Part 14 (1/2)
”None whatever. The poor girl lost her life through her untoward discovery. The police themselves knew the truth, but on action being withdrawn, the fellow was perfectly free to continue his nefarious profession of _agent-provocateur_, for the great risk of which he had evidently been well paid.”
”But does not Hartwig know all this?” I asked quickly, much surprised.
”Probably not. General Markoff keeps his own secrets well. Hartwig, being head of the criminal police, would not be informed.”
”But he might find out, just as you have found out,” I suggested.
”He might. But my success, sir, was due to the merest chance, remember,” Tack said. ”Hartwig's work lies in the detection of crime, and not in the frustration of political plots. Markoff knows what an astute official he is, and would therefore strive to keep him apart from his catspaw Danilovitch.”
”Then, in your opinion, many of these so-called plots against the Emperor are actually the work of the Kazan shoemaker, who arranges the plot, calls the conspirators together and directs the arrangements.”
”Yes. His brother is a chemist in Moscow and it is he who manufactures picric acid, nitro-glycerine and other explosives for the use of the unfortunate conspirators. Between them, and advised by Markoff, they form a plot, the more desperate the better; and a dozen or so silly enthusiasts, ignorant of their leaders' true calling, swear solemnly to carry it out. They are secretly provided with the means, and their leader has in some cases actually secured facilities from the very police themselves for the _coup_ to be made. Then, when all is quite ready, the astute Danilovitch hands over to his employer, Markoff, a full list of the names of those who have been cleverly enticed into the plot. At night a sudden raid is made. All who are there, or who are even in the vicinity are arrested, and next morning His Excellency presents his report to the Emperor, with Danilovitch's list ready for the Imperial signature which consigns those arrested to a living grave on the Arctic wastes, or in the mines of Eastern Siberia.”
”And so progresses holy Russia of to-day--eh, Tack?” I remarked with a sigh.
The secret agent of British diplomacy, shrugging his shoulders and with a grin, said:
”The scoundrels are terrorising the Emperor and the whole Imperial family. The killing of the Grand Duke Nicholas was evidence of that, and you, too, sir, had a very narrow escape.”
”Do you suspect that, if the story of the woman who recognised Danilovitch be true, it was actually he himself who threw the bomb?”
”At present I can offer no opinion,” he answered. ”The woman might, of course, have been mistaken, and, again, I doubt whether Danilovitch would dare to show himself so quickly in Petersburg. To do so would be to defy the police in the eyes of his fellow-conspirators, and that might have aroused their suspicion. But, sir,” Tack added, ”I feel certain of two facts--absolutely certain.”
”And what are they?” I inquired eagerly, for his information was always reliable.
”Well, the first is that the outrage was committed with the full connivance and knowledge of the police, and secondly, that it was not the Grand Duke whom they sought to kill, but his daughter, the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Natalia, and you yourself!”
”Why do you think that?” I asked.
”Because it was known that the young lady held letters given her by Madame de Rosen, and intended to hand them over to the Emperor. There was but one way to prevent her,” he went on very slowly, ”to kill her!
And,” he added, ”be very careful yourself in the near future, Mr Trewinnard. Another attempt of an entirely different nature may be made.”
”You mean that Her Highness is still in grave danger--even here--eh?” I exclaimed, looking straight at the clean-shaven man seated before me.
”I mean, sir, that Her Highness may be aware of the contents of these letters handed to her by the lady who is now exiled. If so, then she is a source of constant danger to General Markoff's interests. And you are fully well aware of the manner in which His Excellency usually treats his enemies. Only by a miracle was your life saved a few weeks ago.
Therefore,” he added, ”I beg of you, sir, to beware. There may be pitfalls and dangers--even here, in Brighton!”
”Do you only suspect something, Tack,” I demanded very seriously, ”or do you actually know?”
He paused for a few seconds, then, his deep-set eyes fixed upon mine, he replied.
”I do not suspect, sir, I _know_.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
HIS EXCELLENCY GENERAL MARKOFF.
What Tack had told me naturally increased my apprehension. I informed the two agents of Russian police who in turn guarded the house in Brunswick Square.