It is intended for him. Those are the instructions."
"I shall not," was his reply as he placed the box in his pocket. "If one has it, so shall the other. The German advance will be made all the more easy by the removal of both of them. I----"
Footsteps sounded outside, and the sergeant appeared an instant later; hence we were compelled to separate after exchanging farewells as good brothers would.
Back to Minsk I drove rapidly, and two hours later was in an ambulance train on my way to Petrograd, full of wonder as to what was happening at Gorodok.
Peter Tchernine, spy of Germany, had no doubt mixed the contents of that tiny tube with the powdered sugar served to the general and his Imperial guest.
Standing alone at the end of a long ambulance carriage, I leaned out of the window, breathing the fresh air of the open plain. We were running beside a lake, the water of which came up close to the rails. Here was my opportunity.
I took a tin matchbox from my pocket and flung it as far as I could into the water.
Then I returned to my seat, my heart lighter, for at last I had saved the life of our dear general, and also that of His Majesty, for, truth to tell, what I had given Peter Tchernine was only a little tube of French chalk made up to resemble that brought so secretly from Berlin.
On reporting to Rasputin next day, he rubbed his hands with delight. I, of course, did not tell him of the Emperor"s peril.
Next day he, however, came to me in a state of high indignation.
"The fool Tchernine has blundered, just as Sawvitch did!" he cried.
"Brusiloff still lives and is continuing the offensive. Did he not promise to use the tube?"
"He certainly did," I a.s.sured the monk. "He was filled with satisfaction that he would be able thus to help the Fatherland."
"In any case he has failed!" said the "holy" man. "Not only that, but the plot against Korniloff has also failed. What shall I reply to Berlin?
What will they say?"
"Has the girl Nada Tsourikoff failed us, then?" I asked eagerly.
"Yes," he replied in a hard, deep tone. "The little fool apparently had no courage. It failed her at the last moment--or----"
"Or what?"
"Or somebody knew the truth and threatened exposure."
"Why?"
"Because she was found dead yesterday morning at the Grand Hotel at Dvinsk, having broken the tube and taken some of its contents in her tea.
A pity, too, Feodor, for she might have been so very useful." Then he added: "Bah! it is always the same with women, their courage fails them at the last moment! No. It is men--men like yourself, Feodor--that we want. The failure at Minsk is, however, very strange. We must inquire into Tchernine"s actions and report fully to the Koniggratzerstra.s.se.
Otherwise I shall once again be blamed. Surely I did my best--and so did you!"
CHAPTER XII
RASPUTIN AND THE KAISER
THE secret visit of Rasputin to Berlin and his second audience with the Kaiser were stoutly denied at the time, but as I accompanied the "saint"
upon his adventurous journey I am in a position to know the exact facts.
He, dressed as a Dutch pastor, and calling himself Pastor van Meuwen, and I, calling myself Koster, arrived at a small quiet hotel called the Westfalischer-Hof, in the Neustadische-stra.s.se, on the north of the Linden. We had travelled by way of Helsingfors, Stockholm, and Hamburg, Rasputin being bearer of letters from the Tsaritza to the Kaiser and Kaiserin, a.s.suring them of her continued good wishes and her efforts to secure a German conquest.
Hardly had we been in the rather dismal hotel an hour when a waiter introduced into our private sitting-room, where I stood alone, a tall, dark, middle-aged man, who clicked his heels as he bowed elegantly before me.
Smiling, and without uttering a word, my visitor handed me half of a plain visiting-card that had been roughly torn across, after I had scribbled my signature across the back. From my cigarette-case I took the other half, and placing them together, ascertained that they fitted. The torn portion that the Baron von Hausen--for that was his name, I learnt--had handed to me had been conveyed to Berlin by Hardt a month before, in order that we might repose confidence in any person who called upon us and bore it as the credential of the Koniggratzerstra.s.se.
My visitor was a pleasant, shrewd-eyed man, well dressed and wearing a fine diamond in his black cravat, who, when he had seated himself at my invitation, glanced to see if the door was closed, and then exclaimed:
"Well, Herr Koster, I trust that the Father and yourself have had a comfortable journey."
"Quite," I replied. "But, of course, it is a very roundabout route."
"I expected you two days ago," said the baron, who at that moment rose at the entry of Rasputin and greeted him.
The appearance of the monk in Berlin was very different from the figure he presented in Petrograd. His hair and beard had been trimmed, he had washed, and in his clerical garb he looked a typical Dutch pastor.
I introduced the pair, whereupon the baron said:
"His Majesty the Emperor wishes you to come to Potsdam at four o"clock to-morrow afternoon. You are to meet the Chancellor."
To this the monk agreed, saying in his halting German:
"It is not the first time I have been received by His Majesty. I shall bring Feodor."
"As you wish. But I question if His Majesty will allow him to be present at the audience."
"In that case, Baron, tell His Majesty that I shall not come," remarked the "saint" bluntly. "His Majesty the Tsar permits the presence of my secretary, therefore why should your Emperor object? Give him that message," he said, adding: "I have little time to spare here in Berlin, and am returning to Petrograd almost at once."
The Baron von Hausen demurred, but Rasputin insisted on his message being given to the Kaiser.
Then, when our visitor had left, the monk helped himself to a stiff gla.s.s of brandy, and laughing said:
"The only way to treat these Germans is with dignity, Feodor. I want you to note all he says and translate the most important into Russian for me. Why does Bethmann-Hollweg want to be present, I wonder?"
"To advise the Kaiser, no doubt."
"About what? I will deal with His Majesty himself, and n.o.body else," he snapped.
Even while we were discussing the situation another caller came, a German, also dressed as a pastor, who gave the name of Schwa.s.s. In a moment Rasputin, recognising him, locked the door and, turning quickly, asked in Russian:
"Well, how do things go? You are not suspected?"
"Not in the least," was the reply of the man, who had been an agent of the Russian Secret Police, and who was now a spy living in Berlin under a clerical guise.
"You have a letter for me, I believe, Father, from the Minister Protopopoff, have you not?" he asked.
I unlocked the small attache case and from among a number of other letters which we had brought from Russia was one in a plain envelope addressed to the Pastor Wilhelm Schwa.s.s.