AT THE MEETING
ONE by one the Red agents had assembled at their meeting place. They had been scrutinized and admitted by Prokop.
To-night he had questioned none of them. He was anxious to begin the meeting. He had been particularly pleased when Fritz Bloch had appeared.
When all had gathered in the large room, Prokop entered and stood before them. He surveyed the entire group. Then he began to speak.
“Comrades,” he said, “I have important news to give you. One of our number has sought to betray us. What is the answer?”
“Death!” came a hiss from the group of dark-robed agents. “Death!”
“Death is the verdict,” repeated Prokop. “We shall act as one. Any who may encounter the betrayer must strike. Is it agreed?”
“Agreed!” came the murmur of voices.
“This agent is a woman,” continued Prokop. “Her name is Arlette DeLand. Seek her out. She must die. I shall show her picture to each of you as you leave.”
A low murmur ran through the group; it died away immediately. Prokop held up his hand for silence.
“There is work for one of us,” he said. “Great work. One of our number shall strike a glorious blow for our cause. To-morrow night, two men meet. One of them I shall not name — save to mention that he is an enemy to our cause. He intends to meet our archenemy, Prince Zuvor.”
An angry rumble surged through the crowd.
“Death!” hissed a voice, and another repeated the cry.
“Silence,” ordered Prokop. “I have chosen one man as best suited for this work.
“Some of you have watched Prince Zuvor. This one has constantly been on guard. He has served for months as Zuvor’s servant. His ears have been stung with remarks that he has heard — remarks belittling our cause.
“He has done much for us. Through him we have discovered many facts pertaining to Prince Zuvor. So to this man I give the privilege of destroying three enemies: Prince Zuvor, his friend; and his Royalist servant, Ivan Shiskin.”
There was an impressive silence. Then:
“Agent K. Step forward.”
For a moment no one responded. Then there was a stir, and a hooded figure advanced slowly toward Prokop.
The leader of the Reds conducted him to the end of the room. There he lifted a spherical object from a box. He carried the object carefully, and showed it beneath the light.
“This bomb,” he said, “is of our newest pattern. When the dial is set, and the clockwork is put in motion, it will explode at the exact minute.
“You will use it to-morrow night, Comrade K. Use it for our cause. Destroy our enemy — your enemy — Prince Zuvor!”
THE man designated as Agent K received the bomb. Prokop explained the mechanism, in a matter-of-fact manner, as though taking it for granted that the agent understood.
Then he let the man join the others, while he proceeded with another announcement.
“A great victory has been won for our cause,” he said. “I cannot tell you its exact nature; but among us are those who worked long. They are here to-night, after a long absence.
“I welcome them, in the name of the cause. Before this week is ended, our leaders in Russia will have plans that will enable them to defeat their enemies in aerial warfare.”
This news was received with acclamation, whispered remarks expressing the sentiments of the group.
Then Prokop spoke his final words.
“Remember, Agent K,” he said, singling out that individual. “You must not fail. Should you fail, others will carry out your work. If you fear that you may fail, say so now.
“You are the one that I have chosen. I rely on you to destroy the enemies to the cause which you represent.
“Remember: Destroy, even though it may mean your own life. We are willing to die for our cause.”
“We are willing to die,” responded the members of the group.
The man who held the bomb stood motionless. The others crowded about him for a few minutes, while they looked at the piece of mechanism in his hands.
A brain was working within the black hood which Ivan Shiskin wore. It was groping for the truth, and its efforts were only partly successful.
It had taken Ivan a while to realize that he was in the midst of Red Agents. When he had fully understood that fact, he had been suddenly summoned, and the bomb had been placed in his possession.
This was where his master came, when he left his home disguised as Fritz Bloch! For months, Ivan had aided Prince Zuvor to disguise himself.
He had wondered why his master had been able to leave the house in safety under that disguise, while the house was being so closely watched.
It never occurred to his loyal mind that Prince Zuvor could be one of these. He was sure that he understood the exact circumstances. His master had been spying on these Reds, through clever use of the disguise.
He had told them that he was a servant of the Russian prince. They had believed him.
Ivan was filled with admiration for his master.
But why had he been sent to-night? Prince Zuvor could have come himself. What were the last words that the prince had told him?
“Go, in the name of the czar!”
That sentence kept repeating itself over and over in his mind; then it became identified with a statement made by the leader of this gang.
“We are willing to die for our cause.”
HIS cause was greater than theirs! To Ivan, the name of the czar meant more than life. He began to believe that Prince Zuvor had sent him here for a great purpose.
His master had been different to-night. He had himself enabled Ivan to arrange his disguise. Princely hands had formed the features of the mythical Fritz Bloch upon the countenance of a Russian servant.
In all his thoughts, Ivan exaggerated.
He did not know that it was not his master who had sent him here, but another, a pretended Prince Zuvor.
He did not realize that the purpose of his mission was simply to bring back the bomb, that it might be obtained as evidence against the Reds.
All that his brain could grasp was that these men had threatened the death of Prince Zuvor; that he had been delegated to that task; that if he failed, others would assume the duty.
His loyalty to Prince Zuvor; his mission in the name of the czar. These beliefs dominated Ivan’s mind.
He suddenly realized that he was standing alone; that the members of the group had drawn apart. The meeting would soon be over.
It was then that Ivan Shiskin sprang to mental action. Slowly and deliberately, he turned toward the wall, and adjusted the dial on the bomb.
He put the mechanism in motion. He glanced up, and noted that the leader was turning to leave the room. Ivan made one more adjustment of the dial, and with a cry of triumph he flung the bomb toward the door.
The heavy object struck the floor. The bomb exploded instantly. The walls shook, and the house collapsed. The cellar was filled with a mass of smoke. All who stood there were buried in the debris.
Not one of the Red agents survived the horrible catastrophe. They died, still clad in the robes that concealed their identities. Most of them were killed instantly.
Ivan Shiskin had gone — gone in the service of the czar! He had died to save his master, Prince Zuvor, in whom he believed, and to whom he was loyal. He was willing to die for his cause, and in dying, he brought his enemies to their doom.