WHEN THE EMPIRE CRASHED.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 12754, 25 September 1919, Page 4

WHEN THE EMPIRE CRASHED.

* ... * t£« B? ABTHUE W. MAKCHMONT »f t

£ Author of A $ " When I was Czar " A *£ "The Man Without a Me^lors^ ,, T V etc., ate." *

CHAPTER XXVTL AX rXDSESTAjriHirG. Although every second’s delay wa. s oi vital importance if Avola- was to get utvay, gi-g j-omained leaning against tne p/aJI ot the dingy passage listlessly ind tie-rent to everything. Even when the men in the sitting-room found the door locked and began to smash at it to break it down, the sound produced no other effect than a slight start. She hat. apparently given up all thought of escaping. This was too much for me. After such risks to secure her safety ant. there was chance of escape.- it was to-, galling to be beaten by this baffling indifference.

‘‘You must rouse yourself,” I cried angrily ; and when the appeal had no effect, I took her arm, hurried her to the back door and across the. iittl yard, li£fc ed her over the low fence, ant; j rushed her along the narrow passap. until we reached a. street some twenri. or thirty yards distant. “Now do yon understand you can go?” I said, releasing ruv hold. /. she asked fatuously. '■ An3rwhe.ro oat of this- If you won’t make an effort to save yourself, I’] 1 make it for you,” and I slipped mv arm into hers a Tain and hurried on. It didin’t matter a toss which way we went, so I took the turnings at random and did not pause again until we had put sufficient distance between us and Petrov Street to feel safe from th? nsk of pursuit. Then I pulled up. ‘‘We’re far enough now" to he safe.” I said, and drew hack to let her understand she was free to go where she would. She, was m better shape by that time, rtie fact tnat she was out of reach of tne police, the hurried walk, and th* exhilarating nip ip the air had restored her nerve._ Her step- had grown much firmer during the last few minutes. “Why have you stooped?” she asked“lt’s time to settle what’s to he done.” She paused, and then, to my relief, she laughed. “ What can we do?” 1 didn't fail to notice that “ we." “I’m glad to hear that laugh. It’s the onlv way to face a mess like this.” I revlied. “ And it is a deuce of a. raeas at the best.” “I lost my nerve in that- awful house." “And no wonder; hut it doesn’t matter, now that you’ve' found it again.” ‘‘ I shouldn’t have got away if it hadn’t been for you." “ I had to he rather roush, hut I lost ray temper-■ It just maddened me to I see you chucking away such a. chanc©-; I and you’d already seen for yourself j there’s a good hit of the brute in j me.” ■ j "I wonder,” she said with a slight] reminiscent- shiver: adding hesitatingly, | “ You—you’re not- going to-—to leave ms?” “ Not until you wish it,” I said v4th a, thrill of pleasure at this first sign of confidence. “What are you going to do?” she asked nest. “ I’ll lie hanged if I know: but what you mean to do is the question just now.’ 1 ffiShe did not answer at once, “ Shan’t we attract less notice if we walk on instead of standing here?" she suggest- , ed then. I I nodded, and we- went on at a more ! leisurely pace. There were still enough I people about to prevent our attracting any notice from the- police- w© passed, and I was cudgelling mv wits what to do. when Avoir broke the long silence j by repeating her question. “We must settle your matters first," t said. “Very well. What do you propose? It was you who brought- me here.” “Where do you wish to go?" “I have nowhere to go; no money: and so far as I, can tell, not- a single : friend to turn to in the whole of Petrograd,” she replied, with a shrug and a piteous, almost despairing sigh. I “I’d much rather hear you laugh j again. Despair’s no sort, of a- horse Ito carry us out- of this mess. Things ! are much the same with me as with you, for the moment, at- any rate. I have a. rouble or two; but I’m not going to throw' up the sponge- Bad as i things are, we’re better off than ii we'd stopped in that house; so we’ii put that down ns an asset on the other side of tbs lodger. I should hav© been on my way to gaol and you ” ‘Never mind that-,” she interposed quickly. “ I—l’ll try not to give way again, hut ” and she tailed off intc silence. “Well, the first thing is to settle how we two stand. Are you willing for us to see things through together?” j She did not reply. Do you understanc 1 that all that business with the mot 1 was just put on and that I’m not tip : foul-mouthed, violent- brute I had tr pretend, any more than I am Ka.r ■ Stein the crook and murderer- I’ll tel I you how I came to be mistaken foi ' him;” and 1 described my firs/ meet , mg with Kellerman at the Hermidor. “Are you an English secret agentthen ?” “No. I can’t tell you more ahou iuyself than I have already; that am the Englishman Rafe Henshaw. I you can’t take the rest on trust. an< believe that 1 am sincere in my wisl to help you, there’s nothing for us bu to go our own ways.” “ I’m not so blind as not to see yoi have helped me. I didn’t think so i Anna’s house, and I—l’m sorry.” “ That needn’t worry you. I had to b realistic to tool the others. Tha Garski is a devil incarnate.” I “He’s one of Mir ski's creatures.” ; “And worthy of his master,” I said The news explained many tilings; hi attack on the prison; the attempt t have me shot there; and his desperat effort to get Avola into his clutches “We needn’t worry about- him no? however. We must settle what to dc Are we to separate?" “It would serve me right after th -ray I’ve treated you." 1 We’ll talk about that, when we’r mt of the wood; and if you’re willing we’ll try to get out together. On » thing’s certain—-we can’t wander abou the streets all night; and as to wher to go, 1 have an idea, but it’ll put big strain on your trust in me.” “ Well?” sue asked as I paused. “ Probably the last place any of thos brutes would expect us to go to is ti house we’ve just left; and for the li) of me I can’t think of any other po siblc shelter- Can you?” It was a very bizarre suggestion ar she did not reply for some little tim “I have friends at Mistolova,” si said at length, “ but of’ course I can get to them without money.” “ How far is it?” “Twelve or fifteen versts.” “ Shall we try our hick at the ra: way station? What I have might 1 j enough for a ticket, part of the w; 1 at any rate.” “But you?” “ Never mind about me; I can ma age all right.” She shook her head. “It’s no us They are a very long way from aj station, and I couldn’t find,the way (the dark and again we walked sor distance in silence. “ What about your old nurse? Con / you find her?” I asked presently*. I have no idea where she’s gor , Besides, I’ve brought trouble enou 10 her already.^

. She. was now shivering with the cold; -he snow was falling fast, a keen pierces wind had risen, and the streets ■ ere nearly deserted; a fact whito ■deled to our risk considerably. To reaain out of doors all night was an impossibility ; and, although I was loath -o repeat my suggestion to return to j. etrov Street, I could she nothing ©lso -or it, and had purposely headed in -hat direction. Presently she stopped and asked wiisre w 6 were. “We must do what just now,” s he added. ,e re close to Petrov Street You on t ’ “f afraid to be in the house a.one. I'll go in first and see that the coasts clear, of course.” She didn’t aj id in a few minutes we came to the end of the alleyway at the back, Gan you make out. which is the house? all alike to me." -*-t> the fourth from the other end.” she said, and stayed in the allev while 1 got over the fence and crept, up vj me house, rhe back door was unlc-cised, and I opened it very cautiously and entered stopping with a- start when I round the light in the passage still burn--132£, there was no one in the house, howerer, and when I had been into everv room I returned to Avola. and brought aer m, r . tours not likely to be worriedil7 to get. some sleep; you’re dead jeaten, and will need all your strength .or to-morrow. Good-night”: and I aeld out my band. She Mid not take .t- and I turned to go out again. ' tvuere are you going?” she asked, catching ray arm quietly. ”1 shan't get far awaV.” I replied, milling. ‘‘Don’t sdt scared.” , * -Do you think I’d let you sleep in tne streets on a night, like this ? ion aiust have a high opinion of me,'’ she aashed indignantly. Its not the first niuht bv g good many that I’ve slept in the open, 1 can assure you. Good-night,” , "If you go I shall go with you. I ciaren't stay hors alone/’ site added, as ’ it that. were, the reason, "Then get og to bod. Better not undress, ia case we have to leave in a hurry. I shall be m that front, room, iind I'll call .you if there's any need, too your best to get some sleep, mind, i 11 answer for your safety.” That s better,” die said, lifting her eyes to mine- She hesitated a moment, held out her hand with a touch of embarrassment, and said. “ Goodnight—Mr Henshaw, ’ W© shook hands and sira turned .away, but paused a»ain at tne foot, of the stairway and smiled. “I feel quite safe now/ I—l am so sorry.” . For feeling safe?” I asked, laughinglv. No, because—for all the wrong I’ve dene yon,” she cried, and hurried away leaving me to guess whether this meant, merely regret for having put the police on me, the expression of* a new confidence, or the dawn of happier relations between us. f . I I laf i .ample fame for such speculations during the long watch through the night. There was always the possibility • that. Garski might take it, into that red bead of his to corns spying about the i house; and in view of this. it. was 1 necessary to,keep on the alert’ I made tne front room my sentry box, picked out the least uncomfortable chair, and sat close to the window, listening carefully to_ every footfall. , The night passed, and as soon as the ’ daw Q broke, I went out to the sink at. the back, had such a wash as was pracand returned to my post until I heard Avola, com© dawn the creaky stairs. She looked all the better tor . the night’s rest, and met me with a bright smile, “You slept all right. I cap see,” 1 said ..cheerily. Tf And you’re in the nick of time to discuss a very weighty matter.”* “Something happened in the night?” Not a. thing. I mean whether we can find anything for breakfast?” “ I expect we can.” she said; and wo both laughed and went off together to forage. • W© found bread, butter, eggs and coffee, and with the aid, of a samovar, Avola did wonders with the eggs, so that the breakfast was a huge success. I We were both famished, and, had there 1 been nothing but dry bread and cold water, should ho ve -enjoyed it. By tacit consent we kept off the discussion of our future during the meal, and it was not until w© had finished and I was smoking on© of my few remaining cigarettes, that eh© referred to it, “ Are you able to stand bad news now?-” “The worst, with perfect equanimity,” I assured her. “ Well, the room I had has been ransacked and the money 1 had there stolen. That bad enough for you?” she asked brightly, “ Nob a bit of it. I can cap it with good. Thi?. will be the last day of our bothers. A friend of min© at. the British Embassy will be back to-day from Moscow; all my belongings, including money, are at his place: and, best of all, he’s the very man to get us out of tho wood. Only a matter of a few hours ” She didn’t seem quite as pleased as she might have been. “It’s'very good news, of course,” she replied. “ And I I’m very glad for your sake.” ! , “ Bit lukewarm that, isn’t it? I thought you’d have been ready to jump , out of your skin very nearly.” ‘ ‘ I didn’t mean to be lukewarm ; hut i words, and made a. clatter .in washing , the Matos wo had used. After a minute , she laughed and looked round at me as , ah© dried her bands. “ It’s perfectly i ridiculous; but I suppose it's the broakl fast.” “Got. indigestion?” I quizzed. She nodded with the brightest of smiles 11 Mental indigestion. 1 sup- , pose you’ll only laugh at me, but you may as well know bow stupid 1 am. t I was idiot enough to feel sorry for L the moment. What, do you say to t that?” 1 I shook ray bead and laughed, i ■, “Nothing doing.” I 'said. t “I suppose id must be the contrast. I was so utterly downhearted and misi erable yesterday iba.t this ” —she i paused to look round tho wretched little room—“this unconventionality seems a like—well, almost like happiness, 1 t cAu’t understand it, and of course it's positively idiotic; but when you said it was to come to s.n end to-day I—well, • somehow I couldn't feel as delighted s as you -did. You ought to have told a me before breakfast when I was so s famished.” ;. “ Doesn’t’ it strike you that happi- . ness may still be found with a little I. less—uneonventiouality ?” “ I wonder,’’ she murmurecL Her e look grew suddenly grave and she lap-ed into earnest thoughtc “ You’re not going to begin to worry again already, are you?” e She shook her head slightly and sight eel with a quick gesture of the hand e round the room. “ It’s not about this, a There are so many other things.” “ One thing at a time’s a good rule, you know. We’re done all right so fai ;e and. with a decent allowance, of luck e can’t_he!p pulling through now.” o “Yes, that's the way to look at it s- of course,’’ she said slowly after think ing. “1 won’t worry; at least I’ll ty d not to”; and not, without an efforl e- she smiled. “ And what’s to-day’s pro io gramme?” ’t “ Masterly inactivity. In othei words, we’ll lie low here till tho even ing and then hunt up my friend Mel some. Meanwhile can’t you find ; il- shabbier get up, more in character witl 3e mine, I mean, in case we are smokec ty out of here?” “11l go and seeabout it”; and shi went upstairs again. Judging by thi q. time it took she found it a difficult jol to dress for the part. She was at i ©. the best part of the morning, and ' iy passed the time going from one roon in to the other on the look-out for Undo no sirable visitors, trying meanwhile t look a bib ahead.

That Melsomo would do anything ia his power to help me was certain as certainty itself; but helping Avola was a different proposition. It might depend entirely on fas reasons for hoi being fn hiding; and what these were I neither knew nor caredBut be would wont, to know. His position at the Embassy would make it awkward for him to compromise himself by helping a, Russian to escape from the clutches of her own Government. It wag a, tangle, and I was still scratching my head over it when I caught sight of Garski on the opposite pavement, staring at the house with unpleasantly suggestive curiosity. Avola cams down at. tha-t moment. "Will this do?” she asked, smiling. "It's taken a. long time.” Sh© looked the peasant woman to the life; even tho hair was in complete character. “ Couldn't be better, and I’m glad you’re ready”;' and I told her about Garski being in the street. '' What shall we do?” ‘ 1 Just wait to sea ir he means to com© in- We must flit if h© does.” It was soon clear that he did- H© crossed tho street, tried the window, and was surprised when he found it fastened. ■ "I fastened it,” I" told her. ” He’ll know that someone has been here since ho left, and > will fetch some of his friends. We'd better go while there’s time to get. away and before he finds someone to watch the bach.” “I’m ready.” she agreedThen Garski made a second attempt, to raise the window, stood thinking'a moment, and ran off along the street. "There’s nothing for it hut to bolt,” T said, and w© went to the hack of tbs house. ‘‘ He may mean to come and try the back door,” suggested Avola shrewdly. "Watch a moment, at the back window while I stay here,” X said. She darted into the room and was back almost directly. !> He s getting into the yard,” she said. 45 '.All right. Tb© door’s locked, w©’U go tins way. I’ll see if it’s all clear.” As I looked out;W© beard Garski at tb© back door, and h© was rattling the handle vigorously as wo slipped out. walked leisurely to the nearest turning. and then quickened up to a rapid walk. (To be continued.)