The Mission Of Poubalov - free ebook by Frederick R. (Frederick Russell) Burton

The Mission Of Poubalov

BY FREDERICK R. BURTON NEW YORK STREET &amp; SMITH, Publishers 29 Rose Street...

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CHAPTER I.

THEIR WEDDING MORNING. Ivan pulled aside the curtain and looked up at the sky. It was as clear as crystal, as blue as the eyes of his beloved, the promise fulfilled of a perfect day. On a window cornice across the street a tiny bird perked his head toward the sun and chirped noisily. To a lively imagination kindled by fond anticipations the twittering of the bird would have seemed like music. So it was to Ivan. His heart responded with unformed melodies, and some of their stray notes found their

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CHAPTER II.

AN EXPLANATION SUGGESTED. "Wait for me a moment, Paul," said Ralph Harmon as the people began to pour out of the church. He went to the room in the vestry where Clara Hilman sat pale and tearless. With her were Mr. Pembroke, his daughter Louise, and two or three other young ladies who were intimate friends of the unfortunate bride. Ralph did not approach the group, but paused at the door and looked significantly at Miss Pembroke. She went to him at once, and, unseen by the others, he took both h

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CHAPTER III.

AN IMPERFECT VISION. Ivan Strobel had been a lodger in Mrs. White's house for more than two years. During the greater part of that period he had been the only lodger, and from the beginning his relations with his landlady had been more as if he were a friend of the family than merely a tenant. His evenings were not infrequently spent in Mrs. White's sitting-room, where his strongly domestic nature found some comfort in reading aloud to the old lady and her daughter, or in playing cards, or in te

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CHAPTER IV.

CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS. Clara had not fainted in her uncle's arms, but she nestled against him quivering and sobbing; and again it was fortunate for her that the excited, pent-up forces of her brain had broken through in a flood of tears. "You see, Dexter!" cried Mr. Pembroke in broken accents, "how my poor girl suffers. There, there, Clara, better get back to your bed and try to sleep. I thought Louise was looking after you." "She has been with me," replied Clara, "but I sent her away. I wanted

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CHAPTER V.

THE AGENT OF THE CZAR. "Good-morning," said Poubalov, gutturally; "this is Madame White, I believe?" "Yes, sir," replied the landlady, impressed at once by the stranger's deferential manner, and believing that through him the mystery would be cleared away; "won't you come in?" "Thank you, yes. I have called to inquire for my friend Strobel." "You are not the first, sir," said Mrs. White, opening the door to the sitting-room. "There are two here now who will be glad to see you. Miss Hilman, this

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CHAPTER VI.

LITIZKI AT WORK. "It would have been perfectly natural," continued Poubalov, "for Strobel to suspect me at first blush of evil intentions, and I presume he did so; for, without inquiring what brought me to America and to him, he took pains to remind me that he was within the jurisdiction of the United States, and that it was not his purpose to set foot outside the limits of your country, of which I presume he is by this time a citizen." "He has taken out his first papers," replied Clara. "And, t

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CHAPTER VII.

A DANGEROUS MAN. For some minutes after Poubalov left the house Clara sat motionless, reviewing the strange discourse of the Russian, trying to persuade herself one moment to trust him, and the next impulsively throwing aside the theories so finely spun from his innuendoes and circumlocutions. She shuddered at the thought of Ivan in the hands of such fanatics as she knew were included in the most rabid enemies of Russian polity, and as promptly felt such a solution of the mystery to be impossibl

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CHAPTER VIII.

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. Nothing would deter Clara from a trip to police headquarters after luncheon, and, as in the forenoon, her Cousin Louise accompanied her. As they entered the building in Pemberton Square, they met the infirm old man, Dexter, he who had arrived late at the church, he whom Clara had interrupted in conversation with Mr. Pembroke. He bowed to the young ladies with an attempt at graciousness, and reached for the shapeless, soft cap that covered his head, but he only succeede

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CHAPTER IX.

LITIZKI'S LESSON. There had been no scuffle and almost no noise as the tailor fell to the floor, but one of the chamber doors opened, nevertheless, and a startled voice asked: "What's that?" "Sorry you've been disturbed," said Poubalov; "a friend of mine, with a little more of a load than he could manage, has stumbled. That's all. I will look out for him." The inquirer went back to bed grumbling, and as soon as the door closed Poubalov whispered in Russian: "Will you keep quiet, or shall I have

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CHAPTER X.

CORROBORATIVE DETAIL. Clara had not come sufficiently in contact with the evil side of human nature to ignore an anonymous letter. She felt all the contempt for the writer that he or she deserved, and she spurned the suggestion contained in the letter as utterly unworthy of a moment's attention. Yet the sting was there. She might ignore the letter to all appearances, and yet not be able to forget it. The cruelty of the writer was what she felt, not the force of the blow. "I cannot understand," s

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CHAPTER XI.

STRANGE EXIT OF POUBALOV. "I had already shown it to Mr. Bowker," replied Mrs. White, anxiously; "I thought it might convince him that Lizzie had nothing to do with the disappearance of Mr. Strobel." "It didn't convince him," said Clara, bitterly; "but no matter. May I copy Miss Lizzie's address?" "Of course. Are you going to write to her?" "Perhaps so. Have you written yet?" "I haven't had time, but I shall do so this afternoon. Is there something you would like to have me say?" Clara was inten

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CHAPTER XII.

LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT. In the brief interval that elapsed between the time when she turned from Poubalov and the moment she entered the library, Clara reflected that while her loyal heart would rebel at the story to be told by Billings, she must hear him patiently, and not permit her distrust of him to manifest itself. One can think to good purpose in even so short a time as it takes to walk across a room. Clara was fully resolved to be guided by her reason alone in dealing with Billing

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CHAPTER XIII.

WHAT BECAME OF LITIZKI. Clara retired before her uncle returned, and when at last he appeared, it was only to pack his bag and hurry away to catch the midnight train for New York. "I may be gone a week," he told Louise, "and I may get back in two days. Telegraph me at the Travelers' Hotel, if I am wanted for anything." Mr. Pembroke's departure was a great disappointment to Clara. She reproached herself that she had not made an opportunity to tell him about her conversation with Poubalov and Liti

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CHAPTER XIV.

A NEW DEPARTURE. "What a hard and disagreeable experience," exclaimed Clara, "and so strange too! You have no occasion to reproach yourself, Mr. Litizki, with any neglect. You did all that any man could do, I am sure, and it may not prove to be unfortunate that Poubalov saw that you were watching him." "I wish I could think so," responded the tailor, "and it is wonderfully kind of you to be so patient with my failure. Isn't there something that I can do now? I can do no work until this matter is

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CHAPTER XV.

LOUISE RECEIVES A CALLER. Mr. Pembroke met Clara at the train when it arrived in the Grand Central Depot promptly at nine o'clock. He was plainly anxious, almost agitated. "Tell me, child," he exclaimed, "why you have come?" "I couldn't be satisfied," she replied, "without setting at rest the rumors that connect Ivan's name with Lizzie White." "Oh," said her uncle, apparently relieved, "is that all?" "All, uncle? Why, no, not if I find anything that leads me to believe that Ivan is in New York.

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CHAPTER XVI.

LIZZIE WHITE. Clara clutched her uncle's arm convulsively and leaned heavily upon him. "You have seen Mr. Strobel?" she whispered. All the color fled from Litizki's face as he realized how woefully he had put his foot in it. In the intensity of his hate for Poubalov and his distrust of him, he had forgotten for the moment that the spy was but a secondary figure in the drama they were enacting. Clara saw in the little tailor's distressed expression that she had interpreted his words erroneously.

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CHAPTER XVII.

HOW LITIZKI SAVED MISS HILMAN. The ladies' entrance to the Travelers' Hotel was upon the same street as the main corridor, almost next door to it. Clara glanced in as the carriage slowly passed the open doors and she saw her uncle at the further end, pacing slowly toward her. Two men were with him whom she did not at the moment recognize, but so anxious was she to have a word with him that when she alighted, instead of going in at the ladies' entrance, she stepped over to the main doorway and st

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CHAPTER XVIII.

THE KEY TO IVAN'S PRISON. The train was proceeding at such comparatively slow speed that Litizki, though he had jumped blindly and though he fell full length on the ground, was not hurt. Before the rear car had passed he was on his feet and making across the tracks. A fence too high for him to scale barred his progress, and he hurried in the direction of Roxbury, looking for some means of egress from the "yard" through which the railroad ran. He found it at last, a narrow gate in the fence at th

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CHAPTER XIX.

THE GHOST OF POUBALOV. Litizki laid the newspaper down and tried to reflect. He had not slept at all since he awoke from a very brief nap in New York the morning before; therefore, he had not dreamed the scene in the drawing-room car. With his own hand he had actually struck Poubalov to the heart, and his victim had fallen with the gasp and shudder of death. This was so, and no newspaper could make it otherwise; but how should it happen that the reporters had missed the episode? It had happened

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CHAPTER XX.

THE LITTLE FRONT ROOM. When Poubalov had fallen to the floor of the car and Clara was bending over him, his dark eyes shone with savage luster as he said: "I am not hurt, Miss Hilman, but I would I were, if I could thereby gain your sympathy." "Not hurt!" she repeated aghast at the spectacle he presented, and unable to credit his words. He lay flat on his back, and protruding upward from his closely-buttoned coat was the dagger. It looked as if half the length of the blade had been buried in his

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CHAPTER XXI.

WHAT PAUL PALOVNA SAW. Paul was not disheartened by his discovery, or by the landlady's comment. He believed that she was telling the truth, and that the door that Litizki supposed to communicate with the little front room really opened into a huge closet, a convenience with which the old-fashioned house abounded. He had paid a week's rent, and he determined to get some good out of it. Accordingly, he returned to his regular quarters, and packed a bag with personal effects, as if he were going u

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CHAPTER XXII.

POUBALOV'S REVOLUTION. Paul's heart seemed to stand still as he reflected on Poubalov's act. The original purpose of the spy in calling upon Strobel and instigating his abduction, was as much a mystery as ever, but it was one that could be explained on the ground of Poubalov's confessed relations with the government with which Strobel had been in conflict. There was nothing personal in that; but here was an element of personal relationship that might lead to worse than complications. Poubalov in

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CHAPTER XXIII.

AT ONE O'CLOCK A.M. Clara rose at this and faced her adversary, speaking with intensity no less than his: "It discredits your boasted intelligence," she said, "to presume so much as to suggest a compromise to me. There can be no middle course. You do not care that I consider you an unspeakable villain, but you must see that you are bound to do one thing or the other. Bring my lover to me, or—it would be idle boasting to say what the alternative would be, but you know that I should never cease to

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CHAPTER XXIV.

THE NEW CLEW. Frantic with anxiety and dread, Paul followed a sudden impulse and jumped to the floor, ran to the door that opened into the hall, unlocked and opened it and rushed out. He had a wild idea of bursting in the door of Poubalov's room and wrestling with him if need be to take away the revolver and prevent suicide. He stopped, startled, just outside his door, for Poubalov stood before him, the light from the chandelier streaming out upon him and showing him erect, alert, his revolver p

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CHAPTER XXV.

A STUBBORN ANTAGONIST. "Stay just where you are, Michael," exclaimed Clara, "and don't let that man see your face." Mike did as directed, pushing his head and shoulders far into the coupé and whispering: "It isn't him, is it, miss, who's got anything to do with the case?" "Yes," she replied in a low tone, while she and Paul kept as far back in the gloom of the carriage as they could; "have you ever seen him before?" "Yes'm, he was down to the stables the day this gentleman called, askin' would I

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CHAPTER XXVI.

HIDE AND SEEK. Clara's face was deathly pale, and in her heart anger burned as hotly at Poubalov's ceremonious insolence as it ached with this fresh blow to her hopes. Paul, blue with despair, feared for her, but she had not yet met the emergency that was too great for her to contend with, however unsuccessful she might be. "We must waste no time here!" she cried stepping quickly forward to the coupé. "Return to that house, Paul, and search it; do what you think is best, according to development

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CHAPTER XXVII.

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. "About this hour, one week ago to-day," thought Clara as she took her place again in the coupé, "I should have been getting into a carriage at the church door, with Ivan, as his wife! What an eternity seems to have passed since then! Will the search and the waiting never end?" There were no tears now, no disposition to give way. The dull ache at her heart was there, and it seemed as if it would stay forever, but all emotion now was held in check by her determination not to l

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CHAPTER XXVIII.

POUBALOV SUCCEEDS. Her indecision was but momentary. Every nerve tingling with apprehension, her arms straining to embrace her lover and allay his suffering, she threw open the door at her right hand. Dusty furniture, faded hangings confronted her, nothing else. Aroused by the disappointment to a fever of anxiety and energy, she laid her hand upon the other door, and above the rattling of the knob she heard again the faint moan. The door was locked, and it merely creaked complainingly when she e

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TAKE

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