Читать книгу The Ostrekoff Jewels - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 9

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Haven, during those few minutes of waiting, although he knew very well that he was on the brink of a new danger, felt to a larger extent than at any moment since he had left Petrograd the joyous thrill of this new life of adventure. This was better by far than the day-by-day drudgery at the Embassy, or the horrors of those last few weeks in Petrograd, when one could do nothing but look on at other people's sufferings. He felt his senses alert, his mind active. Early in life, but with amazing completeness, he had become his own master. If he was called upon to face danger, it was for his brain to appraise it. If there was to be fighting—well, he was a stronger man than the average. A skilful boxer, he had a weapon which he had learnt to use without compunction, and behind him were Alexis, Paul and Ivan. He awaited his visitor with little apprehension, almost in fact with pleasant anticipation.

The knock at the door came at last. There followed a faint click and the panel rolled back. A thin, dark man, clad in the uniform of a Polish cavalry regiment, entered the room, followed by Alexis. Wilfred Haven rose to his feet and the other approached with outstretched hand.

"You are Mr. Haven," he said, "late of the American Embassy at Petrograd? I am Colonel Patinsky. At your service."

"Very glad to meet you," Haven replied, pointing to a chair. "Won't you sit down?"

"You are very kind."

Perhaps it was the accident of Alexis' lingering in the background for a few moments and finding some trouble with the catch of the door as he pushed it into its place which was the real cause of the brief silence which ensued. The two men seemed to be taking careful stock of each other during an interlude which, to Haven at any rate, was full of poignant and dramatic significance. The success of his mission which, even in this brief space of time, had already grown to be the one vital thing in his life, might very well rest in the hands of this visitor. Patinsky, for his part almost as deeply, though with far more selfish interest, was studying this powerfully built, somewhat ingenuous looking American with cautious and speculative eyes beneath a mask of courteous interest.

"We have to thank you, I hear, Colonel, for driving off that mob of revolutionaries," Haven observed. "But for you, I think they meant to sack the place, rob us of our supplies and drive us out into the snow."

"You owe me no thanks at all," Patinsky replied in grave and measured English. "We are on Polish soil. It was my duty. Besides, any friend or protégé of my late friend, Prince Ostrekoff, is welcome to any aid I can offer. I have enjoyed the Prince's hospitality more than once under this roof. You will permit me?"

He rose, unbuckled his sword, loosened his belt and reseated himself with a little murmur of relief. There was certainly nothing sinister, Haven decided, in the man's appearance. He was unusually pale for a soldier who, presumably, led an outdoor life, and his dark eyes were more the eyes of a poet than of a cavalry commander. His mouth was a trifle small and lacked strength, and but for his carefully trimmed, military moustache and a gash on one cheek, apparently only recently healed, his general appearance was almost feminine.

"They are bringing us something to drink, I hope, directly," Haven remarked.

Patinsky bowed.

"It will give me great pleasure," he said, "to drink a glass of wine with an American. I should tell you that I have been in New York myself."

Once more the panel rumbled back and Alexis made discreet entrance. He carried a large tray and arranged silently upon the table a bottle of red wine, a flask of vodka, some Scotch whisky, water and glasses. There was a faint gleam of uneasiness in Patinsky's eyes as he watched him.

"The Little Master has further orders?" Alexis enquired.

Haven shook his head. The panel door rumbled back into its place. In less than a minute the ranger's heavy footsteps were perambulating the terrace outside.

The two men both drank whisky. Patinsky, to his host's astonishment, filled his own tumbler three quarters full, then added a little water.

"The habit of whisky," he explained, "I acquired in England. For three years I was there to learn the language."

"You speak it all right," Haven observed.

"I speak it very good," was the self-satisfied reply.

There was a momentary pause. Patinsky's eyes seemed to be wandering round the little apartment, as though taking note of its possibilities.

"What lucky chance brought you this way?" Haven enquired.

Patinsky smiled gently.

"We are under orders to patrol the frontier," he pointed out. "Raids of this character were to be expected. This mob of revolutionaries, who seem for the moment to have gained the upper hand in Russia, care nothing about the frontiers or," he added, after a moment's significant pause, "about diplomatic privileges."

"So I have already discovered," Haven commented.

"You will not object," Patinsky went on courteously, "to a few questions which I must ask in my official capacity?"

"Not in the least. Go right ahead," the other invited.

"One is permitted to enquire, then, the reason why you, the official representative of a country friendly to our own, were forced to leave the train at the frontier and take refuge here, instead of pursuing your journey in peace?"

Haven stretched out his hand, took a cigarette from the box, tapped it upon the table and lit it.

"The station," he confided, "was in the hands of a crazy mob. They were all blood-red Communists of the worst type. Possibly they believed I had documents incriminating some of their leaders in Petrograd in my despatch box. At any rate, they wanted to search it."

"I see," Patinsky murmured, in his silky voice. "And sooner than gratify their curiosity you made, I understand, a dramatic escape from the station."

"You might call it so," Haven assented.

"With the help of His Highness' amazing bodyguard," Patinsky continued meditatively.

"That is so."

"You were a great friend of Ostrekoff's, one gathers?"

"During my stay in Petrograd," Haven explained, "no one showed me more kindness or hospitality. It happened that a few hours before my departure I was able to be of some service to him. For that reason he wished to ensure my safe transit."

Patinsky leaned back in his chair. He had drunk quite half of his tumbler of whisky without the access of the slightest tinge of colour into his pallid cheeks. He lit a cigarette and gazed thoughtfully into the cloud of smoke.

"I am interested in that frontier incident," he observed. "The mob might naturally imagine, or their leaders might imagine, that you were bringing away papers of great importance in the satchels they wished to search. Knowing you to be a protégé and a close friend of the Prince's, they might even go so far as to imagine that you had stretched the bounds of diplomatic privileges and were taking Royalist property or communications out of the city."

"I have no means of knowing what was in their thoughts," Haven replied coldly. "I only know that they were a damned unpleasant crowd."

A somewhat curious silence reigned for a few minutes. From the stove upon the hearth came the roar and the sizzle of the pine logs and the occasional howling of the wind down the huge chimney. Alexis' footsteps upon the terrace were as monotonous as the ticking of a clock. There was no other sound. Each of the two men suddenly realised that he was being watched by the other. Patinsky, with a little start, leaned forward and poured more whisky into his glass.

"Our huge friend outside," he remarked, "seems to guard you as zealously as he did his master."

Haven shrugged his shoulders.

"The Prince placed me under his protection," he explained. "A very faithful fellow, I should think."

"He may," Patinsky reflected, "have reasons for his fidelity. You would perhaps be surprised to know," he went on, "that there were very definite rumours down the line. It was, in fact, openly stated that you were taking out of the country property belonging to Ostrekoff."

"An absurd rumour," Haven observed. "We're not allowed to use our privileges in that way."

"One might claim that these were exceptional times," Patinsky pointed out, "and that diplomatic relations between your country and a country which had ceased to exist were of no particular account."

"And then?"

Patinsky shrugged his shoulders.

"There are still many miles of wild country to traverse before you could call yourself in safety. If it were true that you were in such a position, you would do well to make friends with those whom chance has placed in the position of being able to defend you."

Haven followed his companion's example and helped himself, only much more moderately, to whisky.

"I'm not in particular need of help," he declared. "I am in a friendly, I might almost say an allied country. In Warsaw I shall be in touch with the whole civilised world."

"It may be true," Patinsky admitted, "that you are in a friendly country—politically—but there is this unfortunate circumstance to be reckoned with. You are in a very wild strip of it. Nobody knows where you are. Anything might happen to you and no one would know for certain where it happened—or who was responsible."

Haven looked steadily at his visitor through the light mist of tobacco smoke and his right hand stole downwards.

"Are you threatening me?" he asked.

Patinsky shrugged his shoulders.

"I should not put it like that," he objected, and his voice had become soft and gentle as a woman's. "I am not threatening you, Mr. Wilfred Haven. Such is not my intention at all. I would remind you, though, that in the event of any little discussion between us, I have at my back a company of well-trained and disciplined soldiers."

"What of it?"

"Simply that if I deemed it my duty to make you a prisoner you would not be able to resist."

"On what charge would you make me a prisoner?" Haven enquired. "I am an American citizen with an American passport and carrying American despatches."

Patinsky smiled very amiably.

"How well it sounds," he observed. "But if those despatches, my friend, instead of being letters and documents, should turn out to be jewels of priceless value—the Ostrekoff jewels, for instance—being conveyed—very improperly conveyed, by the by—to a place of safety on behalf of your late friend, Prince Ostrekoff, then your position becomes a little more—I think your word is—assailable."

The man's smoothness irritated Haven and for the moment he lost his self-control.

"What the hell business is it of yours?" he asked.

Patinsky's long and elegant fingers toyed with his moustache.

"The question is bluntly put," he complained, "but I will reply to it. A few years ago I was a guest in this shooting lodge for purposes of sport. We played cards and there was a debt owing to me. The Prince has never paid."

"Do you expect me to believe a story like that?" Haven demanded angrily.

"Does it matter very much whether you believe it or not?" was the equable reply. "You are here in charge of property belonging to the late Prince. I am sure that he would be delighted to hear that his debt has been paid. You are in this place, as I remarked, practically alone. I am here with a company of fully armed soldiers who would lay down their lives for me. You get my point, Mr. Wilfred Haven?"

"You've been a long time coming to it."

"There seemed no necessity for haste, as we are not likely to be disturbed," Patinsky pointed out. "I will accept as a full discharge of the Prince's liability to me the contents of the despatch satchel which you were carrying chained to your wrist, returning to you any papers or documents with which the American Government is concerned. How does that proposition sound to you?"

"Rotten," was Haven's brief comment.

Patinsky rose to his feet. He had been clever enough all the time to keep the advantage. His fingers were nearer to his holster now than Haven's to his hip pocket. His sword too was within a few inches of his fingers.

"Then I will put the matter before you so that only a dolt could fail to understand it," he said, and this time there was an open sneer in his tone. "You are trying to take the Ostrekoff jewels across to London or Paris. I am here to stop you doing it—I and my soldiers."

"If you or any one belonging to you dare to touch bags with the Embassy seal upon them, you'll be looking for trouble," Haven threatened him.

Patinsky waved his words away.

"Do not be foolish," he begged. "These are days of war. Behind you are the red fires of revolution. You are almost within sound of the German guns. Who cares what is done in such a spot? And who will there be, young man, if you should prove foolish, to bring the crime home to anybody?"

"The idea is to kill me and make a clean job of it, then?" Haven observed.

"I shall certainly kill you," Patinsky agreed, "rather than allow you to leave this place with the jewels. Be sensible. Sit down and drink with me. Open the bag and let us look at them. I have a weakness for jewels. If ever there was a tradesman in my family I think that he must have been a jeweller."

Haven reflected for a brief space of time. At the moment, Patinsky had the advantage of him. The latter's left hand was on the butt of some sort of pistol or revolver and he had also his short cavalry sabre. Haven's own automatic was uneasily resting in his pocket and he was utterly unused to a quick draw. He threw himself back in his chair and, abandoning any attempt at reaching his gun, poured himself out more whisky and filled the other's glass.

"How am I to know," he complained, "whether that cock-and-bull story of yours about a gambling debt is true?"

Patinsky drew a revolver of old-fashioned type from his holster, leaned forward in his chair and laid it upon his knee. His sword also he drew from its scabbard and left leaning against the chair. He poured a few tablespoonfuls of water into the glass which Haven had already filled almost to the brim with whisky.

"You come from a very uncultured people, Mr. Haven," he said calmly, "and you have not yet learned the language which prevails in circles higher than your own. One does not speak of a 'cock-and-bull story,' whatever that may mean, to an officer bearing arms, nor, if one values one's life, does one accuse him of having told a falsehood."

Haven glowered at the speaker across those few feet of space.

"I don't need you to give me lessons," he muttered sullenly. "I wonder what really did take place when you were here on that hunting trip?"

For the first time Patinsky showed signs of some slight emotion. A small spot of colour stole into his cheeks and there was a hard glitter in his eyes.

"I have told you," he said, "that, when I left, the Prince owed me money which he has never yet paid."

"There wasn't a little matter of cheating, was there?" Haven asked with an ugly sneer.

The effect of the latter's words and tone was exactly what he had hoped. Patinsky sprang forward from his chair and in a second the younger man was upon him. Out of reach of his weapons, Patinsky was little more than a child in Haven's grip. The latter held his wrists together with one hand and, with the other upon the back of his neck, pushed him towards the window. From there he summoned Alexis, who entered the room with a look of dismay as he saw Patinsky writhing and squirming in the "Little Master's" grasp.

"I couldn't help it, Alexis," Haven declared. "He was after us, all right. He says that the Prince owes him money."

"The lie should have choked him," Alexis thundered. "Still, one must reflect! In a few seconds he will be dead—if Little Master is not careful."

Haven relaxed his grip on his antagonist's neck. There was a dark shadow on Patinsky's face, his breath came in short gasps.

"You shall be shot for this," he faltered. "Shot before you leave this place."

Haven laughed scornfully, but Alexis was still looking worried.

"What are we going to do with him?" the former asked.

Patinsky's eyes were fixed longingly upon his revolver.

"Let me go," he gurgled.

They dragged him to a chair. Haven brought him whisky, which he drank greedily. He was obviously incapable of moving. Alexis, with a deep sigh, went to a cupboard and returned, bearing a roll of cord. With perfectly amazing skill and swiftness he tied up the half-unconscious man and, carrying him under his arm, crossed to the distant wall. Here he lifted a picture and touched a spring which formed part of the design of the old wall paper behind. Another panel opened slowly and a small apartment was disclosed. Alexis laid his burden gently down inside, closed the door and replaced the picture.

"I go now," he announced, "to summon Paul and Ivan. This is more serious than anything which could have happened to us on the other side of the frontier."

"It couldn't have been helped," Haven insisted. "I almost wish I'd killed him outright."

"We must leave here at once," Alexis continued gravely. "There are half a dozen officers drinking in the dining room. They were talking of coming to see Patinsky. They are not like him; they are brave enough. There are over a hundred soldiers too, all well disciplined—Patinsky's men. Things are not very pleasant, American Master. Patinsky would murder any one for a tenth part of what you are carrying."

"Let's get away then before they find him," Haven suggested.

"It is arranged," Alexis replied. "When I saw the Colonel Patinsky I feared that this might happen. To the bottom of the avenue, Little Master, as quickly as you can. Ivan sits in the car and the engine beats all the time. I must fetch Paul, for we too shall travel."

"Where to?" Haven asked.

"There is only one road," Alexis answered.