CHAPTER XIX.
THE PLOTTERS FOILED.
When the conspirators passed through the tobacco shop they did not even glance toward the counter, and therefore did not notice the absence of the shopkeeper. Had they done so, there probably would have been a different story to tell.
Frank and Jack, once outside the store, breathed easier, and followed the conspirators at what they deemed a safe distance, nevertheless keeping close enough upon their heels not to lose sight of them should they turn into some place suddenly.
“Lucky for us they didn’t see what we did to the proprietor of that shop,” said Jack.
“I should say so,” replied Frank.
“Now if we can just keep close enough without being discovered,” said Frank, “we may be able to find some means of preventing this tragedy.”
“If they don’t stop some place, we are all right,” agreed Frank.
Jack looked at his watch.
“By Jove!” he ejaculated.
“What’s the matter?” asked Frank.
“Why, it’s after four o’clock now. There is not much time. Evidently we must be closer to the palace than I thought.”
“Well, the sooner this is over the better I shall be pleased.”
“Not losing your nerve, are you?”
“Not exactly; still I feel a little uncomfortable.”
Turning off the narrow side street, the lads followed the men down a much busier thoroughfare, where, at the far end, they could see a great crowd gathered. The men made directly for it, and, approaching closer, the lads recognized the Czar’s palace.
Right through the large crowd gathered about, the four men pushed their way; then, abruptly they separated into pairs.
Jack grasped Frank by the arm.
“Quick!” he exclaimed. “You follow those two,” pointing, “and I’ll take the others. We don’t know which one has the bomb.”
Frank nodded and set out in pursuit of the two moving toward the left.
In the crowd there was little danger that the men would notice that they were being followed, and Frank felt safe in crowding right on behind them. Jack followed the same plan with the other pair.
The crowd was held back by long lines of troops on either side of the street, spectators not being permitted closer than a hundred feet of the line of march.
In the extreme front, where they forced their way by dint of much pushing and shoving, the conspirators took their stand. Frank glanced about. Perhaps a hundred yards down the line he thought he caught sight of the large stature of his friend, but of this he could not be positive.
Half an hour passed, then three quarters, then the sound of a distant bugle and galloping hoofs gave notice that the troops were approaching. Almost at the same moment a figure descended the palace steps and mounted a large black charger. The figure was handsomely garbed, and gold glittered over his uniform. Even from where he stood Frank could make out that he wore a beard.
It was Nicholas Romanoff, Czar of all the Russias.
The Czar rode his horse slowly down the lane of spectators and Frank and Jack, each in his respective place, became tense, expectant and ready for instant action.
Suddenly one of the men near Frank made a move and the lad half drew his revolver. The man simply produced a handkerchief, however, and wiped beads of perspiration from his brow. Frank thrust his revolver back in his pocket, but kept his hand upon it.
The Czar, riding slowly, drew near to where Jack and the other two conspirators stood. Then it was that Jack recognized that he was the one who held the Czar’s life in his hands.
The conspirator to his left thrust his hand under his coat and drew forth a round dark object, which he concealed from the crowd. Jack’s sharp eyes had seen the move, but he did not act yet.
Now the Czar was directly abreast them, not more than a hundred feet away.
Slowly the conspirator drew back his hand, and in another instant would have hurled the bomb upon the Czar; but at that moment Jack came to life.
As the man drew back his arm, Jack stepped quickly forward, and, seizing the upraised hand in both his, wrenched the arm violently. The man staggered back with a cry of pain, and dropped the bomb.
But before it could touch the ground, where it would undoubtedly have exploded, killing and maiming many, Jack slipped one hand beneath it and caught it gently.
Then the two thwarted conspirators sprang upon him.
There seemed to be no one in the crowd who had perceived the cause of Jack’s struggle with the two men, and the latter, taking advantage of this fact, struggled fiercely with Jack, uttering loud cries of “Assassin!” “Kill him!” “He tried to assassinate the Czar!”
With his one free hand, Jack fought desperately, but the crowd, attracted by the cries of the two conspirators, closed in on him angrily. Some one wrenched the bomb from his hand, and other hands clawed and struck at his face and body.
Jack fought back gamely, for he realized that if once knocked to the ground he would probably be killed before the authorities could intervene to save him. He struck out vigorously right and left and men fell before his terrific blows.
But the odds were too great and were bound to tell at last. Jack went down, and the crowd piled on top of him.
At that instant a troop of horsemen bore down upon the struggling heap, striking right and left with their sabres and scattering the crowd in all directions, and they arrived none too soon.
Jack was unconscious. Bleeding from knife wounds in half a dozen places, and his face covered with blood from a wound in the forehead where a missile of some kind had struck, he lay perfectly helpless.
Rough soldier hands lifted him rudely from the ground and flung him across a horse, and then the troop galloped away.
While all this was going on, Frank had tried in vain to reach the side of his friend, who he knew was in trouble of some kind, although he could not make sure what. He did not realize the true state of affairs until he had seen the troopers take his friend’s body from beneath many others.
“Great Scott!” he cried to himself then. “They believe Jack tried to kill the Czar! What shall I do?”
The answer to this question came to him like a flash. Lord Hastings, a personal friend of the Czar, was, perhaps, the only man who, under the circumstances, would be given a hearing. Frank turned quickly and dashed madly down the street.
Round corner after corner he ran at full speed, nor did he check his stride until he reached the harbor and the spot near where the submarine D-16 was anchored.
A man with a rowboat hustled up at Frank’s bidding, and the lad ordered him to pull for the submarine with all speed.
Jumping aboard and bidding the rower to wait for him, Frank dashed madly for Lord Hastings’ quarters.
The commander of the D-16 rose quickly to his feet as his door was thrown violently open and Frank, gasping for breath and with pale face, stood before him.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Lord Hastings anxiously.
“Jack—Jack—arrested,” panted Frank.
Lord Hastings drew close and took him by the shoulders.
“Take your time,” he said quietly. “Nothing was ever gained by too great haste. Get your breath and then tell me what the trouble is.”
For another half a minute Frank gasped on, then finally was able to speak more calmly.
“Jack has been arrested,” he said.
“What for?” asked Lord Hastings calmly.
“He’s accused of trying to assassinate the Czar.”
“What!” cried Lord Hastings, staggering back and almost losing his composure.
“It’s true, sir,” cried Frank.
“By George, this is serious!” said Lord Hastings. “Now tell me all about it as quickly as you can.”
Frank did so, and Lord Hastings listened quietly until he had concluded. Then he quickly got his hat and coat, and motioning to Frank to follow, made his way to the bridge. Both climbed into the boat that had brought Frank aboard the submarine and the rower put off for shore with powerful strokes.
“Is Jack in much danger, sir?” asked Frank.
“I don’t know,” said Lord Hastings. “In times of peace, of course, he would be given a trial; but the anger of the people and the troopers now will be so great that it is hard to say what will happen.”
“Where are we going, sir?”
“First to the chief of police; then to the Czar himself.”
Lord Hastings, who knew the Russian police chief well, had no difficulty in gaining admittance, and Frank with him. To the chief Frank told his story. The chief appeared somewhat incredulous.
“I have not the slightest doubt of your integrity, Lord Hastings,” he said, “but may you not be mistaken in your officers?”
“I am not mistaken,” said Lord Hastings stiffly. “Now, I want to know at once what action you will take to release my friend at once.”
“There is nothing I can do,” said the chief. “The prisoner has been taken out of my hands by the military authorities. I am afraid you must appeal to the Czar, and I am not at all sure that such an appeal will result favorably to you.”
“Then I have no time to lose here,” said Lord Hastings abruptly, and made for the door, Frank following him.
At the door of the palace Lord Hastings demanded an audience of the Czar immediately.
“It is impossible, my lord,” said the attendant. “His majesty is engaged in the case of his attempted assassination and cannot be disturbed.”
“But I must see his majesty at once,” said Lord Hastings hotly, “and it is of this very case I would consult him.”
“I am very sorry——”
Lord Hastings suddenly produced his revolver.
“I am a friend of his majesty’s,” he said, very quietly, “and you will either tell him this instant that I desire an audience in connection with this case, or I shall push my way in over your dead body! This is a matter of life and death and I am not to be trifled with!”