 Chapter 18 of The Czar's Spies The Czar's Spies by William LeCue Chapter 18 Contains Elma's Story Before me stood my love, a slim, tragic, rather wand figure in a heavy dark traveling coat and felt toke, her sweet lips parted, and a look of bewildered amazement upon her countenance as I burst in so suddenly upon her. In silence I grasped her tiny black-bloved hand, and then also in silence raised it passionately to my eager lips. Her soft, dark eyes, those eyes that spoke although she was mute, met mine and in them was a look that I had never seen there before, a look which as plainly as any words told me that my wild fevered passion was reciprocated. She gazed beyond into the room where the others had assembled and then looked at me inquiringly, whereupon I led her forward to where they were, and Muriel fell upon her and kissed her with tears streaming from her eyes. I prepared this surprise for you, Mr. Gregg, Muriel said, laughing through her tears of joy. Alinto learnt that she was on her way to London, and I sent him to meet her. The princess has managed magnificently. Has she not? Yes, thank God she is free, I explained, but we must induce her to tell us everything. Muriel was already helping my love out of her heavy Russian coat. A costly garment lined with sable, and when, after greeting Jack and Alinto, she was comfortably seated, I took some note paper from the little writing table by the window and scribbled in pencil the words, I need not write how delighted I am that you are safe, that the Almighty has heard my prayers for you. Jack and Muriel have told me all about Lifeport and his scoundrelly associates. I know too, dear, for I may call you that, may I not? How terribly you must have suffered in silence through it all. Lifeport is dead. He sank the yacht with all the stolen property on board, but by accident was himself engulfed. Bending and watching intently, as I wrote, she drew back in horror and surprise at the words, then I added, we are all for determined that the guilty shall not go unpunished, and that the affliction placed upon you shall be adequately avenged. You are my own love. I am bold enough to call you so. Some strong but mysterious bond of affinity between us caused me to seek you out, and your pictured face seemed to call me to your side, although I was unaware of your peril. I was sent to you by the unseen power to extricate you from the hands of your enemies. Therefore, tell us everything, all that you know, without fear, for now that we are united, no harm can assail us. She took the pencil and holding it in her white fingers sat staring first at us, and then looking unhesitatingly at the white paper before her. Her position amid a hundred conflicting emotions was one of extreme difficulty. It seemed as though even now she was loathe to reveal to us the absolute truth. Muriel, standing behind her chair, tenderly stroked back the wealth of chestnut hair from her white brow. Her complexion was perfect, even though her face was pale and jaded, and her eyes heavy, consequent upon her long, weary journey from the now frozen north. Presently, when by signs both Jack and Olinto had urged her to write, she bent suddenly, and her pencil began to run swiftly over the paper. All of us stood exchanging glances in silence, neither looking over her, but each determined to wait in patience until the end. Once started, however, she did not pause. She, after sheet she covered, the silence for a long time was complete, broken only by the rapid running of the pencil over the rough surface of the paper. She had apparently become seized by a sudden determination to explain everything now that she saw we were in real, red, earnest. I watched her sweet face bent so intently, and as the firelight fell across it found it incomparable. Yes, she was afflicted by loss of speech. It was true, yet she was surely inexpressibly sweet and womanly, peerless above all others. With a deep-drawn sigh, she at last finished and, her head still bowed in an attitude of humiliation it seemed, she handed what she had written to me. In breathless eagerness, I read as follows, It is true, dear love, for I call you so in return, that you were impelled towards me by the mysterious hand that directs all things. You came and searched me, and you risked your life for mying at Kajana. Therefore, you have a right to know the truth. You, as my champion, and the princess as my friend, have contrived to affect my freedom. Were it not for you I should air this have-been on my way to Saakalyan, to the tomb through which Ober had so ingeniously contrived to consign me. Ah, you do not know, you never can know, all that I have suffered ever since I was a girl. Here the statement broke off, and recommenced as follows. In order that you should understand the truth, I had better begin at the beginning. My father was an English merchant in Petersburg, and my mother, Vera Besanov, who before her marriage with my father, was celebrated at court for her beauty and was one of the maids of honor to the Tsarina. She was the only daughter of Count Baldesanov, ex-governor of Karpov, and before marrying my father, she had, and with her mother, been a well-known figure in society, immediately after her marriage, her father died, leaving her in possession of an ample fortune, which, with my father's own wealth, placed them among the richest and most influential in Petersburg. Among my father's most intimate friends was Baron Xavier Ober, who at that time held the very subordinate post in the Ministry of the Interior. And from my earliest recollections, I can remember him coming frequently to our house and being invited to the brilliant entertainment which my mother gave. When I was thirteen, however, my father died of a chill contracted while boar-hunting on his estate in Kiev, and within a few months a further disaster happened to us. One night while I was sitting alone, reading aloud to my mother, two strangers were announced, and on being shown in, they arrested my dear mother on a charge of complicity in a revolutionary plot against the Tsar, which had been discovered at Peterhof. I stood defiant and indignant, for my mother was certainly no nihilist, yet they said that the bomb had been introduced into the palace by the Countess and the Shyprop, one of the ladies in waiting, who was an intimate friend of my mother's and often used to visit her. They alleged that the conspiracy had been hatched in our house, color being lent to that theory by the fact that a year before, a well-known Russian with whom my father had had many business dealings had been proved to be the author of the plot by which the Tsar's train was blown up near Lvivia. They tore my mother away from me and placed her in that grey prison van, the sight of which in the streets of Petersburg strikes terror into the heart of every Russian, for a person once in that rumbling vehicle is, as you know, lost forever to the world. I watched her from the window being placed in that fatal conveyance and then I think I must have fainted, for I recollect nothing more until I found myself upon the floor with the grey dawn spreading and all the horrible truth came back to me. My mother was gone from me forever. In sheer desperation I went to the ministry of the interior and sought an interview with the Baron, who, when I told him of the disaster, appeared greatly concerned and when it wants to the police department to make inquiry. Next day, however, he came to me with the news that the charge against my mother had been proved by a state of the woman Shapirov herself and that she had already started on her long journey to Siberia. She had been exiled to one of those dreaded arctic settlements beyond Yakutsk, a place where it is almost eternal winter and where the conditions of life are such that half the convicts are insane. The Baron, however, declared that, as my father's friend, it was his duty to act as guardian to me and that as my father had been English I ought to be put through an English school. Therefore, with his self-assumed title of uncle, he took me to Chichester. For years I remained there until one day he came suddenly and fetched me away, taking me over to Helsingfors, for the Tsar had now appointed him Governor-General to Finland. There for the first time he introduced me to his son, Michael, a pimply-faced lieutenant of Cavalry and said in the most decisive manner that I must marry him. I naturally refused to marry a man through whom I knew so little, whereupon finding me obdurate he quickly altered his tactics and became kindness itself, saying that as I was young he would allow me a year in which to make up my mind. A week later while living in the palace at Helsingfors, I overheard a conversation between the Governor-General and his son, which revealed to me a staggering truth that I had never suspected. It was Oberg himself who had been out my mother to the Minister of the Interior and had made those cruel, baseless charges against her. Then I discerned the reason. She, being exiled, her fortune as well as that of my father, came to me. The reason they were scheming for Michael to marry me was in order to obtain control of my money. I saw at once how helpless I was in the hands of that unscrupulous pair, recognized, too, sufficient of the Baron's methods as the strangler of Finland, to show me what kind of character he was beneath that calm, eminently respectable, black-coated exterior. After deliberately sending my poor mother to Siberia, he had assumed the role of my guardian in order that he might, when I came of age, obtain control of my inheritance, the idea, no doubt, being that I should marry Michael, and then, after the necessary legal formalities, I should, on a trumped-up charge of conspiracy, share the same fate as my mother had done. The infernal scoundrel I ejaculated when I read her word, while from Jack, who had been looking over my shoulder, escaped a fierce and forcible vow of vengeance. The Baron took me with him to Petersburg when we went on official business, and we remained there nearly a month, the narrative went on. While there I received a secret message from the Red Priest, the unseen and unknown power of neilism, who has, for so many years, battled the police. I went to see him, and he revealed to me how Oberg had contrived to have my mother banished upon a false charge. He warned me against the man who had pretended to be my father's friend, and also told me that he had known my father intimately, and that if I got into any further difficulty, I was to communicate with him, and he would assist me. Oberg took me back to Helsingfors a few months later, and in summer we went to England. He was a marvelously clever diplomatist. His tactics, he could change at will. When I was at school, he was rough and brutal in his manner towards me, as he was to all. But now he seemed to be endeavouring to inspire my confidence by treating me with kindly regard, and pleasant appability. In London at Claridge's, we met my old school fellow Muriel and her father, a friend of Oberg's, and in response to their invitation went for a cruise on their yacht, the Iris, from Southampton. Our party was a very pleasant one, and included woodrope and chatter, while our cruise across the Bay of Biscay and along the Portuguese coast proved most delightful. One night while we were lying outside Lisbon, woodrope and chatter, together with a linto, went ashore, and when they returned in the early hours of the morning, they awoke me by crossing the deck above my head. Then I heard someone outside my cabin door, working as though with a screwdriver on screwing a screw from the woodwork. This aroused my interest, and next day I made a minute examination of the paneling, where in one part I found two small brass screws that had evidently been recently removed. Therefore I succeeded in getting hold of a screwdriver from the carpenter's shop. And next night, when everyone was asleep, I crept out and unscrewed the panel. When, to my surprise, I saw that the secret cavity behind was filled with beautiful jewelry, diamond collars, tiaras, necklace, pine pearls, emeralds and turquoise, all thrown in indiscriminately. I replaced the panel and kept careful watch. At Marseille, where we called more jewelry, and a heavy bag full of plate was brought aboard, and secreted behind another panel. Then I knew that the men were thieves. But surely, continued the strange story my mute love had written, I need not describe all that occurred upon that eventful voyage, except to tell you of one very curious incident which occurred. I had spoken confidentially with Muriel regarding my suspicions of the men who were our fellow guests. And when in secret I showed her several places on board the yacht where valuables were secreted, she also became convinced that the men were expert thieves to whom her father, for some unexplained reason, rendered assistance an asylum. She told me that since she had left school, she had been on quite a number of cruises, and at the same party always accompanied her father. She had, however, never suspected the truth until I pointed it out to her. Well, one hot summer's night we were lying off Naples, and, as it was a grand festa ashore and there was to be a gala performance at the theater, life court took a box and the whole party were rowed ashore. The crew were also given shore leave for the evening, but as the great heat had upset me, I declined to accompany the theater party and remained on board with one sailor named Wilson to constitute the watch. We had anchored about a half mile from land, and earlier in the evening the baron had gone ashore to send telegrams to Russia and had not returned. About ten o'clock I went below to try and sleep, but I had a slight attack of fever and was unable. Therefore I redressed and sat with the light still out, gazing across the starlit bay. Presently from my poor old, I saw a shoreboat approaching and recognized in it the baron with a well-dressed stranger. They both came on board, and the boatman, having been caved, pulled back to the shore. Then the baron and his friend, a dark, middle-aged, full-bearded fellow, evidently a person of refinement, went below to the saloon and after a few moments called to the man Wilson who was on the watch and gave him a glass of whiskey and water, which he took up on deck to drink at his leisure. The unusual character of my fellow guest on board that craft was such that my suspicion was constantly on the alert. Therefore curiosity tempted me to creep along and peek in at the crack of the door standing ajar. A closer view revealed the fact that the stranger was a high Russian official to whom I had once been introduced at the government palace at Helsingfors, the private councilor, and Senator Paul Palovstov. They were smoking together and discussing in Russian the means by which he, Palovstov, had arranged to obtain some plans from new British fortifications at Gibraltar. From what he said it seemed that some Russian woman, married to an Englishman, a captain in the garrison, had been impressed into the secret service against her will, but that she had, in order to save herself, promised to obtain the photographs and plans that were required. I heard the Englishman's name and I resolved to take some steps to inform him in secret of the intentions of the Russian agent. Presently the two men took fresh cigars, ascended on deck, and cast themselves in the long, pained chairs amid ships. Still all curiosity to hear further details on the ingenious piece of espionage against my own nation, I took off my shoes and crept up to a spot where I could crouch, conceal, and overhear their conversation, for the Italian night was calm and still. They talked mainly about affairs in Finden and with some of Ober's expressions of opinion, Halasdok ventured to differ. This aroused the barren's anger and I knew from the cold sarcasm of his remarks and the peculiarly hard tone of his voice that he was more incensed than he outwardly showed himself to be. He rose and stood with his back to the bulwarks facing his friend, who still sat leaning back in his deck chair, insisting upon his own views. He was quite calm and not in the least perturbed by the evil glint in the barren's eye. Perhaps he did not know him so well as I did. He did not know what that looked meant. Suddenly, while the privy counselor lay back in his chair, pulling thoughtfully at his cigar, there was a bright, blood-red flash, a dull report, and a man's short, agonized try. Startled, I leaned around the corner of the deck house when, to my abject horror, I saw under the electric rays the Tsar's privy counselor lying sideways in his chair, with part of his face blown away. Then the hideous truth in an instant became apparent. The cigar which Ober had pressed upon him down in the saloon had exploded and the small missile concealed inside the diabolical contrivance had passed upwards into his brain. For a moment I stood utterly stupefied, yet as I looked, I saw the barren in a paroxysm of rage shake his fist in a dead man's face and cry with a fearful implication. You hound, you have plotted to replace me in the Tsar's favor. You intend it to become Governor General of Finland. You knew certain facts which you intended to put out before his Majesty, knowing that the revelation would result in my disgrace and downfall. But, you infernal cur, you did not know that those who attempt to thwart Xavier Ober either die by accident or go for life to Kajana or the mines. And he spurned the body with his foot and laughed to himself as he gloated over his dastardly crime. I watched his rage unable to utter a single word. I saw him after he had searched the dead man's pockets, raised the inert body with its awful featureless face, and dragged it to the bullwalks. Then I rushed forward and faced him. In an instant he sprang at me and I screamed, but no aid came. The man Wilson was sleeping soundly in the boughs, for the whiskey he had given him had been doctored went on the narrative. Upon his face was a fierce, murderous look such as I had never seen before. You, he screamed, his dark eyes starting from their sockets as he realized that I had been a witness of his cowardly crime. You have spied upon me, girl, he hissed, and you shall die also. I sank upon my knees, imploring him to spare me, but he only laughed at my entreaty. See, he cried as you saw how he enjoyed his cigar. You may as well see this. And with an effort he raised the dead body in his arms, poised it for a moment on the vessel's side, and then with a forced laugh of triumph, heaved it into the sea. There was a splash, and then we were alone. And you, he cried in her fierce voice, you who have spied upon me, you will follow. The water there will close your chattering mouth. I shrieked, begged, and implored, but his trembling hands were upon my throat. First he dragged me to my feet, then he threw me upon my knees, and at last with that grim brutality which characterizes him, he directed me to go and get a mop and bucket from the forecastle and remove the dark red stains from the chair and deck. This he actually forced me to do, gloating over my horror as I removed for him the traces of his cowardly crime. Then with his hand upon my shoulder he said, Girl, recollect that you keep tonight's work secret. If not, you shall die of death more painful than that dog has died, one in which you shall experience all the tortures of the dam. Recollect not a single word or death. Now go to your cabin and never cry into my affairs again. I went back to my cabin as I was dead and sat speechless in abject horror. The fiendish actions of the man who was my guardian frightened me, and yet I was utterly helpless. What could I do? Who in holy Russia would hear me? Ober was a power in the empire. The Tsar himself trusted him. If I spoke, who would believe me? Who would heed the words of a defenseless girl whom he would at once declare to be hysterical? Thus I waited alone in the darkness, watching the lights of the court gleaming across the placid waters until nearly one o'clock when the gay party returned and the baron greeted them merrily as though nothing had happened. But my heart was frozen within me by the recollection of the awful crime that had been committed. Why? Now I remember, cried Muriel Amaze. I remember that night quite well. How white you were when you came to my cabin and asked to be allowed to sleep in my spare bed. You would tell me nothing and only said you were ill. None of us had any idea that such a terrible tragedy had been enacted. But of course the baron had arranged it all, for it was at his instigation I recollect that the crew had been given sure leave. Macintosh suggested that only half the crew should go, but he declared that if Wilson alone were left, it would be sufficient. I too recollect the affair quite well, Jack declared, tugging at his moustache, utterly amazed at my love's strange story. It was a strange statement of far astounding facts, and she now stood clinging to me, looking eagerly into my eyes, meeting every thought that passed through my mind. A great sensation was caused when the body was discovered. The squadron was lying off naples about a week after the iris had left, and while we were there the body was washed up near Sorrento. At first but little notice was taken of it, but by the marks on the dead man's linen it was discovered that he was Polostov, one of the highest Russian officials who had, it was said, been warned on several occasions by the Nillis. It was therefore concluded that his death had been due to Nillis vengeance. Elma pointed to the paper and made a sign that I was to read on. This I did, and a statement ran as follows. The real reason why the Baron spared my life was because if I died my fortune would pass through distant cousins living at Durham. Yet his manner towards me was now most polite and pleasant, a change that I felt voted no good. He intended to obtain my money by marrying me to his son Michael, whose evil reputation as a gambler was well known in Petersburg. We traveled back to Finland in the autumn and in the winter he took me to stay with his sister in Nice. Yet, almost daily, he referred to that tragedy at Naples and threatened me with death if ever I uttered a single word or even admitted that I had ever seen the man who was his rival and his victim. Last June, commenced another paragraph, we were in Helsingfors when, one day, the Baron called me suddenly and told me to prepare for a journey. We were to cross to Stockholm and thence the hall where the iris was awaiting us, for Mr. Life put in Muriel had invited us for a summer cruise to the Greek islands. We boarded the yacht much against my will, yet I was powerless and dare not acknowledge the facts that I had already established concerning our fellow guests. Muriel and I, it seemed, were taken merely in order to blind the shore guards and customs officials as to the real nature of the vessel, which, when safely out of the channel, was repainted and renamed the Lola until her exterior presented quite a different appearance from the iris. The Fort of Legorn was our first place of call, and for some reason we ran purposely upon a sandbank and were towed off by Italian torpedo boats. Next evening, you came on board and dined, Muriel and myself, having strict orders not to show ourselves. We, however, watched you, and I saw you pick up my photograph which I had that day torn up. Then, immediately after you had left, Woodruff, Chatter and Mackintosh went ashore and were away a couple of hours in the middle of the night. Just before they returned, the Baron wrapped at the door of my cabin saying that he must go ashore and telling me to dress and accompany him. He would never allow me the luxury of a maid, peering, I suppose, that she might burn too much. In obedience, I rose and dressed, and when I went forth, he told me to get my traveling cloak and dressing bag, adding that he was compelled to go north as to continue the cruise with Occupy too much time. He was due back at his official duties, he said. As soon as I had finished packing, the three men returned to the vessel, all of them looking dark-faced and disappointed. Woodruff whispered some words to the Baron, after which I went to Muriel's cabin and wished her to die, and we went ashore, taking the train first to Corleus Salvetti, then to Pisa, and afterwards to the beautiful old city of Sienna, which I had so long to see. One of my teeth gave me pain, and the Baron, after a couple of days at the Hotel de Sienne, took me to a queer-looking little old Italian, a dentist who, he said, enjoyed an excellent reputation. I was quick to notice that two men had met before, and as I sat in the chair and gas was given to me, I saw them exchange, meaning glances. In a few moments I became insensible, but when I awoke an hour later, I was astounded to feel a curious soreness in my ears. My tongue too seemed paralyzed, and in a few moments the awful truth dawned upon me. I had been rendered deaf and dumb. The Baron pretended to be greatly concerned about me, it went on, but I quickly realized that I had been the victim of a foul and dastardly plot, and that he had conceived it, fearing lest I might speak the truth concerning the Privy Councilor Falosta, for of exposure he lived in constant fear. To encompass my end would be against his own interests, as he would lose my fortune, so he had me silenced lest I should reveal the terrible truth concerning both him and his associates. He was not rich, and I have reason to believe that from time to time he gave information as he persons who possessed valuable jewels, and thus shared in the plunder obtained by those on the yacht. From Italy we traveled on to Berlin, thence to Petersburg, and back to dreary Helsingfors, journeying as quickly as we could, yet never allowing the opportunity of being with strangers. Both my ears and tongue were very painful, but I said nothing. He was surely athene in a black coat, and my only thought now was how to escape him. From the moment when that so-called dentist had ruined my hearing and deprived me of power of speech, he kept me aloof from everyone. The fear that I should reveal everything had apparently grown to haunt him, and he had conceived that terrible mood of silencing my lips. But the true depth of his villainy was not yet apparent until I was back in Finland. On the night of our arrival he called in his son who had traveled with us from Petersburg, and in writing again demanded that I should marry him. I wrote my reply, affirm refusal. He struck the table angrily with his fist and wrote saying that I should either marry his son or die. The next day, while walking alone out beyond the town of Helsingfors, as I often used to do, I was arrested upon the false charge of an attempt upon the life of Madame Bakoura and transported without trial to the terrible fortress of Kajana, some of the horrors of which you have yourself experienced. The charge against me was necessary before I could be incarcerated there, but once within it it was the scheme of the Governor-General to obtain my consent to the marriage by threats and by the constant terrors of the place. He even went so far as to obtain a ministerial order for my banishment to Sugghelion and brought it to me to Kajana, declaring that if in one month I did not consent, he should allow me to be sent to exile. While I was in Kajana, he knew that his secret was safe, therefore by every means in his power he urged me to consent to the odious human. All the rest is known to you, how Providence directed you to me as my deliverer, and how Woodruff followed you in secret and pretending to be my friend took me with him to Petersburg. He had learned of my fortune from the Baron and intended to marry me himself, but now that all is over, it appears to me like some terrible dream. I never believed that so much iniquity existed in the world, or that men could fight a defenseless woman with such double dealing and cruel ingenuity. Ah, the tortures I endured in Kajana are beyond human conception, yet surely Ober and Woodruff will obtain their well merited desserts. If not in this world, then in the world to come, are we not taught by Holy Rift to forgive our enemies? Therefore, let us forgive, there my silent love's strange story ended, a bald, straightforward narrative that held us all for some moment, absolutely speechless. One of the strangest and most startling stories ever revealed. She watched every expression of my countenance, and then, when I had finished reading and placed my arm tenderly about her slim waist, she raised her beautiful face to mine to receive the passionate kiss I imprinted upon those soft, cool lips. This, of course, makes everything plain, exclaimed Jack. Halostov was a very liberal-minded and upright official who was greatly in favor of the Tsar and a serious rival to Ober, whose drastic and merciless methods in Finland were not exactly approved by the Emperor. The Baron was well aware of this, and by ingeniously enticing him on board the iris, he succeeded by handing that small bomb concealed in his cigar, a niless contrivance that had probably been seized by his police in Finland in freeing himself from the rival who was destined to occupy his post. Yes, I said with a sigh, the mystery is cleared up, it is true, yet my core elma is still the victim, and I kissed my love passionately again and again upon the lips. End of Chapter 18, Recording by Tom Weiss The Conclusion of the Tsar's Spy Nearly two years have now gone by. There have been great changes in Holy Russia, many great and amazing changes consequent upon war and its disasters. Russia is no longer the great power that she once was supposed to be. Many events that have startled the world have occurred since that day when I first unfolded my silent love within my arms. One of them is known to you all. You read in the newspapers without a doubt how the Baron Xavier Ober, the persecutor of Finland, the enemy of education, the relentless foe of the defenseless, the man who ordered women to be noted to death in Kejana, the heartless official whom the Finns called the Strangler, was blown to pieces by a bomb thrown beneath his carriage as he drove to the railway station at Helsinggvors on his way to have audience with the emperor. The secret truth was that the Red Priest decreed that Ober should die, and the plot was swiftly put into execution. And although 500 arrests were made, the police are unaware to this day of the identity of the person who directed it or of who threw the fatal missile. From pillar to post, the revolutionists have been haunted by the bloodhounds of police. Yet the Red Priest still lives on quietly in Petersburg, and the Princess Zerloff, still unsuspected, devotes the greater part of her enormous income to the cause of freedom. Of Jack and Muriel, I need only say they were married about three months after Elma's return from Russia. And at the present time they are living on the outskirts of Glasgow, where Jack has secured the shore appointment which he so long coveted. By some means, exactly how is not quite certain, the police discovered that Dick Archer, alias Woodruff, alias Hornby, was concerned in the clever robbery of a dressing bag containing the dowager Lady Lancashire's jewels from her footnain on Houston platform. And after a long search they found him hiding at a hotel in Liverpool. When however they went to arrest him, he laughed in the faces of the detectives, placed something swiftly in his mouth and swallowed it before they could prevent him. Then ten minutes later, he fell dead. He knew what terrible revelations must be made if we gave evidence against him, and he therefore preferred death by his own hand to that following a judicial sentence. Chatter, although one of the most expert jewel thieves in Europe, had never been actually guilty of any grave or offense. And when we heard that he was in San Francisco, where he had opened a small bar and was trying to live honestly, we resolved to allow him to remain there. Indeed Jack wrote to him about nine months ago, warning him never to set foot on English soil again, on pain of arrest. Olinto Santini has recently opened a small restaurant in Western Road, Brighton, and is, I believe, doing very well. And ourselves, well, what can I really tell you? Mere words fail to tell you of the completeness of our happiness. It is idyllic, that is all I can say. My proposal of marriage was made to Elma a very few days after she wrote down her startling and romantic story. And a year ago at a little village church in Herbert Shire, we became man and wife, there being present at our wedding, Madame Heath, my bride's mother, to whom by my exertions in official quarters in Petersburg, the czar's clemency was extended, and she was released from that far-off arctic prison to which she had been sent with such cruel injustice. Two of the greatest London specialists have continually treated my dear wife, and under them she has already recovered her speech, so far indeed that she can now whisper in a low, soft voice. But they tell me they are hopeful that ere long her voice will become stronger, and speech practically restored, already too she can begin to hear. After all the storms and perils of the past, our lives are now indeed full of a calm, sweet peace. In our own comfortable little house, with its trellis porch covered with roses and honeysuckle, that faces the blue channel at St. Margaret's Bay beyond Dover, we lead a life of mutual trust and boundless love. We are supremely content, the happiest pair in all the world, we think. Often, as we sit together at evening, gazing out upon the great ships passing darkly away into the mysterious afterglow, our hands clasp mutually in a silence more eloquent than words, and as we gaze into each other's eyes, there occurs to us the divine injunction, whom God hath joined, let no man put asunder. This is the end of the Tsar's Spying by William Le Cue, recording by Tom Weiss.