Part 15 (1/2)
”It is formed in London, but the _coup_ is to be made at Brighton,” he replied slowly and seriously, ”a plot against Her Imperial Highness!”
I looked the man straight in the face, and then burst out laughing.
”You certainly do not appear to have any regard for the personal safety of your charge,” he exclaimed angrily. ”I have warned you. Therefore, take every precaution.”
I paused for a few seconds, then I said:
”Forgive me for laughing. General Markoff. But it is really too humorous--all this transparency.”
”What transparency?”
”The transparency of your attempt to terrify me,” I said. ”I know that the attempt made against the young lady and myself failed--and that His Imperial Highness the Grand Duke was unfortunately killed. But I do not think there will be any second attempt.”
”You don't think so!” he cried quickly. ”Why don't you think so?”
”For the simple reason that Danilo Danilovitch--the man who is a police-spy and at the same time responsible for plots--is just now a little too well watched.”
The man's grey face dropped when I uttered the name of his catspaw. My statement, I saw, held him confounded and confused.
”I--I do not understand you,” he managed to exclaim. ”What do you mean?”
”Well, you surely know Danilovitch?” I said. ”He is your most trusted and useful _agent-provocateur_. He is at this moment in England. I can take you now to where he is in hiding, if you wish,” I added, with a smile of triumph.
”Danilovitch,” he repeated, as though trying to recall the name.
”Yes,” I said defiantly, standing with my hands in my trousers pockets and leaning against the table placed in the centre of the room.
”Danilovitch--the shoemaker of Kazan and murderer of Marie Garine, the poor little tailoress in Petersburg.”
His face dropped. He saw that I was aware of the man's ident.i.ty.
”He is now staying with a compatriot in Blurton Road, Lower Clapton,” I went on.
”I don't see why this person should interest me,” he interrupted.
”But he is a conspirator. General Markoff; and I am giving you some valuable information,” I said, with sarcasm.
”You are not a police officer. What can you know?”
”I know several facts which, when placed before the Revolutionary Committee--as they probably are by this time--will make matters exceedingly unpleasant for Danilo Danilovitch, and also for certain of those who have been employing him,” was my quiet response.
”If this man is a dangerous revolutionist, as you allege, he cannot be arrested while in England,” remarked the General, his thick grey eyebrows contracting slightly, a sign of apprehension. ”This country of yours gives asylum to all the most desperate characters, and half the revolutionary plots in Europe are arranged in London.”
”I do not dispute that,” I said. ”But I was discussing the highly interesting career of this Danilo Danilovitch. If there is any attempt upon Her Imperial Highness the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Natalia, as you fear, it will be by that individual. General. Therefore I would advise your department to keep close observation upon him. He is lodging at Number 30B, Blurton Road. And,” I added, ”if you should require any further particulars concerning him, I daresay I shall be in a position to furnish them.”
”Why do you suspect him?”
”Because of information which has reached me--information which shows that it was his hand which launched the fatal bomb which killed the Grand Duke Nicholas. His Imperial Highness was actually killed by an agent of Secret Police! When that fact reaches the Emperor's ears there will, I expect, be searching inquiry.”
”Have you actual proof of this?” he asked in a thick, hoa.r.s.e voice, his cheeks paler than before.