The Prince of Balkistan

Front matter

a BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Crown Svo, cloth extra, %s. 6d. ; post Svo, future boards, zs. THE QUEEN AGAINST OWEN ** An unmistakable success. Regarded simply as a story, we have not for a long while read anything more intensely dramatic. It would compel notice for the mere manner of its telling. Not often has an author, who has boldly departed from the traditional lines of the writer of fiction, so completely vindicated his method. There is high quality in this book, with its vivid glimpses of life, and its clever characterization. . . . Altogether, a notable book ; and if its popularity be at all commensurate with its merits, it will have a great vogue." — Sun. 11 The narrative never flags. ... A realistic representation of a criminal trial." — Athenœitvi. "Lovers of exciting fiction, powerful, original, and dramatic, should read ' The Queen against Owen.' Narrative after narra tive, somewhat in the Wilkie Collins manner, draws you on until the mystery that surrounds the crime — which remains a mystery almost to the very end — disappears, and then you draw a breath of relief: but not before." — Sj>or ting Life London: CHATTO & WlNDUS, Piccadilly.

BY ALLEN UPWARD AUTHOR OF "THE QUEEN AGAINST OWEN," ETC. Sontion CHATTO & WlNDUS, PICCADILLY 189S TO JUDGE GWILYM WILLIAMS WITH THE AUTHOK'S ESTEEM AND 1IEGABD CONTENTS. CHAPTER: PAGE Prologue : The Two Horsemen ... ... ... 1 I. A Narrow Escape ... ... ... ... 8 II. Princess Claudine's Plot... ... ... ... 23 III. A Declaration of War ... ... ... 42 IV. Ezeejel P. Baxter ... ... ... ... 57 V. Cui Bono? ... ... ... ... ... 73 VI. The Bishop of Sufarest ... ... ... ... 91 VII. The Foreign Detective ... ... ... 109 VIII. The Search ... ... ... ... ... 129 IX. The Czar of Russia ... ... ... ... 145 X. M. Tataroff ... ... ... ... ... 165 XL The Struggle begins ... ... ... 182 XII. The Struggle continues ... ... ... ... 199 XIII. Third Stage of the Struggle ... ... 217 XIV. The Struggle draws to an End ... ... ... 234 XV. Deliverance ... ... ... ... 253 Epilogue ... ... ... ... ...

Prologue

. THE TWO HORSEMEN. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, with his eyeballs set in the fixed stare of one who escapes for his life from some mortal peril, his head sunk down npon his breast, and a shadow upon his forehead like the shadow of death, a man arose and fled, gallop ing northward through the night from the city of Sufarest. He rode furiously, brutally, striking the spurs into his horse's flanks again and again, without reason, as if he tasted some wild relief in feeling the terrified brute plunge and tremble beneath him ; as if it soothed him to find that there was something still left that feared him, something on which he could glut the silent rage that gnawed his heart. Soon the lights of the city lay behind him. The last straggling houses of the suburb were past, and he dashed out upon the open highway.

He hardly noted the change. Blind to everything around him, except the one white patch of road just in front of his horse's head, he flew on, as though he knew that E the danger which encompassed him was vast as the horizon, and dark as the night itself. Hour after hour he rode at the same fierce speed. The stars came out ; the moon rose, glided across a corner of the sky, and disappeared. The lights in the lonely huts and villages along the road went out one by one at midnight, and were rekindled one by one at dawn. He noticed nothing. The tall trees swept and shuddered past him in his flight, as he skirted the edge of some gloomy forest, or crossed the beds of chilly, rock-bound streams. Only when some fork divided the straight wide road in two did he glance upward for a moment at the stars, and then, choosing most often the right-hand branch, pressed on as blindly as before.

When, with the first grey of dawn, the horse, worn out and bleeding, gave its last leap and fell beneath him, he regained his feet with a harsh laugh, and kicked the dying brute savagely in its expiring gasps. His flight was not interrupted for long. It was only necessary to walk on — nay, better to run — a few hundred paces to the nearest farm stead, and fling down a handful of gold for another mount. He left the first lying in its blood upon the road. The pursuit he feared was not from behind, then ? Rather did it seem no corporeal, tangible pursuer that he fled before, but some all-embracing peril, more cruel from the very uncertainty of the quarter whence it was to come, more appaUing from the mystery that shrouded its advance. So he remounted and rode on all through the next day. He carried nothing with him, save the money that THE TWO HOESEMEN. 3 was to provide him with the means of salvation.

He had made no preparations, packed neither bag nor wallet, but started forth in one swift impulse of sudden fear, taking to this strange flight with the old, wild instinct of the Tartar, when he sets forth through the wilderness to place a hundred leagues between him and the camp of his enemy, between sunrise and sunrise. Before noon he found himself on the banks of the great world-famous river which formed the boundary of two kingdoms. There was a ferry at this point, and man and horse embarked upon the low, clumsy, raft-like vessel, and were carried tediously across the broad flood. Arrived at the other side the man remounted once more, and with unslackened speed resumed his desperate progress. And just an hour after the first horseman had passed on his way, the old ferryman was aware of a second, who came along the same road, riding as fast, though not so furiously — a man whose face, instead of the pallor and wildness of fear, wore the cold grim impassiveness of the judge.

He too demanded to be transported to the other side, and, when he had been landed there, rode on relentlessly at the same unchanging speed. Through the day and through the night, keeping ever behind the first horseman on the same road, stopping at the same places that he stopped at, taking food and drink where he had taken them, renewing horses as often as he renewed them, and keeping ever just one hour behind him, rode the second. Steady as time, certain as fate, he followed on, making no attempt to come up with the fugitive, THE PRINCE OP BALKISTAN. 4 never for an instant allowing the fugitive to gain one mile on him. Days pass in this strange chase. A kingdom is crossed. Towns and villages follow one another along the route like toy towns and villages ; the great distances of common life are swallowed up in this overwhelming race ; rivers and mountains sink into milestones beside the path of the two horsemen as they sweep on.

In the daytime they meet with many other travellers upon the roads. They overtake many going in the same direction. But no one overtakes them. Occasionally some beggar, more resolute than common, makes an attempt to stop the first horse man, and is rewarded by a curse. But no beggar asks the second horseman for an alms. Sometimes a greeting is shouted at the first horse man as he rushes past. He never stays to answer. But the greeting dies upon the lips of those who look in the face of the second horseman, and he rides on in silence. And now they are drawing near to another frontier, beyond which lies the huge extent of the great Russian realm. In those dominions their progress is likely to be less easy. For this is the land of secrecy, a land given over to the government of spies, where men walk abroad in doubt and heaviness, shackled by invisible chains, and the actions of all are watched by keen suspicious eyes.

For this is the land where the great volcano of the Revolution groans and seethes beneath the surface, and the whole forces of the Government are devoted to trampling down the embers of sedition, and for every plot there is a THE TWO HOE SEMEN. 5 counterplot, and no man knows what a day may bring forth. Yet none the less the two horsemen speed forward, and neither slackens his pace. When the frontier is crossed, the horseman in advance seems to take a fresh resolution. He turns his horse's head to the eastward, racing frantically across the vast breadth of Southern Russia. Here on the great plains the wind is cold, and the nights are sharply spiked with frost. Not for this does either pursued or pursuer draw rein. League after league, with only such brief rests as nature cannot go without, the black silent provinces are spanned and left behind.

If the first horseman begins to flag, if his aching limbs fail him for a moment, and he is obliged to dismount and snatch a short interval of sleep, the second horseman dismounts as well, takes exactly the same spell of rest, and then resumes his seat in the saddle and keeps up at the same fixed interval as before. Now the way has to be picked with caution. They pass through no great towns. In the villages they make a stir and a commotion. The people run out of their houses to see the first horseman pass, and gaze and chatter to each other about the sight. But when the second horseman passes they go back into their houses without speaking, and close and bar the doors. From time to time men in uniform are encountered, agents of the all-pervading Government across whose territories they speed their course.

These men show a disposition to stop them, and inquire into their errand. To such inquiries the first horseman has a ready answer. A spoken word, backed up by a coin of silver or of gold, carries him past every obstacle like the magic syllable in Eastern tales. Then when an hour has passed these same officials are sure to be overtaken by another horseman, of graver, steadier mien, keeping up swiftly in the track of the first. When questioned, he too has his magic password. A whisper from him, sometimes accom panied by a sign, is enough. Whole provinces do not contain one man daring enough to step between him who flies and him who pursues. The White Terror finds itself confronted with the Black Terror, and recoils. Again days pass away without a check in this mad ride. At last they are drawing near to the eastern con fines of Russia.

For the first time a look of doubt crosses the face of him who rides behind. Is the man in front of him about to plunge beyond into the inhospitable deserts of Tartary; to seek a refuge among the farthest Asiatic hordes ? Away beyond the frontier stretch rough tracks, only marked by the distant posting stations, in those wide belts of many hundred miles into which the railroad has not yet advanced its iron foot. But as he nears the beginning of one of these desert routes, the first horseman begins to break down. He has ridden, not too fast, but too fiercely for his strength. The last day he spends in the saddle he keeps swaying and falling, and in the evening he pulls up on reaching a small posting village, and dismounts. He asks if a vehicle and horses can be had, to take him on at once, and finding that they can, he puts a pistol to the head of his twentieth used-up horse.

THE TWO HOESEMEN. 7 An hour after, the postmaster is astonished by the arrival of a second stranger, who makes the same demand. The postmaster is unable to supply him, and he tells him he must stay till the arrival of horses from another stage. The stranger dismounts and sits down quietly to wait. The ride is over. They have been on horseback, with a few short breaks, for more than a fortnight, and have covered sixteen hundred miles. It is time to tell the story of these two men, and of how they came to ride this race, and also of its end.

Chapter I

A NARROW ESCAPE. It was a gorgeous spectacle. The capital of Bal kistan was given up to enthusiasm. From every window of the houses waved draperies and banners, scarlet and purple and gold ; lofty arches, festooned with bright devices in flowers, and lettered with festive mottoes, crossed the main streets ; and the roadways underneath were hidden by moving crowds clad in the bright picturesque dress of the country, and brandishing innumerable ornamented weapons whose presence on such an occasion betokened a region that had hardly yet taken its place in the family of civilized nations. The sound of bells came from churches whose white cupolas showed out boldly beside the silent minarets of the deserted mosques, and ever and anon the loud blare of trumpets and the crash of drums and cymbals broke out and drowned the voices of the bells, to be drowned in turn by the huzzas from ten thousand throats at once, as the rejoicing population gave vent to their triumph in their country's freedom.

The flags waved thickest, and the scimitars and spears glinted brightest, and the music and the shouts swelled in loftiest volume, where, in an open carriage drawn by six magnificent steeds, a young man, bareheaded, A NARROW ESCAPE. 9 came slowly down the principal thoroughfare of Sufarest, with a proud smile upon his handsome face, as he acknowledged with repeated bows the cheers which broke out at every step of his triumphal progress. Beside him, sharing to the full in the exhilaration of the scene, sat a lady, whose older aspect and the looks of fond admiration which she turned upon him from time to time, clearly proclaimed her to be his mother. On the seat facing them was the only other occupant of the carriage, resplendent in the rich episcopal robes of his Church, who threw cold glances over the faces of the crowd, as he went along, and kept nervously smoothing his long grey beard.

It was the state progress of Prince Rodolph, the new ruler of Balkistan, from the building in which he had just opened the Deputschin, the National Assembly of the Balkiards, to his palace, where the ministers and principal deputies were to be feasted in honour of the event. Behind the carriage in which he rode with his mother, the Princess Claudine, and Monsignor Stefan, Metropolitan Bishop of Sufa rest, came a long train of other carriages, containing M. Karkchulov, the Prime Minister, and other members of the Cabinet and important functionaries of State. The procession was escorted in front and rear by the picked troops of the Balkiard army, who had already won their spurs on one pitched field, and the sight of whose uniforms roused the popular enthusiasm to the highest pitch. Suddenly, just as the royal carriage was passing under a triumphal arch embroidered with the names " Rodolph " and " Balkistan " in gaily coloured THE PRINCE OF BALKISTAN. 10 ribbons, a warning voice rang out in sharp, horror breathing tones — " Murder !

" The cry was instantly taken up and repeated by a score of surrounding throats ; it swelled into an angry roar, and went thundering down the great avenue. But swiftly as the word was thus echoed, it had been followed yet more swiftly by the fierce crack of a pistol-shot. At the very moment that the horrified bystanders caught sight of a gleaming barrel pointed in the direction of the Prince, they saw the puff of smoke which told that the assassin had fired. Fortunately for Rodolph, that first startled cry was just in time to reach the man's ears before his fingers had drawn the trigger. It gave him an unexpected shock, and the momentary unsteadiness that resulted caused his hand to swerve, only a hair's-breadth, it is true, but, at the distance at which his victim was, the hair's-breadth became three inches, and the bullet which would otherwise have brought death entered the back of the carriage immediately behind the Prince's left ear.

Before there was time to empty another barrel a dozen hands had been stretched out to seize the weapon, and the man who held it was being shaken like a rat in the grasp of the furious crowd. It would be idle to pretend that Prince Rodolph displayed no agitation at this frightful incident. He turned pale, and trembled for an instant ; the next moment he had conquered the signs of weakness and turned anxiously towards his mother. With the courage of her race — she was a princess of the dispossessed royal house of France — she was striving A NARROW ESCAPE. 11 to battle with the emotion which shook her through and through. A cry of terror had been stifled on her lips at the sight of the pistol-flash. She now clutched the cushions of the carriage till her knuckles turned white, in the effort to suppress any further symptom of alarm.

Satisfied by a look that her son was unhurt, her sole thought now was to prevent the affair from creating a disagreeable impression and dispelling the joy of the national festival. The mother and son were worthy of one another, and both had learned that stern self-suppression whose necessity hes upon the great. Their companion, in spite of his reverend years and ecclesiastical training, exhibited more excitement than either of them. At the discharge of the pistol he had half risen from his seat, staring strangely at the Prince. On perceiving that Rodolph had come off scathless from the attempt, the Bishop sank down again upon his seat, and began with much agitation of manner to pour out his congratu lations on the providential escape. While he did so he suffered his eye to glance in the direction of the would-be murderer, as if to ascertain what had become of him.

Such was also the impulse of the Prince, as soon as he had exchanged looks of mutual reassurance with his mother. The sight they beheld was well calculated to restore the Prince's confidence in his people's loyalty, and it was not surprising if it caused the shudder which passed over the priest. The crowd had closed with a fierce rush upon the firer of the revolver, one man had seized him by the throat, others had gripped his arms, and a shower of blows and kicks was descending on him from all sides. Every member of the throng, THE PEINCE OF BALKISTAN. 12 in fact, who thought himself near enough to reach the prisoner, was aiming savagely in his direction, and those who could not get within arm's length were thrusting at him with their knives and the stocks of their guns. He had already been forced down on one knee, and it was evident that, unless some help arrived at once, the man would lose his life in a manner more dreadful than that in which he had prepared to take the life of another.

As it happened, owing to the nature of the occasion, there was a considerable force within easy reach. Before the mob had had time to push its vengeance to a fatal limit, therefore, a formidable squad of the newly organized police of Sufarest had split the crowd in two like a wedge, enclosed the prisoner in their midst, and carried him off, followed by the hoots and curses of the populace. Meanwhile the royal procession, which had halted for a few moments, resumed its way, and went on, accompanied by the volleying cheers of the spectators, to the Prince's palace. There was no room for mis take as to the feelings of the people towards their ruler. Evidently he was admired and deeply beloved by them, and his escape from the recent deadly peril served to intensify the heartiness of their greetings.

Again and again the carriage was nearly brought to a standstill by the throngs whose enthusiasm led them to press round it for a glimpse of their hero, as he smiled and bowed more cordially than ever. At last, on arriving at the palace gate, he stood up in the carriage and made a final gracious acknowledg ment of the good-will of his subjects. There was a last cheer, louder than any that had gone before, and the Prince was hidden from their sight. A NAEEOW ESCAPE. 13 The vehicle rolled up to the broad flight of steps, down which a crimson carpet had been spread, and the Prince dismounted, still with the same pleased and courageous expression on his face which it had worn throughout the ride. He stopped and assisted the Princess to alight, and then, without waiting for Monsignor Stefan, passed hastily into the palace.

He traversed the state-rooms without stopping, entered his private cabinet, and closed and locked the door. As he did so a great change passed over his countenance. The smile vanished like a veil which had done its work, and left behind a look of rage, of horror, it might almost be added, of dread. Such, at least, was the impression conveyed to the mind of the only spectator, a young man of about the Prince's own age, who had been seated in the cabinet at his entrance, and had risen respectfully to welcome him. " Halstein — do you know — have you heard ? " were Prince Rodolph's first words, which broke from him in jerks, as he dropped heavily into an armchair. " No ! Surely nothing has gone wrong, sir ? " exclaimed the private secretary, for such he was. He was more ; he was the fellow-countryman and trusted friend of Prince Rodolph, whom he had accompanied from his native land on the Prince accepting the throne of Balkistan.

Count Halstein was a little dark man, with a thoughtful cast of countenance. He had not been present at the ceremony of the opening of the Deputschin, for his master, anxious to avoid wounding the national susceptibilities of the Balkiards, kept his fellow countryman out of sight as much as possible. THE PRINCE OF BALKISTAN. 14 " I have been shot at. Another inch, and I should have been — " A shudder completed the sentence. " God in Heaven ! How terrible ! And by whom ? And why, — if I may ask ? " "It is easier for you to ask than for me to answer." And Rodolph briefly described what had occurred. The secretary was deeply excited. " Pray Heaven this may be the work of a lunatic ! " he observed. " You have done nothing to reproach yourself with. You have not forfeited your popularity.' ' "I am more popular than ever," replied the Prince; "more popular, that is, with the people of Balkistan, though not with those who assume to rule her destinies against her own will."

Count Halstein glanced uneasily and questioningly at the Prince. His glance was returned by one of deep significance. "At all events, this affair must be sifted to the bottom," he remarked. " The police must leave no stone unturned." " I will sift it to the bottom." Prince Rodolph had risen, and was rapidly pacing up and down the room. "But not with the aid of the Sufarest police. I must have some one that I can trust more implicitly than any of these people that surround me. Whom can I be sure of ? The very Ministry is rotten. The Metropolitan is my enemy. I am enclosed by traitors on all sides, from the moment I step outside this room." The secretary looked grave. " We must see what the man who aimed at you has to say for himself," he said, slowly and cautiously. " If he should prove to be a Russian — " He did not conclude his sentence, and both men A NAEBOW ESCAPE. 15 remained plunged in a gloomy meditation, from which they were only aroused by a knock at the door of the room.

As the Count moved towards the door to open it, Rodolph held up a warning finger. "Not a word before any of the Ministers," he whispered. " I trust no one now except my mother — and you." Halstein bowed gratefully, and unfastened the door. A messenger was outside, who announced that the head of the Ministry, M. Karkchulov, was in waiting. " Ask him to come here," commanded Prince Rodolph. The lackey withdrew, and presently returned, usher ing in the Prime Minister of Balkistan. " You are welcome, M. Karkchulov. Sit down. Do you bring me any information about that wretched man?" "He is outside, your Highness. I caused him to be brought here at once, instead of being examined at the police bureau, in order that you might be satisfied that, so far as we are concerned, there is no desire for anything but the most open and thorough investigation."

"You are very considerate. As the object of the attack, I naturally feel more concerned in the matter than anybody else ; but I should not like you to suppose that I doubt for a moment the sincere devotion of my friends, and particularly of my Ministers." M. Karkchulov bowed, then glanced at Count Halstein, who sat retired in one corner, and replied— " On behalf of my colleagues and myself, I thank your Highness for your expressions of confidence." He threw a slight emphasis on the word expressions. " Yet we cannot but feel that we, who are so recently known to you, can hardly hope to occupy such a favourable place in your trust as if we had been always fellow-countrymen of your own." Prince Rodolph frowned. " Sir," he answered, "it would be absurd for me to pretend that I do not understand your meaning.

But I do not think you render justice to my position. I have come here, as everybody knows, at no slight personal risk. The unsettled state of the country, the fate of my predecessor, — above all, the open denial of my right to the sovereignty by the Czar of Russia, makes my position one of great difficulty. lam in a country that is new to me, and among men whom as yet I have had no opportunity of testing. I am surrounded, as you well know, by spies ; and even, as you must admit after to-day, by assassins. These men are either Balkiards or Russians disguised as such. Some of the members of the Deputschin itself are in the service of Russia, they look for reward to the Czar, they aim at turning Balkistan into a Russian province, and, whether they succeed or fail, the Czar is able to receive them in their flight, or to extend diplomatic protection to them even in the very hands of my police.

Is it to be wondered at that I find a comfort in the presence of a native of my own country, who cannot possibly be under any temptation to desert me, and whom, as you have observed, I have known for many years ? No, M. Karkchulov; as long as the interests of Balkistan are concerned I shall consult you, and A NAEEOW ESCAPE. 17 you alone ; but in a matter affecting my personal safety, you must permit me to avail myself of the services of my private friend." "Your Highness is right. I admit the justice of what you have said, and I thank you for your condescension in explaining your views. I trust that you and Count Halstein will put anything I have said down to my zeal for your Highness's own interests." Prince Rodolph acknowledged this speech with a bow, and then, stepping forward, by a happy impulse drew his arm familiarly through that of the Minister.

" Come, M. Karkchulov, we will go and see your prisoner. Halstein, you too." The three proceeded together to an outer saloon, in which half a dozen members of the police force were keeping guard over the criminal. He barely looked up at their entrance, and at once lowered his eyes to the ground. On their part they saw a low, squat figure, dressed in workman's garb, with dark hair and complexion, and narrow, deep-set eyes, into which it was difficult to look, the lids were kept so closely down. His mouth was lined by a pair of thin, cruel-looking lips, which hardly parted when he spoke, and his voice was low, hesitating, and indistinct. Both the Prince and his secretary thought they could detect a furtive expres sion in his countenance and bearing, as if he had something to hide, and were schooling himself to meet the coming examination.

The interrogation was commenced by M. Kark chulov, at a sign from the Prince, asking the prisoner his name. c " Simski Simskivitch." The answer was muttered rather than spoken. The Minister had put the question in the dialect of Balkistan, which was evidently understood by the man whom he addressed. " Where do you come from ? Are you a native of Balkistan ? " " No ; I am a Russian citizen." A covert glance at his questioners accompanied this answer, which was spoken in the ordinary Russian language, which, it should be explained, is closely akin to that of Balkistan. Both were equally familiar to the three investigators, but the former was less likely to be understood by the police standing by. Prince Rodolph, who had exchanged rapid looks with his secretary at the last answer, therefore whispered to M. Karkchulov to continue the examina tion in the tongue chosen by the prisoner.