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IN THE PRESENCE OF THE CZAR

I had been in St. Petersburg less than an hour and was still pondering over the uncertainty of what first to do in order to begin the difficult task that I had set for myself, when I was startled by a sharp summons at my door.

It opened before I could respond, and a total stranger entered the room. That he was an officer of that mysterious force known as the Russian Secret Police I had not a doubt, but I greeted him courteously, pretending not to see that there were others with him, who waited in the hallway.

"I believe I have the honor of addressing Mr. Derrington," he said in perfect English, making use of my true name which however, was not the one mentioned in my passports, for I had crossed the border under the name of Smith. I bowed and indicated a chair which he declined with a wave of his hand but with a smile that was as genial as his face was masterful and handsome. "Perhaps you prefer to be called Mr. Smith," he continued. "It is, I understand, the name that is mentioned in your papers."

"For the present, yes," I replied.

"I regret that I am compelled to place you under arrest, Mr. Smith, but such is my unfortunate duty. You will have to take a short drive with me. I hope that you will not be detained beyond your patience. Take your wraps, and we will go at once if you please."

"Certainly. Shall I leave the keys to my baggage here?" I knew Russia and I did not protest.

"Thank you, yes; it will simplify matters. I have friends here who will take charge of your rooms until you return, or——" He did not finish the sentence but that inimitable smile shone upon me again and somewhat assured me, in spite of the fact that my perfect knowledge of Russian affairs rendered me thoroughly aware of my peril.

We were presently in the street and driving rapidly away; whither, I did not know, for my companion pulled down the curtains so that I could see nothing of the scenes through which we were passing. I tried to keep note in my mind of the turns we made, and to remember the streets we traversed, but it was useless and I was convinced that my conductors were purposely confusing me. This conviction forced upon me another; that my escort, or the people who had sent him to me, were informed regarding my past, and had somehow learned that I knew St. Petersburg as well as they did.

During the drive which lasted nearly an hour we remained perfectly silent. I knew how utterly useless it would be to question the man at my side, and he volunteered not a word. Presently the pace was increased until the horses were on a run through the streets; then suddenly we flew around a corner at breakneck speed and stopped so abruptly that I was thrown forward on my face in spite of the robes in which I was swaddled. At the same moment I heard a gate clang shut behind us and was respectfully bidden to alight.

Night had just fallen when we left the hotel, and in the grim courtyard where I found myself after the ride there was nothing discernible save the shadowy forms of my abductors, the champing, foam-flecked horses, and the somber walls of a huge building which loomed up on three sides of me. I had very little time for thought, for my companion took me familiarly by one arm and led me forward until we passed through a door which I did not see until it swung open before us. Then it closed as silently and as magically as it had opened, and I was led onward through darkness that was absolute, through corridors and rooms, at last emerging upon a dimly lighted hall, which seemed almost brilliant by comparison. There we paused and waited.

"This does not seem like a prison," I said.

"No; but it has often led to one," he replied grimly. "One word of advice to you before we proceed."

"I shall appreciate it. Heaven knows I need it."

"Do not on any account ask a single question during the experiences of the next half hour. Forget that there is such a thing as an interrogation. Perhaps, if you heed what I say, I may have the pleasure of riding back to your hotel with you."

I did not have time to reply, for a door opened and we started forward again, passing from room to room, each better lighted than the last, until finally we entered one that was occupied. A man—a very large man—was seated at a desk, and he raised his eyes as we entered his presence. Never in my life was I so astonished as at that moment for I recognized him at a glance.

I was in the presence of the czar.

There was a very good reason for my astonishment. I had gone to St. Petersburg in the hope of obtaining an audience with the Emperor of all the Russias, but I had anticipated some difficulty in securing it, nor did I even wish for it in such a forcible and unsought manner. It was because I desired to keep the object of my visit a close secret that I had travelled incognito, and as I had imparted my secret to no living human being, I was naturally astounded that my object should be so quickly attained. A mental question shot through me in that instant when I realized where I was: In what manner could any person have learned of the true reason for my visit? and if it had not been learned and transmitted to the czar, why was I conducted to the august presence? At the same instant I comprehended that it would be the best policy for me to appear not to know in whose presence I was, so I simply inclined my head in the coldest bow I could master.

"You speak Russian?" he demanded imperiously, advancing a step towards me.

"Perfectly," I replied.

"Your name!"

"Daniel Derrington." I purposely made my reply as curt as his question, and I saw the shadow of a smile flit across his features. I knew then that I had taken the right course with him.

"What is your nationality?"

"I am an American."

"Do you know who I am?"

"I do, your majesty." This time I bowed with more show of ceremony, but he waved his hand commandingly, and in a voice much softer than he had used before, went on:

"Forget that you do know. It is more than likely that we will have many interviews of this kind and I wish them all to be on the plane of equals. That, I believe, is a condition which will come quite naturally to an American although it would be utterly impossible to a European. Are you as well acquainted with the identity of your companion?"

"I regret to say that I am not," I replied, relapsing into my former manner.

"Then permit me to introduce you. Mr. Derrington, the Prince Michael Michaelovitch Gortshakoff. And now that you know each other, we will proceed. But first, be seated."

My business during several years had taken me into astonishing situations, but never into one so astounding as this. I racked my brain in wondering what it could portend; in conjecturing if it were real, or if it were only the "hearty meal before the execution." I longed to ask a few questions, but remembering the advice that had been given me just before entering the room, I refrained.

"You will be surprised to learn that I am entirely aware of the object of your presence in Russia," continued his majesty, "for unless I am mistaken you believed your errand to be an inviolate secret. Is that true?"

"Quite true."

"And yet it is known to me. The best proof of that is that you are here."

I bowed.

"I knew a few hours after you left your own country, that you had started. I was fully acquainted with your mission. My eyes, or the eyes of those who are in my confidence, have not been off you one moment since you arrived in Europe. They followed you to Paris, across Germany, and even into the hotel where our friend called upon you and where you are known as Mr. Smith." He paused an instant, and turning to the prince, added: "Tell him the prospective fate of Mr. Smith, prince."

"Siberia," came the reply in one word, uttered calmly and coldly.

"Siberia?" I repeated after him, and shrugged my shoulders; and the czar added:

"Siberia."