Part 3 (1/2)
”Sterling. Mr. Melchisadek Sterling.”
The philanthropist nodded and touched a bell on his table.
”I will give you a letter,” he said, as his secretary came in and seated herself at the typewriter, ”to the n.o.blest creature I have ever met, a woman of high birth and immense fortune who has devoted herself to the cause.”
And turning 'round in his chair he dictated to the attentive secretary:
”_My dear Princess Y_----”
It needed all that command over my features which it has taken me twenty years to acquire to conceal the emotion with which I heard this name. Less than half an hour had pa.s.sed since I had warned Lord Bedale that the Princess would be the most formidable enemy in my path, and now, on the very threshold of my enterprise, her name confronted me like an omen.
I need not repeat the highly colored phrases in which the unsuspecting philanthropist commended me to this artful and formidable woman as a fellow-worker in the holy cause of human brotherhood.
Not content with this service, the editor wanted to arrange a meeting of his league or brotherhood, or whatever it was, to give me a public send-off. As I understood that the meeting would partake of a religious character I could not bring myself to accept the offer.
In addition to the letter to the Princess Y----, he gave me another to a member of the staff of the Russian Emba.s.sy in London, a M.
Gudonov. He also urged me to call upon a member of Parliament, a rising politician who is not unlikely to have a ministerial post in the next government, and who has made himself known as an apologist of the Czar's. But as I had good reason to know that this gentleman was by no means a disinterested dupe, like Mr. Place, I prudently left him alone.
On going to the Russian Emba.s.sy to have my pa.s.sport vised I inquired for M. Gudonov.
The moment he entered the room I recognized him as one of the most unscrupulous agents of the notorious Third Section, one of the gang who drugged and kidnapped poor Alexander of Bulgaria. My own disguise, it is hardly necessary to say, was impenetrable.
This precious apostle of peace greeted me with unction, on the editor's introduction.
”You are going to our country on a truly n.o.ble errand,” he declared, with tears in his eyes. ”We Russians have reason to feel grateful to worthy Englishmen like you, who can rise above national prejudices and do justice to the benevolent designs of the Czar and his advisers.”
”I hope that I may be instrumental in averting a great catastrophe,”
I said piously.
”Even if you fail in preventing war,” the Russian replied, ”you will be able to tell your countrymen when you return, that it was due to the insane ambition of the heathen j.a.panese. It is the 'Yellow Peril,' my friend, to which that good Emperor William has drawn attention, from which we are trying to save Europe.”
I nodded my head as if well satisfied.
”Whatever you and your friends in Petersburg tell me, I shall believe,” I a.s.sured him. ”I am convinced of the good intention of your Government.”
The Russian fairly grinned at this simplicity.
”You cannot find a more trustworthy informant than the Princess Y----,” he said gravely. ”And just now she is in a position to know a very great deal.”
”How so?” I asked naturally--not that I doubted the statement.
”The Princess has just been appointed a lady-in-waiting to her imperial majesty the Dowager Empress Dagmar.”
This was a serious blow. Knowing what I did of the past of Princess Y----, I felt that no ordinary pressure must have been brought to bear to secure her admission into the household of the Czaritza. And with what motive? It was a question to which there could be only one answer. The War Party had guessed or suspected that the Czar's mother was opposed to them, and they had resolved to place a spy on her actions.
Inwardly thankful to Mr. Place for having been the means of procuring me this important information in advance, I received my pa.s.sport and quitted the Emba.s.sy with the heartfelt congratulations of the ex-kidnapper.
Forty-eight hours later I had crossed the Russian frontier, and my life was in the hands of the Princess.
My first step on arriving in the capital of the North was to put up at the favorite hotel of English visitors. The coupons of a celebrated tourist agency were credentials in themselves, and I had not forgotten to provide myself with the three articles indispensable to the outfit of every traveling Briton--a guide book, a prayer book, and a bath sponge.