Chapter VIII: Colonel Nord of Riga

The gray dawn stole over the sky, and when it was sufficiently light for his purpose Sandoff drew out the bundle of papers and examined them closely. One was the passport, made out in the name of Serge Zamosc and companions—a form which admitted of a very wide construction. The others were letters of instruction, which made clear—at least to a certain point—the object of Zamosc’s journey across Siberia. It appeared that the inspector was to report on the condition of Siberian prisons, with a view to changes which the Minister of Police had in contemplation. Moreover the nature of these letters showed that Zamosc’s mission was a secret one, and among them was one document which enjoined all government officials along the route to give him whatever aid he might require.

“I rely on this more than anything,” said Sandoff to his companion, “for it puts us beyond the reach of unpleasant questioning. As for Vera, I have a plan that promises well. I will say that she is the wife of some Russian officer at Irkutsk, who is going to visit friends at Vladivostok, and whom I have agreed to see to her destination.”

“Yes, that is a splendid plan,” rejoined Shamarin. “But yourself, are you in no danger?”

“Very little, I think,” said Sandoff confidently. “It is not likely that we shall encounter any one who ever saw Zamosc, for he was never out of Russia before. We will travel rapidly and make as few stops as possible. We will part company with our captive as soon as Vladivostok is reached.”

“And what will you do with him in the meantime?” asked Shamarin. “Would it not be best to put him out of the way?”

“By no means,” answered Sandoff decidedly. “I don’t propose to commit murder. We will keep him constantly gagged and bound, and at night—whenever we happen to be stopping at a post station—you, Shamarin, will have to sleep in the sledge with him. We will keep him well covered up, and with care none but ourselves will ever see him.”

Shamarin was satisfied with this plan, and promised to perform his part faithfully. It was now fully light, and on reaching a lonely spot along the road Sandoff turned the horses aside into the forest. The hood was lifted from the end of the sledge, and while Vera was taking the provisions out of the hamper, Sandoff placed the captive in an upright position and removed the gag from his mouth. The early rays of the sun were now shining into the sledge. As Zamosc surveyed the faces of his companions his eyes gleamed with sudden recognition.

“I know you,” he muttered savagely. “I thought you were all drowned—they told me so at the mines. You will pay dearly for this outrage. You know full well that you can never escape.”

Sandoff turned to him with such ill repressed fury that the traitor’s face grew livid with fear.

“I am glad that you know me, you black hearted scoundrel,” he cried hoarsely. “If I gave you your deserts I should put an end to your life, as I at first intended. But I have changed my mind, and shall be satisfied to make you the instrument of our escape. I don’t intend to part company with you, Zamosc, until we have reached the Pacific, and I warn you now that if at any time you attempt to escape or to endanger us, I will kill you as I would a dog.”

Zamosc made no reply, but a strange look of exultation shone about his little eyes that quite escaped the notice of Sandoff and his companions. A short time later, after gagging the captive and placing him in his nest of rugs, Sandoff took the lines and drove the sledge back to the post road.

During the next two weeks the fugitives traveled rapidly, obtaining relays of horses whenever needed. They met plenty of travelers coming from the opposite direction—merchants, squads of Cossacks, and Russian officers journeying from one post to the other, but Sandoff’s distinguished bearing and appearance, and the presence of Shamarin by his side in Cossack uniform, precluded all possibility of detention or suspicion. Vera and Zamosc were at all times out of sight, the covering of the sledge being kept closely down. Sometimes they bivouacked along the road, building fires for comfort and protection from wild animals. Whenever they chanced to spend a night at a post station all passed off well. The _starosta’s_ wife usually took charge of Vera, who was now known as Madame Gunsburg, and Shamarin kept a close watch over Zamosc, both sleeping in the sledge in the courtyard.

The latter bore his enforced captivity well in spite of the fact that he was constantly bound and gagged—except when food was given him. He stoutly refused to answer any questions, however—especially in regard to the key of the small iron chest found in the sledge. The key was certainly not on Zamosc’s person, and a thorough search of the sledge failed to reveal it.

During the first week of their sledge journey the fugitives covered nearly four hundred miles. But after they left the valley of the Amur and turned southward along the valley of the Ussuri River, the weather changed suddenly—an unusual event at this time of year, for it was but the middle of March—and a thaw began, which speedily turned the post road into a bed of slush and water. This lasted for two whole weeks, making rapid traveling out of the question. At the end of that period Sandoff and his companions found they had covered but one hundred and fifty miles, and were still an equal distance from Vladivostok. They now rarely met travelers, for it was the season of the year when journeying by sledge or wagon is equally impossible, and from present indications it would take them three weeks or a month to cover the brief distance remaining.

But on the last night of March a cheering change came. They were stopping at a post station on the Ussuri, and when Sandoff rose early, as was his wont, and went out into the courtyard to see how Shamarin and Zamosc had fared, he found the air bitterly cold, and the river, which had partly broken up on the previous day, ice bound from bank to bank. The post road, as far as the eye could reach, was smooth, hard and glassy.

No time was lost in starting, and as the fresh relay of horses bounded forward under loose rein, with the sledge trailing lightly behind them, Sandoff turned to his companions and cried exultantly: “Hurra! We are safe! This cold spell won’t last long, but it will be quite sufficient to carry us to Vladivostok—or nearly there, for I have no intention of entering the town. We will make no more stops but push right on, and by tomorrow night we ought to reach our journey’s end.”

At noon a village of some size was reached, Riga by name, and here the passports of the travelers were demanded by a bearded Russian officer who stopped the sledge before the military post in the center of the town.

He glanced over the document with sudden interest, whispering to several companions standing near, and then handed it back to Sandoff.

“If your excellency wishes a good hotel,” he said, “I can direct you to one—or perhaps you would prefer the hospitality of the barracks? The best we have is at your service. Our commander, Colonel Nord, is absent, but will return before evening.”

Sandoff looked doubtfully at the speaker, with a dim suspicion that something was wrong.

“Give my best regards to Colonel Nord,” he said calmly. “Tell him that I am in haste, and must go on to the next station.”

The officer was plainly taken aback by this answer. He looked at Sandoff, and then at his companions, who were no less surprised. From his nest of rugs, deep down in the sledge, Zamosc uttered a faint chuckle that no one heard. Sandoff bowed with dignity to the officer, calmly gathered up the lines, and called to the horses. The sledge moved slowly off, gaining speed with each second, but the sharp command to stop that Sandoff more than half feared did not come.

Vera was on her knees, peeping through a hole in the rear curtain.

“The officer is still standing in the center of the road,” she announced eagerly. “He is talking to his companions, and pointing. Now the Cossacks are coming out of the military post—a dozen of them. People are running from their houses to see what is the matter.”

An interval of silence and suspense, during which the sledge moved rapidly down the street.

“Now the officer has gone back,” continued Vera in a tone of relief, “and the Cossacks are moving away too. Only a few peasants are in sight.”

A moment later the sledge passed into a hollow that concealed the town from view, and when it reached the crest of the next ridge a single Cossack could be seen standing before the military post. As the village receded in the distance the fugitives began to feel more easy.

“I was greatly alarmed for a few seconds,” admitted Sandoff. “The officer evidently expected us to stop, though I have no idea why. It is possible that trouble will come out of this affair yet. If I thought so I would suggest that we abandon the sledge and take to the forest with the horses.”

“Try _him_,” suggested Shamarin with a backward jerk of his arm. “He’ll know all about it.”

Sandoff was favorably impressed with this idea. Handing the lines to his companion, he dropped into the sledge, hauled Zamosc out of the rugs, and took the gag from his mouth.

“You heard our conversation at Riga a few moments ago,” he said sternly. “Don’t try to deny it,” for Zamosc had suddenly assumed an expression of guileless amazement.

“And suppose I did hear it,” he retorted defiantly, “what then?”

“Simply this,” replied Sandoff. “I wish to know, and I intend to know, what it means. It will be to your interest to answer me, for if I find hereafter that we are in danger of recapture I will shoot you without mercy, whereas if we get safely to the coast you will be liberated.”

This plain statement seemed to have an effect on Zamosc.

“Since you take advantage of my helplessness I will tell you,” he said reluctantly. “For more than a year past Colonel Nord, the military commandant at Riga, has been beseeching the authorities at St. Petersburg for a new barracks, and shortly before I began my journey he was notified that I was coming and that I would make an inspection of the building and report on its condition. I hope you are satisfied now.”

He bore Sandoff’s keen glance without flinching. Either he was telling the truth, or he was an adept in the art of lying.

“That certainly seems plausible,” said Sandoff, as he regagged the captive and put him back among the rugs. “Circumstances seem to bear out his story. When I get to the next station I will telegraph back to Colonel Nord that I was compelled to—no, I won’t either. I’ll let matters go as they are. The colonel will be furious with rage, and will open communication with St. Petersburg at once, but by the time he gets any definite answer we shall be out of reach.”

Faster and faster sped the sledge. Mountains and hills, forests and ravines loomed up ahead, shot swiftly by, and faded into the distance. At last far off on the plain a speck appeared, and soon the speck was transformed into a tiny Siberian village—a post house, a military station, a telegraph office, and a few lonely cabins—not more than five or six.

The sun was just sinking into a crimson bed of clouds when the faithful horses entered the little street on a gallop. An instant later they were pulled back on their haunches with foaming nostrils and steaming flanks, as a gate swung suddenly across the road checking further progress. It was directly in front of the little box-like military post that this occurred, and as Sandoff broke into an angry exclamation at the audacity of the deed, an officer came out into the road.

“What do you mean by this?” cried Sandoff angrily.

The man bowed almost to the ground. “Pardon, a thousand pardons, your excellency!” he entreated. “There was no other way—you were going so fast. The noise of the bells would have prevented you from hearing my voice.”

“And now what do you want—my passport?” demanded Sandoff roughly.

“No! No! Your excellency, I beg you not. It is a matter of a different nature. You are the honorable Inspector Serge Zamosc—I am not mistaken on that?”

“Yes, I am he. Go on.”

“Well, your excellency, I have a telegram from Colonel Nord at Riga. He wishes you to remain here until he comes. He has already started.”

“The devil you have!” exclaimed Sandoff blankly. “Well, my good fellow, I am sorry I can’t oblige the colonel. I am in haste to get to Vladivostok, and I really can’t afford to lose so much as an hour. Tell the colonel that a man will come on from Vladivostok in a day or so to look into that little matter of the barracks.”

“I—I am sorry, your excellency,” stammered the officer, “but Colonel Nord will take no denial. He insists that you wait here, and I dare not allow you to proceed.”

It was clear that Inspector Serge Zamosc might be a great man at home in Russia, but here in Eastern Siberia Colonel Nord was a greater.

“Well,” said Sandoff, as he realized the situation and choked down his anger, “I suppose you are only doing your duty. Since Colonel Nord is so importunate I will await his arrival. How soon do you think that will be?”

“In two hours at the most,” replied the officer, “probably less. Until then let me offer you the use of my guard house.”

“Thank you,” replied Sandoff shortly, “I will go to the post station and get supper and order a relay of fresh horses. Colonel Nord will find me there.”

He slowly turned the sledge around and drove into the court yard of the station, which was but a few yards away. The _starosta_ came out to meet the new arrival, rubbing his hands in gleeful anticipation of legitimate robbery.

“You will remain over night, your honor?”

“No,” said Sandoff, “but I want a fresh relay of horses and some refreshment. Attend to these tired beasts first, and when supper is ready let us know. Meanwhile we will remain here.”

The _starosta’s_ cheerful expression faded away, but without more words he unharnessed the horses and led them off to the stable. Sandoff climbed to the ground, followed by Shamarin, and the latter assisted Vera to dismount.

“Well,” said Sandoff, “what do you think of the situation?”

“Unfavorable!” replied Shamarin.

“I don’t agree with you,” exclaimed Vera quickly. “It is vexatious—that is all. If this obstinate Colonel Nord will not be pacified, Victor”—these two had long since dropped all formality of speech—“we’ll have to return to Riga and inspect his barracks—that is, if the colonel’s visit relates to this matter.”

She spoke in a peculiar tone that piqued Sandoff’s curiosity.

“What do you mean?” he asked quickly.

Vera placed her finger to her lips, and glanced toward the sledge.

“I will talk to you later on,” she whispered.

Shamarin did not observe this little bit of byplay. His eyes had been fixed on the ground, and now he looked up and said uneasily, “It would be better to escape if possible. One can’t predict what may come of this visit.”

“I rather agree with you,” replied Sandoff. He walked to the courtyard gate, looked out for a moment, and then came slowly back.

“Escape is impossible,” he said. “Two Cossacks are standing at the western end of the street, and the gate before the military post is still closed and guarded.”

The _starosta_ now appeared with the news that supper was waiting, so Sandoff and Vera entered the house, leaving Shamarin with the sledge, and promising to send him out some food.

Vera and her companion felt little desire to eat as they sat down at opposite sides of the table. The post room was quite empty, and they could talk without being overheard.

“Vera, what do you wish to tell me?” asked Sandoff, as he poured a cup of tea from the samovar.

“Nothing,” she replied. “At least, nothing definite. I have only a vague suspicion.”

“Of what?”

“Of the contents of that iron chest. I believe that Serge Zamosc invented the story he told us about Colonel Nord, and I believe that the chest, if opened, would enlighten us somewhat. I can’t tell you why I think so, unless it is because Zamosc has been smiling to himself all day long and turning his eyes in the direction of the chest, when he thought he was unobserved.”

Sandoff did not reply for a moment. He ate a few mouthfuls of food, and then rose from the table.

“Your suggestion is worth acting upon,” he said. “I intend to get that chest open—by force if necessary, though I will make another short search for the key.”

They passed out into the courtyard, the gate of which was already closed for the night. Sandoff climbed into the sledge—to Shamarin’s surprise—and hauling Zamosc to an upright position began a thorough search of his clothing. It proved unsuccessful, and Sandoff was about to desist when a sudden inspiration struck him. Dropping Zamosc on his back he drew off his right boot. When Sandoff shook it something rattled, and placing his hand inside he drew out a small iron key.

“At last!” he exclaimed. “Why did I not think of that before?”

“Hold on,” said Shamarin. “I will tell the _starosta_ that we have lost something in the straw, and will borrow a lighted lantern from him.”

He went off in haste, and meanwhile Sandoff put his captive back among the rugs and covered him up completely.

Shamarin returned in a moment, bringing the lantern, and handed it to Sandoff. The latter drew the side and rear curtains of the sledge tightly down and placed the lantern on one of the trunks, while Vera dragged the iron chest from its place of concealment in the straw.

The key fitted the lock, and with a trembling hand Sandoff raised the lid.

A simultaneous cry of amazement issued from his and Vera’s lips. The chest was more than half full of bank notes and stacks of gold coin. On the top of them lay a folded paper. Sandoff was as pale as ashes as he lifted this and glanced at its contents.

“That scoundrel Zamosc has deceived us,” he cried hoarsely. “But for you, Vera, we should be lost. This paper explains it all. The government took advantage of Serge Zamosc’s journey of prison inspection to appoint him paymaster and send him on to Vladivostok with the annual salaries of the East Siberian officials. Here is the list of names. It commences with Colonel Nord, at Riga, 5,000 rubles, and, with the exception of two points along the way, the others are in Vladivostok. No wonder that the colonel is anxious to see me. He must have been apprised of Zamosc’s visit beforehand. When he arrives I will pay him the money, make suitable apologies, and then we will resume our journey. Help me to carry this money into the post room. That will be the proper place for the interview with the colonel.”

The two men conveyed the chest into the house between them, groaning not a little under its ponderous weight, and then, leaving Vera to take charge of it, Shamarin returned to the sledge, while Sandoff hunted up the _starosta_ and ordered glasses and a bottle of wine to be taken into the post room.

“I expect a visitor in a short time,” he said, “and as I may be delayed with him longer than I expect I want you to put fresh horses into my sledge at once. What do I owe you for your services?”

The _starosta_ named an exorbitant figure, but Sandoff paid it without demur, and then waited in the courtyard until the three spirited horses were harnessed.

He now went back into the post room, and sent Vera out to the sledge, with instructions to draw the covering tightly and remain inside. Then he paced up and down the room for probably half an hour, glancing through the window from time to time into the courtyard.

All at once a ringing clatter of hoofs was heard that came nearer with every second, and a moment later the sound of voices and a loud call for the _starosta_ apprised Sandoff that the horsemen had entered the yard. He glanced cautiously through the window, and could dimly make out five mounted figures—Colonel Nord and his escort, beyond a doubt.

Leaving the window after the first hasty glance, Sandoff threw up the lid of the chest, placed the paper on the table before him, lit a cigar, and seated himself comfortably in a chair. He had hardly done so when the door was thrown open, and the _starosta_ entered, followed by a large red faced man in full uniform.

“Colonel Nord, your excellency,” he stammered, backing out of the room and closing the door.

The colonel was unmistakably surprised at sight of Sandoff. He hesitated a moment, and then, catching sight of the chest of money, bowed in a formal manner.

Sandoff held out his hand.

“I am glad to see you, Colonel Nord. I owe you an apology for my seemingly strange conduct this morning, and beg you will accept my explanation——”

The colonel’s brow grew dark, and he glared at Sandoff under his bushy eyebrows.

“Sir, I wish to see Inspector Zamosc,” he thundered. “_You are not the man!_”

For an instant Sandoff could only stare at his visitor in hopeless confusion. Here was a contingency that had never entered his head.

“What does this mean?” continued the colonel fiercely. “Is the inspector afraid to meet me in person? Does he forget having made my acquaintance in Petersburg last summer, that he attempts to palm off a substitute upon me? I refuse to treat with you. I will not touch a cent of that money, unless Inspector Zamosc counts it out with his own hand. Where is he? I demand to see him.”

The irate colonel started for the door, and would have rushed out to the sledge had not Sandoff checked him in time.

“Stop just a moment, Colonel Nord, and hear my explanation,” he entreated. “It is true that I am not Inspector Zamosc—I am merely his assistant. It was through a sad error that the inspector drove through Riga this morning without stopping. He has now begged me to see you in his stead and plead sickness as an excuse for his absence. He is out in the sledge, but if you insist upon seeing him I will summon him.”

“Yes, I do insist upon seeing him,” the colonel replied with a grim smile. “There are various private matters that must be discussed. Tell the inspector that he needn’t be afraid of me,” he added with a short chuckle.

“I will deliver your message,” replied Sandoff calmly. “Kindly excuse me while I go to summon the inspector. You will find cigars and wine on the table.”

“I had better accompany you,” said Colonel Nord jocosely. “The inspector might take fright and run away. When he sees that I am not in a violent rage he will be reassured.”

As he spoke he preceded his companion to the door. For a moment Sandoff thought all was lost, but a idea occurred to him just in time.

“Beg pardon, colonel!” he exclaimed. “But all that money—would it be safe to leave it here alone?”

“Ah, no, quite right!” muttered the colonel, glancing greedily at the chest. “I will remain here. Be quick, though, for I must return to Riga as soon as possible.”

Sandoff left the room with a firm step and composed bearing, but nevertheless his brain was fairly bursting with the intensity of his thoughts. He had but one idea—the necessity of making an immediate and desperate dash for liberty.

The game was up. Just inside the door stood the four Cossacks who formed Colonel Nord’s escort. They were laughing and talking boisterously, and Sandoff noted with satisfaction that the _starosta_ had taken away their horses—probably to be fed and watered. Here was one danger out of the way. The sledge stood where he had left it, facing the road, and the gates were wide open, the _starosta_ having neglected to close them after Colonel Nord’s entry. Another favorable circumstance!

Sandoff calmly untied the strap that held the horses to the gate post. Then he turned and slowly mounted the seat beside Shamarin. Even in the dim light the marble pallor of his face was visible, and his companions were quick to scent danger.

“Something has happened,” said Vera. “What is it, Victor?”

“Hush!” said Sandoff in a voice that they hardly recognized. “Not so loud! All is lost and discovery is inevitable. Prepare the firearms for use. All depends now on getting clear of the village.”

He gathered up the lines and Shamarin touched the horses with the whip. They trotted out of the yard, the circlet of bells making merry music over their heads, and turned up the street on a gallop.

“Those accursed bells!” muttered Sandoff. “Why did I not take them off?”

Then he fiercely jerked the horses to a standstill as the military post loomed in view, with the barred gate stretching from side to side across the road.

The officer who had stopped them before came out with a lantern.

“Open the gate,” demanded Sandoff. “I am in haste, and must make up for lost time.”

The man hesitated. “Have you seen Colonel Nord already, your excellency? He came but a moment or two ago.”

“Certainly, you blockhead!” roared Sandoff, losing control of himself. “Else why should I be here? Open that gate instantly!”

The officer was cowed by this determined attitude, and moved forward with the evident intention of obeying; but before he could take three steps a door was heard to slam violently, and from the post yard came a volley of shouts and curses, delivered in Colonel Nord’s high pitched voice. Then followed answering cries, and a quick running of feet over the frozen snow.

The officer halted, and looked keenly at the occupants of the sledge. Then he called “Guard! guard!” in a shrill voice.

“Hold firm,” whispered Shamarin. “There’s only one way—I’ll do it—stand by me.”

With a leap he was on the ground, and running toward the gate, where stood a single Cossack. As he passed the officer the latter whipped out his sword, and started in pursuit. Sandoff caught the gleam of steel, and, leaning from the seat, whip in hand, he dealt the fellow so terrific a blow on the arm that he dropped the weapon and howled with pain. Shamarin reached the gate and was confronted by the burly soldier before it, rifle in hand. There was no time for parleying. Shamarin dodged under the Cossack’s rifle and flung the fellow to one side of the road, where he lay stunned in the snow and ice. Then he dashed furiously at the gate—which was fortunately not locked—and by a single blow knocked it half way back on its hinges.

It was now Sandoff’s turn. Swinging his whip overhead, he brought it down smartly on the horses. The spirited brutes plunged madly forward, and he urged them with hoarse shouts to still greater speed. As they dashed through the gateway, Shamarin regained his seat by a flying leap.

The whole affair had consumed but a few seconds. Before the Cossacks could realize the audacity of the deed, the sledge and its occupants were whizzing away into the night at a rate of speed that had seldom been equaled on the great Siberian road.

The officer picked up his sword with his uninjured arm, and swore and yelled alternately until he was hoarse. The vanquished Cossack rose to his feet, and idiotically jerked the gate shut with a bang. The others ran for their horses and mounted in hot haste—and in the midst of all the confusion up clattered Colonel Nord and his escort, bawling at the top of their voices.

“Idiot! Blockhead!” the colonel roared at the terrified officer. “You will pay dearly for this! Why did you let those scoundrels through? Open that gate at once—send after me all the men you have—telegraph to the next station. Do you hear me?”

Then, as the gate swung back, the irate colonel and his squad of armed Cossacks—now increased to nine—galloped madly through, and went pounding along the frosty road in hot chase of the fugitive sledge.