Jennie Baxter, Journalist
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Robert Barr >> Jennie Baxter, Journalist
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"I am afraid that wouldn't do much good," replied Jennie, "unless you
could prevent chemicals being smuggled in. The scientists would probably
reduce your prison to powder, and walk calmly out through the dust."
Mr. Hardwick had told Jennie that if she solved the Vienna mystery she
would make a European reputation for the _Daily Bugle_. Jennie did more
than was expected of her, yet the European reputation which the _Bugle_
established was not one to be envied. It is true that the account
printed of the cause of the explosion, dramatically completed with the
Professor's tragically sudden death, caused a great sensation in London.
The comic papers of the week were full of illustrations showing the uses
to which the Professor's instrument might be put. To say that any sane
man in England believed a word of the article would be to cast an
undeserved slight upon the intelligence of the British public. No one
paused to think that if a newspaper had published an account of what
could be done by the Roeentgen rays, without being able to demonstrate
practically the truth of the assertions made, the contribution would
have been laughed at. If some years ago a newspaper had stated that a
man in York listened to the voice of a friend at that moment standing in
London, and was not only able to hear what his friend said, but could
actually recognize the voice speaking in an ordinary tone, and then
if the paper had added that, unfortunately, the instrument which
accomplished this had been destroyed, people would have denounced the
sensational nature of modern journalism.
Letters poured in upon the editor, saying that while, as a general rule,
the writers were willing to stand the ordinary lie of commerce daily
printed in the sheet, there was a limit to their credulity and they
objected to be taken for drivelling imbeciles. To complete the
discomfiture of the _Daily Bugle_, the Government of Austria
published an official statement, which Reuter and the special
correspondents scattered broadcast over the earth. The statement was
written in that calm, serious, and consistent tone which diplomatists
use when uttering a falsehood of more than ordinary dimensions.
Irresponsible rumours had been floating about (the official proclamation
began) to the effect that there had been an explosion in the Treasury
at Vienna. It had been stated that a large quantity of gold had been
stolen, and that a disaster of some kind had occurred in the Treasury
vaults. Then a ridiculous story had been printed which asserted that
Professor Seigfried, one of Austria's honoured dead, had in some manner
that savoured of the Black Art, encompassed this wholesale destruction.
The Government now begged to make the following declarations: First,
not a penny had been stolen out of the Treasury; second, the so-called
war-chest was intact; third, the two hundred million florins reposed
securely within the bolted doors of the Treasury vaults; fourth,
the coins were not, as had been alleged, those belonging to various
countries, which was a covert intimation that Austria had hostile intent
against one or the other of those friendly nations. The whole coinage
in this falsely named war-chest, which was not a war-chest at all, but
merely the receptacle of a reserve fund which Austria possessed, was
entirely in Austrian coinage; fifth, in order that these sensational and
disquieting scandals should be set at rest, the Government announced
that it intended to weigh this gold upon a certain date, and it invited
representatives of the Press, from Russia, Germany, France, and England
to witness this weighing.
The day after this troy-weight function had taken place in Vienna, long
telegraphic accounts of it appeared in the English press, and several
solemn leading articles were put forward in the editorial columns,
which, without mentioning the name of the _Daily Bugle_, deplored the
voracity of the sensational editor, who respected neither the amity
which should exist between friendly nations, nor the good name of the
honoured and respected dead, in his wolfish hunt for the daily scandal.
Nothing was too high-spiced or improbable for him to print. He traded on
the supposed gullibility of a fickle public. But, fortunately, in the
long run, these staid sheets asserted, such actions recoiled upon the
head of him who promulgated them. Sensational journals merited and
received the scathing contempt of all honest men. Later on, one of the
reviews had an article entitled "Some Aspects of Modern Journalism,"
which battered in the head of the _Daily Bugle_ as with a sledge hammer,
and in one of the quarterlies a professor at Cambridge showed the
absurdity of the alleged invention from a scientific point of view.
"I swear," cried Mr. Hardwick, as he paced up and down his room, "that I
shall be more careful after this in the handling of truth; it is a most
dangerous thing to meddle with. If you tell the truth about a man, you
are mulcted in a libel suit, and if you tell the truth about a nation,
the united Press of the country are down upon you. Ah, well, it makes
the battle of life all the more interesting, and we are baffled to fight
better, as Browning says."
The editor had sent for Miss Baxter, and she now sat by his desk while
he paced nervously to and fro. The doors were closed and locked so that
they might not be interrupted, and she knew by the editor's manner that
something important was on hand. Jennie had returned to London after
a month's stay in Vienna, and had been occupied for a week at her old
routine work in the office.
"Now, Miss Baxter," said the editor, when he had proclaimed his distrust
of the truth as a workable material in journalism, "I have a plan to set
before you, and when you know what it is, I am quite prepared to hear
you refuse to have anything to do with it. And, remember, if you _do_
undertake it, there is but one chance in a million of your succeeding.
It is on this one chance that I propose now to send you to St.
Petersburg--"
"To St. Petersburg!" echoed the girl in dismay.
"Yes," said the editor, mistaking the purport of her ejaculation, "it is
a very long trip, but you can travel there in great comfort, and I want
you to spare no expense in obtaining for yourself every luxury that the
various railway lines afford during your journey to St. Petersburg and
back."
"And what am I to go to St. Petersburg for?" murmured Jennie faintly.
"Merely for a letter. Here is what has happened, and what is happening.
I shall mention no names, but at present a high and mighty personage in
Russia, who is friendly to Great Britain, has written a private letter,
making some proposals to a certain high and mighty personage in England,
who is friendly to Russia. This communication is entirely unofficial;
neither Government is supposed to know anything at all about it. As a
matter of fact, the Russian Government have a suspicion, and the British
Government have a certainty, that such a document will shortly be in
transit. Nothing may come of it, or great things may come of it. Now
on the night of the 21st, in one of the sleeping cars leaving St.
Petersburg by the Nord Express for Berlin, there will travel a special
messenger having this letter in his possession. I want you to take
passage by that same train and secure a compartment near the messenger,
if possible. This messenger will be a man in whom the respective parties
to the negotiation have implicit confidence. I wish I knew his name,
but I don't; still, the chances are that he is leaving London for St.
Petersburg about this time, and so you might keep your eyes open on your
journey there, for, if you discovered him to be your fellow-passenger,
it might perhaps make the business that comes after easier. You see this
letter," continued the editor, taking from a drawer in his desk a large
envelope, the flap of which was secured by a great piece of stamped
sealing-wax. "This merely contains a humble ordinary copy of to-day's
issue of the _Bugle_, but in outside appearance it might be taken for a
duplicate of the letter which is to leave St. Petersburg on the 21st.
Now, what I would like you to do is to take this envelope in your
hand-bag, and if, on the journey back to London, you have an opportunity
of securing the real letter, and leaving this in its place, you will
have accomplished the greatest service you have yet done for the paper."
"Oh!" cried Jennie, rising, "I couldn't think of that, Mr. Hardwick--I
couldn't _think_ of doing it. It is nothing short of highway robbery!"
"I know it looks like that," pleaded Hardwick; "but listen to me. If
I were going to open the letter and use its contents, then you might
charge me with instigating theft. The fact is, the letter will not be
delayed; it will reach the hands of the high and mighty personage in
England quite intact. The only difference is that you will be its bearer
instead of the messenger they send for it."
"You expect to open the letter, then, in some surreptitious way--some
way that will not be noticed afterwards? Oh, I couldn't do it,
Mr. Hardwick."
"My dear girl, you are jumping at conclusions. I shall amaze you when
I tell you that I know already practically what the contents of that
letter are."
"Then what is the use of going to all this expense and trouble trying to
steal it?"
"Don't say 'steal it,' Miss Baxter. I'll tell you what my motive is.
There is an official in England who has gone out of his way to throw
obstacles in mine. This is needless and irritating, for generally I
manage to get the news I am in quest of; but in several instances, owing
to his opposition, I have not only not got the news, but other papers
have. Now, since the general raking we have had over this Austrian
business, quite aside from the fact that we published the exact truth,
this stupid old official duffer has taken it upon himself to be
exceedingly sneering and obnoxious to me, and I confess I want to take
him down a peg. He hasn't any idea that I know as much about this
business as I do--in fact, he thinks it is an absolute secret; yet, if
I liked, I could to-morrow nullify all the arrangements by simply
publishing what is already in my possession, which action on my part
would create a _furore_ in this country, and no less of a _furore_ in
Russia. For the sake of amity between nations, which I am accused of
disregarding, I hold my hand.
"Now, if you get possession of that communication, I want you to
telegraph to me while you are _en route_ for London, and I will meet you
at the terminus; then I shall take the document direct to this official,
even before the regular messenger has time to reach him. I shall say to
the official, 'There is the message from the high personage in Russia to
the high personage in England. If you want the document, I will give
it to you, but it must be understood that you are to be a little less
friendly to certain other newspapers, and a little more friendly to
mine, in future.'"
"And suppose he refuses your terms?"
"He won't refuse them; but if he does I shall hand him the envelope just
the same."
"Well, honestly, Mr. Hardwick, I don't think your scheme worth the
amount of money it will cost, and, besides, the chance of my getting
hold of the packet, which will doubtless be locked safely within a
despatch box, and constantly under the eye of the messenger, is most
remote."
"I am more than willing to risk all that if you will undertake the
journey. You speak lightly of my scheme, but that is merely because you
do not understand the situation. Everything you have heretofore done has
been of temporary advantage to the paper; but if you carry this off, I
expect the benefit to the _Bugle_ will be lasting. It will give me a
standing with certain officials that I have never before succeeded in
getting. In the first place, it will make them afraid of me, and that of
itself is a powerful lever when we are trying to get information which
they are anxious to give to some other paper."
"Very well, Mr. Hardwick, I will try; though I warn you to expect
nothing but failure. In everything else I have endeavoured to do, I have
felt confident of success from the beginning. In this instance I am
as sure I shall fail."
"As I told you, Miss Baxter, the project is so difficult that your
failure, if you _do_ fail, will merely prove it to have been
impossible, because I am sure that if anyone on earth could
carry the project to success, you are that person; and, furthermore, I
am very much obliged to you for consenting to attempt such a mission."
And thus it was that Jennie Baxter found herself in due time in the
great capital of the north, with a room in the Hotel de l'Europe
overlooking the Nevski Prospect. In ordinary circumstances she would
have enjoyed a visit to St. Petersburg; but now she was afraid to
venture out, being under the apprehension that at any moment she might
meet Lord Donal Stirling face to face, and that he would recognize her;
therefore she remained discreetly in her room, watching the strange
street scenes from her window. She found herself scrutinizing everyone
who had the appearance of being an Englishman, and she had to confess to
a little qualm of disappointment when the person in question proved to
be some other than Lord Donal; in fact, during her short stay at St.
Petersburg she saw nothing of the young man.
Jennie went, on the evening of her arrival, to the offices of the
Sleeping Car Company, to secure a place in one of the carriages that
left at six o'clock on the evening of the 21st. Her initial difficulty
met her when she learned there were several sleeping cars on that
train, and she was puzzled to know which to select. She stood there,
hesitating, with the plans of the carriages on the table before her.
"You have ample choice," said the clerk; "seats are not usually booked
so long in advance, and only two places have been taken in the train, so
far."
"I should like to be in a carriage containing some English people," said
the girl, not knowing what excuse to give for her hesitation.
"Then let me recommend this car, for one compartment has been taken by
the British Embassy--Room C, near the centre, marked with a cross."
"Ah, well, I will take the compartment next to it--Room D, isn't it?"
said Jennie.
"Oh, I am sorry to say that also has been taken. Those are the two
which are bespoken. I will see under what name Room D has been booked.
Probably its occupant is English also. But I can give you Room B, on the
other side of the one reserved by the Embassy. It is a two-berth room,
Nos. 5 and 6."
"That will do quite as well," said Jennie.
The clerk looked up the order book, and then said,--
"It is not recorded here by whom Room D was reserved. As a usual thing,"
he continued, lowering his voice almost to a whisper and looking
furtively over his shoulder, "when no name is marked down, that means
the Russian police. So, you see, by taking the third room you will not
only be under the shadow of the British Embassy, but also under the
protection of Russia. Do you wish one berth only, or the whole room? It
is a two-berth compartment."
"I desire the whole room, if you please."
She paid the price and departed, wondering if the other room had really
been taken by the police, and whether the authorities were so anxious
for the safety of the special messenger that they considered it
necessary to protect him to the frontier. If, in addition to the natural
precautions of the messenger, there was added the watchfulness of one or
two suspicious Russian policemen, then would her difficult enterprise
become indeed impossible. On the other hand, the ill-paid policemen
might be amenable to the influence of money, and as she was well
supplied with the coin of the realm, their presence might be a help
rather than a hindrance. All in all, she had little liking for the
task she had undertaken, and the more she thought of it, the less it
commended itself to her. Nevertheless, having pledged her word to the
editor, if failure came it would be through no fault of hers.
CHAPTER XVIII.
JENNIE ENDURES A TERRIBLE NIGHT JOURNEY.
Jennie went early to the station on the night of the 21st and entered
the sleeping car as soon as she was allowed to do so. The conductor
seemed unaccountably flustered at her anxiety to get to her room, and he
examined her ticket with great care; then, telling her to follow him,
brought her to Room B, in which were situated berths 5 and 6, upper and
lower. The berths were not made up, and the room showed one seat, made
to accommodate two persons. The conductor went out on the platform
again, and Jennie, finding herself alone in the carriage, walked up and
down the narrow passage-way at the side, to get a better idea of her
surroundings.
[Illustration: PLAN OF SLEEPING CAR.]
Room C, next to her own, was the one taken by the British Embassy. Room
D, still further on, was the one that appeared to have been retained by
the police. She stood for a few moments by the broad plate-glass window
that lined the passage and looked out at the crowded platform. For a
time she watched the conductor, who appeared to be gazing anxiously
towards the direction from which passengers streamed, as if looking for
someone in particular. Presently a big man, a huge overcoat belted round
him, with a stern bearded face--looking, the girl thought, typically
Russian--strode up to the conductor and spoke earnestly with him. Then
the two turned to the steps of the car, and Jennie fled to her narrow
little room, closing the door all but about an inch. An instant later
the two men came in, speaking together in French. The larger man had
a gruff voice and spoke the language in a way that showed it was not
native to him.
"When did you learn that he had changed his room?" asked the man with
the gruff voice.
"Only this afternoon," replied the conductor.
"Did you bore holes between that and the adjoining compartment?"
"Yes, Excellency; but Azof did not tell me whether you wanted the holes
at the top or the bottom."
"At the bottom, of course," replied the Russian. "Any fool might have
known that. The gas must rise, not fall; then when he feels its effect
and tumbles down, he will be in a denser layer of it, whereas, if we put
it in the top, and he fell down, he would come into pure air, and so
might make his escape. You did not bore the hole over the top berth, I
hope?"
"Yes, Excellency, but I bored one at the bottom also."
"Oh, very well, we can easily stop the one at the top. Have you fastened
the window? for the first thing these English do is to open a window."
"The window is securely fastened, your Excellency, unless he breaks the
glass."
"Oh, he will not think of doing that until it is too late. The English
are a law-abiding people. How many other passengers are there in the
car?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Excellency, the Room B has been taken by an
English lady, who is there now."
"Ten thousand devils!" cried the Russian in a hoarse whisper. "Why did
you not say that before?"
The voices now fell to so low a murmur that Jennie could not distinguish
the words spoken. A moment later there was a rap at her door, and she
had presence of mind enough to get in the further corner, and say in a
sleepy voice,--
"Come in!"
The conductor opened the door.
"_Votre billet, s'il vous plait, madame."_
"Can't you speak English?" asked Jennie.
The conductor merely repeated his question, and as Jennie was shaking
her head the big Russian looked over the conductor's shoulder and said
in passable English,--
"He is asking for your ticket, madam. Do you not speak French?" In
answer to this direct question Jennie, fumbling in her purse for her
ticket, replied,--
"I speak English, and I have already shown him my ticket." She handed
her broad-sheet sleeping-car ticket to the Russian, who had pushed the
conductor aside and now stood within the compartment.
"There has been a mistake," he said. "Room C is the one that has been
reserved for you."
"I am sure there isn't any mistake," said Jennie. "I booked berths
5 and 6. See, there are the numbers," pointing to the metallic plates by
the door, "and here are the same numbers on the ticket."
The Russian shook his head.
"The mistake has been made at the office of the Sleeping Car Company. I
am a director of the Company."
"Oh, are you?" asked Jennie innocently. "Is Room C as comfortable as
this one?"
"It is a duplicate of this one, madam, and is more comfortable, because
it is nearer the centre of the car."
"Well, there is no mistake about my reserving the two berths, is there?"
"Oh, no, madam, the room is entirely at your disposal."
"Well, then, in that case," said Jennie, "I have no objection to making
a change."
She knew that she would be compelled to change, no matter what her
ticket recorded, so she thought it best to play the simple maiden
abroad, and make as little fuss as possible about the transfer. She had
to rearrange the car in her mind. She was now in Room C, which had been
first reserved by the British Embassy. It was evident that at the
last moment the messenger had decided to take Room A, a four-berth
compartment at the end of the car. The police then would occupy Room B,
which she had first engaged, and, from the bit of conversation she had
overheard, Jennie was convinced that they intended to kill or render
insensible the messenger who bore the important letter. The police were
there not to protect, but to attack. This amazing complication in the
plot concentrated all the girl's sympathies on the unfortunate man who
was messenger between two great personages, even though he travelled
apparently under the protection of the British Embassy at St.
Petersburg. The fact, to put it baldly, that she had intended to rob
him herself, if opportunity occurred, rose before her like an accusing
ghost. "I shall never undertake anything like this again," she cried
to herself, "never, never," and now she resolved to make reparation to
the man she had intended to injure. She would watch for him until he
came down the passage, and then warn him by relating what she had heard.
She had taken off her hat on entering the room; now she put it on
hurriedly, thrusting a long pin through it. As she stood up, there was a
jolt of the train that caused her to sit down again somewhat hurriedly.
Passing her window she saw the lights of the station; the train was in
motion. "Thank Heaven!" she cried fervently, "he is too late. Those
plotting villains will have all their trouble for nothing."
She glanced upwards towards the ceiling and noticed a hole about an inch
in diameter bored in the thin wooden partition between her compartment
and the next. Turning to the wall behind her she saw that another hole
had been bored in a similar position through to Room B. The car had been
pretty thoroughly prepared for the work in hand, and Jennie laughed
softly to herself as she pictured the discomfiture of the conspirators.
The train was now rushing through the suburbs of St. Petersburg, when
Jennie was startled by hearing a stranger's voice say in French,--
"Conductor, I have Room A; which end of the car is that?"
"This way, Excellency," replied the conductor. Everyone seemed to be
"Excellency" with him. A moment later, Jennie, who had again risen to
her feet, horrified to learn that, after all, the messenger had come,
heard the door of his room click. Everything was silent save the purring
murmur of the swiftly moving train. She stood there for a few moments
tense with excitement, then bethought herself of the hole between her
present compartment and the one she had recently left. She sprang up
on the seat, and placing her eye with some caution at the hole, peered
through. First she thought the compartment was empty, then noticed there
had been placed at the end by the window a huge cylinder that reached
nearly to the ceiling of the room. The lamp above was burning brightly,
and she could see every detail of the compartment, except towards the
floor. As she gazed a man's back slowly rose; he appeared to have been
kneeling on the floor, and he held in his hand the loop of a rubber
tube. Peering downwards, she saw that it was connected with the
cylinder, and that it was undoubtedly pouring whatever gas the cylinder
contained through the hole into Room A. For a moment she had difficulty
in repressing a shriek; but realizing how perfectly helpless she was,
even if an alarm were raised, she fought down all exclamation. She saw
that the man who was regulating the escape of gas was not the one who
had spoken to the conductor. Then, fearing that he might turn his head
and see her eye at the small aperture, she reached up and covered the
lamp, leaving her own room in complete darkness. The double covering,
which closed over the semi-globular lamp like an eyelid, kept every ray
of light from penetrating into the compartment she occupied.
As Jennie turned to her espionage again, she heard a blow given to the
door in Room A that made it chatter, then there was a sound of a heavy
fall on the floor. The door of Room B was flung open, the head of the
first Russian was thrust in, and he spoke in his own language a single
gruff word. His assistant then turned the cock and shut off the gas from
the cylinder. The door of Room B was instantly shut again, and Jennie
heard the rattle of the key as Room A was being unlocked.
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