in the writing-table still, I daresay," said Ursula calmly. " Another lie ! " " Will you allow us to search the writingtable ? " 3aid the man who had taken the lead throughout. "You do me too much honour," said Borovitchi, with a mocking smile. Outwardly as calm as usual, he was inwardly in a furious passion. He well understood that Ursula had taken the letters from the bundle in the inner drawer of his writingtable, though he could not imagine how or when she had done it. He knew that he owed to her his ruin, and all the consequences of this exposure. As he looked at her, the deep and bitter resentment he had first felt at seeing a look of contempt in her face, when she wa_S little more than a child, and wliich had sprung up again at intervals in his heart ever since, rose within him like a river rising in time of flood, and mastered him. He gave no outward sign o£ the passion, that was surging within, but at that moment he was as truly devilpossessed as ever-man was. " You say your word is as good as the lady's, yet you refuse to allow your desk to be searched," said his questioner. "Is that your answer?" " Not exactly," said the . Count, in the same calm, even tone 3as before. "My best answer is this !" As the words passed his lips he drew his right v hand from his breast. It held a small revolver; and before anyone could answer, or call out, or even see what he was doing, he had fired two shots at Ursula as fast as the mechanism wonld permit. She swayed to one side, and fell into her brother's arms. Half-ar-dozen men rose and sprang . towards the assassin. But he was too quick for them. Their outstretched hands struck against the closed door. Ono of them tore madly at the handle, but it was held with a powerful grip on the other | side, and next moment a key grated in the lock. Borovitchi had foreseen, whenever Lobieski appeared, that an attempt might I be made to seize him, and had withdrawn the key from the lock by means of his left hand as he stood with his back to the door. Long before the lock could be forced, the Count had fled. Next morning, a few minutes before ten o'clock, a man with long, black hair, and a full, black beard, tinged with gray— no moustache — might have beeuseen standing in a doorway at the foot of an alley just opposite theXondon and Provincial Bank, in .the City. He wore a suit of very dark tweed, a soft felt hat, and spectacles, and looked like a Germany Professor out for a holiday. He was apparently busy search- j ing among -the names painted on the doorposts for one he wanted to find. But the moment tho doors-of the bank were opened to the public the German. Professor abandoned his quest, crossed the street, and w»nf it^v 4-h Q Tvm.Tr

\ip to one of the cashiers, he took a letter from his breast-pocket, and handed it across the counter. " You had hotter see the manager," said the cashier, running his eye over the letter. , " That is his room, 5 ' and he pointed to a large glass door. As the Professor was making his way to the dooi*, a stranger walking very rapidly from the main entrance, make straight for it also. The Professor lengthened (without quickening) his pace, and reached the glass door just as the stranger was entering the room. This enabled him to glance inside. He saw two men sitting together near the wall. One was Dimitrieff, pale as a condemned criminal • the other was an old man — Lobieski . Dimitrieff and Lobieski had both looked up when the door opened ; but seeing a man he did nob know Lobieski had again bent his eyes on the floor. The secretary was still looking towards the door when the German Professor peered over the stranger's shoulder. Dimitrieff started and turned even paler than ho was before, for in the black-bearded spectacled German he had i*ecognised Borovitchi. But the Count's gaze seemed to fascinate him. He neither moved nor spoke ; and when the stranger turned round to see who was following him, Borovitchi had disappeared. He was never again seen in London. But six months later, in the city of Belgrade, a policeman came one night upon a man sitting on the pavement, close to the wall of the Eussian Consulate. At first the policeman supposed that the man was tipsy .He was not drunk, but dead. He had been stabbed to the heart. Very little was heard of the incident, the newspapers ascribing the death to a street quarrel. But the officials at the Consulate knew that' the murdered man was one of the agents of tlie Eussian secret police, and that his true name was, Count Borovitchi. They also knew (though the journalists did not) that pinned to the Count's breast there had been found an envelope bearing the words — A. TEAITOE; and that just underneath these words was a curious mark, like part of a chain, with one of the links broken asunder.