WHEN I WAS CZAR

“‘IT IS NOT CUSTOMARY FOR ME TO EXPLAIN MY POSITION
TWICE,’ I SAID WITH A LOFTY AIR.”—[Page 30.]

When I
Was Czar

A ROMANCE

By ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT
Author of “By Wit of Woman,” “In The Name of a
Woman,” “By Right of Sword,” “For
Love or Crown,” etc.

A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers
NEW YORK

Copyright, 1903,
By Arthur W. Marchmont
All rights reserved
Published in October, 1903

CONTENTS

When I was Czar

Chapter I—A LETTER HOME

The Palace, St. Petersburg.

MY Dear Miller,—

Your letter, which was as short as old Canfield’s temper, reached me in Berlin as I was starting for here. I’m off to Khiva, this wise.

You’ll remember my old yarn about the Czar having saved my life years ago in a pig-sticking do in Germany—he shoved or kicked me into a bush just in the nick of time when the brute made his rush—and how we then discovered the strong resemblance between us? Well, it’s still true, and things have been happening in consequence.

I ran across Burnaby’s book about Khiva a while back and resolved to go there. He says that three Tartars can eat a whole sheep at a single meal, and I want to see if it’s true. Any old tag’s good enough excuse for a globe-trotter, so I wrote to the Czar, reminded him of the pig incident, and asked permission to go East. As a result, I’m here as his guest; we’ve had a chat over the old time, and I’m to go where, when and how I like all over his dominions. He’s an awfully decent sort, and I’m in for a real good time. But it’s been a queer show.

There’s a woman in it of course—and a glorious woman too. A tall, queenly creature, as handsome as a Greek, with the free carriage of one of our own American girls. I saw her on the train, or rather she saw me and seemed particularly interested in me, and it was suiting me very nicely when out came the reason. We stopped at a station some miles from the capital, and as the girl and I were separated from the rest of the people, she said in an undertone—

“Your Majesty does not count the risks of travelling incognito, alone?”

“There are pleasures to counterbalance any risks, mademoiselle,” I answered. “Your solicitude is one of them.” And I smiled, partly at her amazing mistake and partly because she was so pretty. Then to put myself right, I added: “But you mistake, I am no Majesty. I am an American, Harper C. Denver is my name.” She lifted her eyebrows and smiled again, in obvious disbelief, and replied in French—

“An American who understands Russian, speaks French, and resembles His Majesty the Czar.”

“An American who would gladly welcome an opportunity of seeing you again, mademoiselle.”

“An American who does not desire it more fervently than I. Meanwhile, accept my warning, sire.” She spoke with intense earnestness, and then left the train.

How’s that for an adventure, eh? But that was only scene one. I sat thinking it over until the train ran into the station at Petersburg, and then came scene two.

The moment I stepped from the cars I saw that considerable preparations had been made to receive some one of importance, and while I stood looking about for him an old man, tightly bound in a somewhat rich uniform, with two or three companion volumes in attendance and a shelf of soldiers behind, came up to me. He waved everybody else out of earshot, and then with an almost reverential salute, said, in a low voice—

“Mr. Denver, I am sure.”

“Yes, that’s my name.”

“Allow me to welcome you to the capital in my august master’s name. I am Prince Kalkov, and His Majesty has instructed me to conduct you to the Palace. Will you accompany me?”

By this time the people on the platform had begun to show considerable interest in the proceedings, to my intense amusement, and came crowding around a bit.

“I shall be delighted,” I replied; and accordingly the Prince gave a word of command to those in attendance, a guard of soldiers was formed, and I was in this way escorted to the first of a string of carriages in waiting.

“To the Palace at full gallop,” cried the Prince in a tone loud enough to reach the by-standers. Some one raised a shout of “God save the Emperor,” and in another minute we were off to the accompaniment of loud cries and ringing cheers from the crowd, which was by that time a pretty big one.

That was my sensational entrance into the capital. Here I am at the Czar’s Palace, and from what I can judge there’s a great deal more of the same kind to follow.

“Which is why I remark,

And my language is plain,

That for ways that are dark

And for tricks that are vain,

The Russian at Home is peculiar.

And the same I shall hope to explain”—another time.

Comic opera with a dash of mysticism seems about a fair description of things up to now. More, when I’ve time to write.

By the way, couldn’t you manage to leave Wall Street and the dollar raking process for a while and meet me on my return? I mean to go on from Khiva through India to China. Come and lunch with me, say in Pekin, and have a time among the pigtails. Wire me at our Legation and our people will forward to me. Seriously, you might do many things worse. Your old friend,

Harper C. Denver.

N.B.—I’m not monkeying about the Pekin business. Come and meet me like the good fellow you are, and hang Wall Street.

H. C. D.

Chapter II—PRINCE KALKOV’S PROPOSITION

“YOU mean seriously that I am to impersonate His Majesty?”

“For this purpose, M. Denver, that is my serious meaning.”

“Well, it’s a most extraordinary proposition.”

“The occasion itself is quite an extraordinary one, of course. But I repeat, you will be doing His Majesty and his Ministers a service of extreme importance. I have asked you, of course, as I said before, only because I understand you deem yourself under a deep obligation to my master.”

“You heard us speaking to-night of the incident. I owe him probably my life, and certainly an escape from serious injuries. We Americans don’t go back on a call, and I admit it’s up to him to call now. But this is such an odd thing.”

“Think it over. It is a national characteristic of your countrymen to be prompt. Shall I return, say, in an hour?”

“Wait a minute, Prince,” I said as he rose, and pushing my chair back I took a few turns up and down the room.

We were in the apartments which had been assigned to me in the Palace, and the Prince had interrupted me as I was planning out my projected journey to Khiva. It was nearly midnight, and my maps and papers lay open on the table.

“I am quite at your disposal, M. Denver,” he replied courteously as he resumed his chair and watched me.

“Let me see that I’ve got the hang of the thing right,” I said after a while. “You say this man, Boreski, is really dangerous; but I thought you had a quick method of dealing with dangerous men in Russia.”

“It is not a case for ordinary methods, M. Denver, or I should not have come to you. I wish to deal with you with complete frankness, and have spoken unreservedly as to a personal friend of my master.”

“We shan’t pull very far together if you don’t.”

“To be candid, I am not sure what the man’s secret object is—presuming, that is, he has one. We know little of him beyond the fact that he is an adventurer and a musician of exceptional brilliance, and that the Duchess Stephanie has conceived a great—I suppose, I should say—fondness for him. She declares she will marry him—in defiance of the Emperor’s prohibition: a marriage of the kind being outside the pale of possibility, of course, owing to her relationship to the Imperial Family.”

“You think he’s after her money?”

“What other conclusion can one draw? The Duchess is twenty years older than he; she is the reverse of prepossessing in appearance; and he is young, handsome and certainly clever. Apart from other reasons the marriage would be a tragedy.”

“And then there are these papers?”

“And then there are these papers, as you say. She is entirely dominated by him, and there is no doubt she acted at his instigation and—well, purloined them and carried them to him.”

“He is certainly a daring fellow.”

“A daring scoundrel, unquestionably,” assented the Prince, accenting the “scoundrel.”

“But knowing this, why not have arrested him?”

“I thought I had made that clear. I tried it, but he met me too cleverly. Indeed, I believe he actually angled for the arrest.”

“Angled for it. How do you mean?”

“That he might get face to face with me and let me realize how far he could go, and would if pressed. It was then he told me of these papers, and that he had placed them in reliable hands to be given, if he were detained, to those who must of course never see them. Never, at any cost.”

I smiled at the frank avowal.

“They are very awkward, then?”

“They might mean even war with the Powers chiefly concerned. They are extremely confidential documents. You understand, of course, M. Denver, that in diplomacy, any more than in poker, we cannot always lay the cards on the table.”

“It was a fine bluff.”

“Too dangerous for me to see him,” returned the Prince with a smile, falling readily into the language of the pool room. “And the worst of it was he knew it and claimed the jack pot.”

“He’s a smart man. And his terms are?”

“Preposterous, absolutely; monstrous. The Imperial consent to his marriage; a special dowry of a million roubles; a patent of nobility; and a private interview with His Majesty. It was then I thought of you, His Majesty having told me you were coming here, and that you bore so striking a resemblance to him. I arranged the scene at the station this evening to test that.”

“And you wish me to go to this interview, fool the man, and get the papers?”

“Precisely. Counting upon your obligation to the Emperor, I have indeed fixed the interview for to-morrow.”

“The deuce you have. Isn’t that rather sharp work?”

“The matter does not admit of delay; but it is of course open to you to decline.”

“In which case?”

“I have not yet considered any alternative.”

His coolness staggered me. But he was keen enough to see that I rather enjoyed the prospect of the adventure.

“Now as to the risks?” I asked after a pause.

“I cannot even pretend to gauge them, M. Denver. I don’t think they should be considerable; but there is naturally the chance that the deception would be discovered. I don’t think it is probable. Those who are constantly with His Majesty would know you in a moment of course; but these people only see my master on public occasions, and, as you have had evidence, are quite ready to be deceived.”

“But the risk is there.”

“Unquestionably,” he assented. “The incident with the lady in the train which you described is, however, very promising. Still, as you say, the risk is there, and it is enough to make any ordinary man unwilling to run it.”

“You flatter me, Prince.”

“No, I try to judge you. An ordinary man would not be eager to rush off to Khiva. Besides, you are an American.”

The appeal to my vanity was put astutely.

“If I were discovered I should have to get out the best way I could?”

“There might be some little trouble, but I don’t think it would be really serious—to a man of resource, that is. You would be quite authorized to put the blame on me.”

“And if the deception were not discovered?”

“It would be a short interview, and you would at the worst have to postpone your departure for one day.”

“You don’t anticipate any treachery? No assassination business, for instance?”

“Boreski has too much at stake. He would lose everything—including his worthless life, of course. About the strongest guarantee for your safety that you could have.”

He put the amazing proposal bluntly and argued the case with as much coolness as if it had been little more than a simple conventional matter of almost everyday routine.

“You would naturally like to think it over,” he said, after I had paced the room a while in thought.

“You have told me everything?”

“Yes, I think so, except, perhaps, that, of course, I don’t for a moment believe Boreski made the proposition seriously.”

“Yet it’s an odd sort of joke, isn’t it?”

“I don’t mean that. I mean that no man in his senses would believe the Emperor would consent to his conditions for the interview—that my master should go to it absolutely unattended, that the place should be determined by Boreski and known to him alone, and that my master should meet a lady at the railway station, get into a strange carriage with her and be taken wherever they pleased to take him. Even in democratic countries monarchs don’t act like that.”

“Then what do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.

“That he intended to have his terms rejected in order that he might use the rejection to raise them. When I agreed—I only did so with you in my thoughts—I saw that his surprise amounted almost to embarrassment.”

“There’s this woman in it then, beside the Duchess Stephanie? Who is she?”

“I haven’t an idea—some accomplice no doubt.”

“Since the conditions are, as you say, so ridiculous, may he not be suspicious when we agree to them?”

“It is very possible. But on the other hand he knows that my master is as anxious as I am about those papers.”

“And he may think the Emperor would take the risk. I see. Well, I guess I’ll do it, Prince, but I should like to think it over.”

Prince Kalkov rose at once.

“Naturally. I need only say, monsieur, that you will be doing His Majesty and Russia a service which we shall not forget. Shall I have your decision in the morning?”

“To-night, if you’ll come back, say, in a couple of hours. You won’t find me asleep after all you’ve said.”

He smiled pleasantly, and as he went to the door, said—

“You are just the man I would have chosen for such a task, M. Denver.”

“That remains to be seen,” I replied; “but there’s just one more question, by the by. Which are the countries concerned in those papers?”

He paused and gave me a sharp swift look, which broke to a smile.

“Not the United States, monsieur, but European Powers.”

“That’s the assurance I wished,” said I, and then he went.

I had virtually made up my mind before the Prince left the room, and save for one consideration I should have consented right away. But I could not quite size up the Prince himself.

I was almost British in my distrust of certain classes of Russian officials. I had lived in Petersburg for some years as a boy, and my father, who was at the Embassy, had inculcated this prejudice.

I could never resist the feeling that they had some subtle undercurrent motive which made for duplicity; and I could not now shake myself free from the belief in regard to Prince Kalkov.

I had no tangible reason for it. He stood high in the confidence of the Czar; he had gone out of his way to make himself agreeable to me; he had treated me apparently with signal frankness; and had admitted the possible risks and complications of the very tangled business.

I had another slight qualm. My sympathies were rather with than against the man Boreski. I was not a Russian aristocrat; and from my American point of view I was disposed to admire the pluck of a man who was fighting single-handed against the powerful Russian Court, and giving that autocratic body a real bad time. His methods were not nice, but his adroit use of them was so smart that I could not help enjoying them. Whereas, if it came to a mere question of ethics, I couldn’t see that, taking into account the shady episode of the secret papers, either side had much pull over the other.

What really decided me was my old obligation to the Czar. My inclinations were all on the side of going in for the thing; and probably I gave more weight to that consideration than it deserved. But anyway I convinced myself that I could wipe out the old debt by doing what was asked of me, and when the Prince came back, I met him with the statement that if the details of the thing could be fixed, I was his man.

He was manifestly delighted.

“I cannot tell you what pleasure your decision gives me. We shall now circumvent him completely. This is Boreski,” and he handed me a photograph.

The man was certainly handsome and distinguished-looking. Dark as a raven, with large, deep-set, thoughtful eyes under straight brows, a broad ample forehead, straight nose, very shapely mouth with curved mobile lips, and a narrowing chin.

“A handsome fellow, and that’s the truth,” I said.

“So the Duchess thinks,” he returned drily, handing me her portrait.

“You said she was twenty years his senior. This is a young woman.”

“It was taken last year: a Court photograph,” and he smiled. “She’s all but fifty.”

“Love at fifty may be a very serious passion, Prince. Have you no scruples about blighting it? She might take it badly and pine away.”

“She might do much worse, monsieur, and marry that rascal.”

“Her fortune is her own, I presume?”

“She would forfeit much of it if she married without the Emperor’s consent. Boreski knows that well enough, and trades on it. I do not think we shall find him a really strong man. He has the whip hand of us for the moment through those stolen documents; but when we once get those, we shall be able to frighten him, I am convinced.”

“Ought I not to know the nature of the documents?”

“I have been expecting that question. Do you press it?”

“Not if it embarrasses you to answer. But how shall I know them when they are given up to me?”

“They are very confidential,” he said, his face wrinkling in perplexed thought. He paused, and then with a sigh added, very slowly, the words seeming to be wrung from him almost: “I suppose there is no other way. They affect Germany and Austria. They include a secret treaty with Austria and a number of plans of fortresses, and the army mobilization schemes, etc., of our neighbours.”

“I can understand your anxiety, Prince,” I said drily.

“They must be recovered, M. Denver, at any cost or sacrifice,” he answered with intense earnestness.

“I will do my best,” I replied, and then we turned to discuss the details of the project. He told me his arrangements, the chief of which was his scheme to secure my safety.

“I shall take exactly the same precautions as if you were His Majesty himself,” he said. “The carriage in which you travel will be followed; its description will be telephoned everywhere, so that it may be instantly recognized by our agents who to-morrow night will be stationed at the corner of every street of the capital. Within a minute of your entering the house, wherever it is, a large force will commence to converge upon it; and if there is any delay or treachery the place will be carried by force.”

“Isn’t that a breach of faith with Boreski?”

“Of course I gave him an official pledge the carriage should not be followed.”

“Official? Rather a nice distinction, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “One has to do these things officially.”

“You mean you have to give a pledge and—break it.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “We are dealing with a scoundrel.”

“Does that justify unclean methods?”

“Unclean?” He caught at the word angrily.

“I said unclean. Please understand me. I am neither a courtier nor a diplomat, but just a plain American citizen; and when we Americans pledge our word we keep it, whether it be given to an honest man or a rogue. This pledge of yours must be kept, Prince Kalkov.”

He grew excited for the first time, and gesticulated vehemently as he answered.

“It is impossible, impossible!” he cried. “You cannot appreciate the importance of those papers, M. Denver. Hitherto we have been unable to learn their whereabouts, but we know that to-morrow night they will be in the house to which Boreski will drive you; that is why this appointment is to be kept. And when we once know where they are, not this Boreski nor ten thousand Boreskis shall prevent my recovering them.”

This cast a somewhat fresh light on the thing, and annoyed me.

“Then you must get some one else to keep the appointment, Prince Kalkov,” I answered.

“But your promise,” he cried, angry and embarrassed.

“My promise was to play the part of the Emperor in the matter, and I’ll either be obeyed as Emperor or we’ll call it off, and I’ll remain plain Harper C. Denver. You can choose, right now.”

He sat gnawing his moustache in perplexity, and wanted to expostulate and argue the point.

“But——”

“There are no buts in this. You can call it off or on—but on my terms. You can choose.”

This was just what he did not wish to do, however.

“Your own safety——” he began again.

“You can leave that to me,” I cut in. “Is it to be on or off?” And I looked him fair and square in the eyes.

He gave a deep-drawn sigh, twisted his moustache ends, made as if to expostulate, but stopped on meeting my looks, and then with a shrug of the shoulders gave way.

“It’s an enormous responsibility, but if you insist I must yield.”

“Good; then we’ll be off to bed and leave the rest until to-morrow.”

He rose and gave me his hand.

“Good-night, M. Denver. You are a strong man,” he said.

“Good-night, Prince. We’ll talk about strength when the job’s finished. I’ll do my best, as I said.”

He paused by the door and turned.

“After all the whole thing is only tricking Boreski. I wish you’d let me do it my way.”

“It’s only a trick, of course; but the cards are on the table so far as the personation is concerned. I can’t give in to the rest.”

“As your Majesty pleases,” he returned with a slow smile as he left the room.

Chapter III—THE EMPEROR STARTS

I DID not leave my rooms on the following day, and passed the chief part of it preparing for the part I was to play in the evening, and discussing the details.

The Prince and I had several interviews, and his confidential attendant, a Frenchman named Pierre, waited on me. From him I had a number of hints as to little characteristics of the Emperor, gestures, movements, habits and so on, calculated to help out my rendering of the part.

We arranged that I should go in ordinary morning dress, and over this I was to wear a semi-military cloak borrowed from the Imperial wardrobe.

The papers I required were all prepared with scrupulous care. These were a patent of nobility making Boreski a Count—and I was instructed how to perform the little ceremony of investing him with it; a written consent to his marriage with the Duchess Stephanie; and a draft upon the Imperial Treasury for the sum of a million roubles.

“The draft is post dated, as you see,” said the Prince, “as the money is intended for the Duchess’s dowry, and is not payable until the marriage. You can explain this.”

“He’ll probably look for the money down,” I objected at once.

“He is dealing with an Emperor who would not break faith with him,” returned the Prince with a grim smile reminiscent of our previous night’s discussion.

“If these papers are so valuable, why not give the money at once and let me take it in bank notes?”

“When we have the papers we can deal with him for a tenth part of the sum. A million, indeed!”

“If your economic instincts lead to trouble, don’t blame me,” I returned a little sharply. “I repeat I think you should send notes.”

“Your Majesty can promise him anything. If he raises any difficulty he can come to me,” he added.

“There is nothing else I have to take?”

“Nothing except this ring of the Emperor’s. You had better wear it, as it is well known; and perhaps had better take a revolver, although I don’t think you will have any trouble calling for one.”

“One never knows,” said I, and decided to take his advice.

“You will, of course, be cautious not to attempt a word of Russian. Your accent would betray you in a moment. You can use French with absolute safety, as His Majesty’s unfortunate preference for that language is well known. That is most important.”

“I’m not likely to forget. I can understand everything in Russian, but I know my limitations.”

“Then I will go and get ready to accompany you on the first part of the journey to the rendezvous at the Square of St. Peter.”

Now that the time was so close I was a good deal excited and impatient for the curtain to go up.

“You have His Majesty’s figure and walk remarkably, m’sieur,” said the Prince’s man watching me closely. “From behind I myself should be deceived even at so short a distance and in so good a light as this. It is wonderful.”

“Unfortunately I can’t keep my back turned to people all the time.”

“That is true, m’sieur; but then it is always safer to turn the face to—dangers, is it not?” He put so much emphasis on the word that I turned and looked at him.

“You think a good deal of the dangers, then, Pierre?”

“There is always danger in this Russia;” and he grimaced to show his French dislike of it.

“Yet you stay here.”

“I am only a valet, m’sieur, they pass over my head. But I have been fifteen years in the country and have seen many strange things.”

“If the Emperor were really going on this business, you think he would run big risks?”

“It may be different with you, m’sieur; you may be discovered in time. But if it were the Emperor, I should rub my hands with pleasure to see him return.”

“You take a cheerful view of things, Pierre. I expect you have a liver that troubles you.”

He threw up his hands and shoulders.

“Americans and English are the same and like mad risks. But I would not do this—no, not for the crown of Russia. I know what I know.”

“And I do it for the love of the thing, and I suppose that’s about the difference between us.”

“Monsieur is monsieur,” he replied with a comical, lachrymose air. “But you will need to be very cautious. You have friends in Petersburg, probably?”

“No, indeed. No one knows of my presence here.”

“That is strange—but perhaps—convenient. You would not be missed.”

“No, not by a soul except here in the Palace.”

He smiled mysteriously.

“If you are discovered, m’sieur, I should not let that fact be known. I should speak of many. A friendless man may be a helpless one.”

“You have a pleasant imagination, Pierre.”

“Russia is not France, m’sieur, nor America,” he replied, cryptically, with so lugubrious an air that I smiled.

It was not a cheerful send-off, and in the carriage I told old Kalkov what his man had said.

“Pierre is a good valet but a fool,” he answered with a grunt. “He had his nerves twisted once in a Nihilist row, and ever since has seen a Nihilist conspiracy in every trouble.”

“You don’t take these conspiracies seriously?”

“As a rule, no; occasionally they are dangerous of course; but generally little more than froth and wind—mere political dyspepsia from the soured stomach of sectional discontent.”

“Is this Boreski a Nihilist?”

“Possibly. It is always possible. But I think not. We shall know much more when you return.”

“If I do return, that is.”

“Naturally;” and he smiled, not pleasantly.

I began to think how the cat must have felt when she had burnt her foot in drawing the chestnuts out of the fire and saw the monkey enjoying them. But it was too late to retreat now, even if I had been so minded. The Prince felt something of this, I fancy, for he gave me the opportunity.

“If you have any fear, M. Denver, and wish to draw back, we can return to the Palace.”

“Not on any account.”

“I want you to feel, whatever happens, that you have gone into the thing quite voluntarily. I wish to feel that too.”

“I shall see it through, Prince.”

“Spoken like an American,” he replied promptly, and a minute afterwards the carriage stopped. “We have arrived.”

We got out on the north side of a large square and looked about for the other carriage. None was in sight, but a hooded automobile stood in the shadow on the opposite side.

“Can that be it?” I asked the Prince.

“It would be very easily traced,” he said.

“But not so easily followed. There is no other and we are already a few minutes behind time.”

“We can cross and see.”

His face was full of doubt.

“I had better go alone,” I replied, detaining him.

“As you will. God send you may be successful for the sake of Russia.”

His tone was intensely earnest, and with the words ringing in my ears I swung off into the road in the direction of the autocar, and when I turned once I saw him watching me intently and eagerly.

Now that the moment for action had really come, I was as cool as I could have wished. I took a mental note of everything and I was careful to assume so far as possible the swinging stride of the man I was personating.

As I neared the car a man stepped from inside it and touched his cap.

“Who is your master?” I asked, putting all the authority I could into my manner, and staring hard at the man. He was dressed like a chauffeur, and save for his black beard and moustache his face was almost hidden by the peak of his cap and a pair of hideous driving goggles.

“M. Boreski, m’sieur.” His French was that of an educated man, I thought.

“What are your instructions?”

“We are waiting for some one from the Palace, m’sieur.” The “we” struck me as peculiar. I stopped by the car and looked harder at him.

“You speak French with a good accent, my man,” I said, with some suspicion in my tone, and then the unexpected happened.

A girl, closely veiled, put her head out from the hood which covered the back seat, and with a dash of contempt said—

“The American will scarcely be afraid to trust himself with a woman.”

I gave a start of genuine pleasure. It was the girl who had spoken to me on the train.

“With you, mademoiselle, I would trust myself anywhere;” and without hesitation I took the seat by her side.

The chauffeur got into his place and we were off at a smart pace into the darkness.

I looked back at old Kalkov and waved my hand to him, and as we whirled round the corner out of the square he drew himself up and gave me a military salute.

If I had any doubts before, they vanished the moment I was by the side of the girl. The adventure had taken just the turn I could have wished; and come what might, I was resolved to have a good time.

“That was Prince Kalkov, your Majesty?” she asked, speaking in Russian. I answered in French.

“Yes, my very faithful old friend and counsellor to whose planning I owe this—this excursion, shall we call it?”

“Your Majesty is——”

“Wait, please. This is a very unusual matter. I make one condition at the outset. My incognito must be strictly maintained by every one—by every one, if you please. I am not the Emperor, but as I told you yesterday, an American. My name is Harper C. Denver. I do not even speak the Russian language, although I can understand it, and I am travelling in Russia for pleasure.”

She was undeniably as smart as she was pretty. She listened to me intently, and she asked in English.

“You speak and understand English then perfectly.”

It was a pretty trap, but I was not to be drawn, so I replied in French—

“An American must necessarily speak his own language, mademoiselle;” and at that she laughed softly.

“You are doubtless staying at the Hotel Imperial, the favourite hotel with Americans?”

“No, I am staying at the Palace with my friend the Emperor;” a truth which sounded so ridiculous that she laughed again.

“We will be careful that a friend of our Emperor has his wishes regarded so far as possible.”

We rode some distance after that without speaking until I broke the silence.

“There are three questions I should like to ask, mademoiselle. Have I your permission?”

“I cannot pledge myself to answer them, m’sieur.”

“Where are we going?”

“That will depend upon whether you have kept faith with M. Boreski.”

“In what way?”

“Are we being followed?”

“I gave express orders to the contrary.”

“An American citizen can give orders to the police in Russia then, m’sieur,” she put in.

“Under certain circumstances an American citizen can be master of the situation,” I replied equivocally and with more truth than she could have any idea of. “Will you answer my question?”

“About ten miles, if all goes well—if your orders have been obeyed, that is. We shall soon know.”

“You shall have any proof I can give you of my good faith in this respect. How shall we know?”

She appeared to think for a few moments, then turned and looked at me through her veil.

“If you mean that, there will be no difficulty.”

“I give you my word of honour. Let me put my second question. Do you pledge yourself, you mademoiselle, personally, for my safety?”

“Unconditionally, and so will M. Boreski.”

“I don’t care about him. It is to you I trust.”

I felt her start and her voice was unsteady as she replied—

“On my honour, your Majesty shall not regret that confidence.”

“Then I will do anything and everything you ask. I put myself absolutely in your hands.”

She rose then and spoke to the chauffeur.

“M. Boreski says your spies are dogging us and that the streets are alive with them.”

“That is M. Boreski?” I asked indicating the chauffeur.