Part 27 (1/2)

”And so do I,” he sighed. ”I only wish I could go to London oftener.

It is to be regretted that my recent visits there have not exactly found favour with the Council of Ministers.” Then, after a long pause, he said: ”Well, I suppose I must not refuse this request of yours, Trewinnard. But I fear you will find your winter journey an extremely uncomfortable one. When you are back, come direct to me. I would like to hear the result of your observations. Let me see? Besides the permit to use the post-horses, you will require an order to speak with the prisoner, Marya de Rosen, alone, and an order to the Governor of Tomsk, who has the register which will show to which settlement she has been deported.”

My heart leaped within me, for at first I had feared refusal.

”As Your Majesty pleases,” was my reply, and I added my warmest thanks.

”I'll write them out now,” he said; and, turning, he seated himself at the little escritoire in the corner of the small, old-world room and commenced to scribble those Imperial decrees which no one within the Russian Empire would dare to disobey.

While he did so I stood gazing out of the small, deep-set double windows across a flat dismal landscape, brown with the tints of autumn--the wide and weedy moat which surrounded the castle, the stretch of grazing-land and then a belt of dense forest on the skyline--the Imperial game preserves.

That silent old room, dull, faded and sombre, was just the same as it had been when Catherine the Great had feted her favourite Potemkin, the man who for years ruled Russia and who fought so valiantly against the Turks. There, in that very room, the Treaty of Ja.s.sy, which gave Russia the littoral between the Bug and the Dniester, had been signed by Catherine in 1792, and again in that room the Tzar Alexander the First had received the news of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow.

At that small buhl table whereat the Emperor was now writing out my permits the Tzar Nicholas had signed the decree taking away the Polish const.i.tution, and, years later, he had written the final orders to his ill-fated army fighting against the British in the Crimea.

Somewhere in the stone corridor outside could be heard the measured tramp of the sentry, but that, and the rapid scratching of the Emperor's pen, were the only sounds which broke the quiet.

At last he rose and handed me three sheets of foolscap bearing the Imperial arms--the orders which I sought.

I took them with thanks, but after a moment's hesitation I ventured to add:

”I wonder if I might request of Your Majesty a further favour?”

”Well,” he asked with a smile, ”what is it?”

”That my journey to Siberia should be kept a secret from the police?”

”Eh--what?” he asked quickly, looking at me strangely. ”You do not wish the police to know. Why? There is to be no attempted escape, surely?”

”I give Your Majesty my word that Madame de Rosen will not attempt to escape,” I said. ”I will, indeed, make myself responsible for her. The fact is that I know I have enemies among the Secret Police; hence I wish them to remain in entire ignorance of my journey.”

”Enemies!” he echoed. ”Who are they? Tell me, and I will quickly turn them into your friends,” he said.

”Alas, Sire, I do not exactly know their ident.i.ty,” was my reply.

”Very well,” he replied at last, selecting another cigarette from the big golden box upon the table, ”I will say nothing--if you so desire.

But, remember, you have made yourself responsible for the woman.”

”I willingly accept the responsibility,” I replied. ”But, Your Majesty, there is another matter. I would suggest that Hartwig be detailed to remain with Her Highness the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Natalia at Brighton until my return. He is there at present, awaiting Your Majesty's orders.”

At my words he rang a bell, and Calitzine, his private secretary, appeared, bowing.

”Send a telegram at once to Hartwig. Where is he?” he asked, turning to me.

”At the Hotel Metropole, Brighton,” I said.

”Telegraph to him in cipher that I order him to remain with Natalia until further orders.”

”Very well, Your Majesty,” replied the trusted official, bowing.

”And another thing,” exclaimed the Emperor. ”Telegraph, also in cipher, to all Governors of Siberian provinces that Mr Colin Trewinnard, of London, is our guest during his journey across Siberia, and is to be treated as such by all authorities.”