Rensselaer Journal, Volume 12, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 March 1903 — THE MYSTERY OF COUNT LANDRINOF. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE MYSTERY OF COUNT LANDRINOF.

BY FRED WHISHAW.

CHAPTER XXIIL ABDUCTION OP THE COUNT. “I think I begin to understand the detestable plot a little," I said. "My father fell, I suppose, into the hands of the precious villains who are your accomplices. What have they done with him ? For by all that's sure”— "Not so fact I I am no accomplice, so far as you can prove. May not a man discover a plot without being set down at once as an accomplice? I am coming to your father's fate." "For,” I repeated, springing to my feet and seizing the little rascal by the shoulders and shaking him as a cat would a mouse, “see here, you vile little wretch, if you dare to tell me that these people have injured a hair of my father's bead I swear to you that no promise or anything else shall save you and your abominable friends 1 I" “Do be a reasonable' creature and allow me to finish my story,” said my companion, twisting himself out of my clutches. "I did not say your father was injured, did I ? If he was injured, it was not, at any rate, by our people. Will you allow me to go on in peace or not ? I will not be hustled; remember that. You are stronger than I, but I have a will which is perhaps more than equal to your own. You cannot compel me to speak. There is much more to tell, but I will not tell it unless you promise to behave like a gentleman.” "Go on, then,” I said, "but if I find you have lied, and your friends have done father any injury, heaven help you, for I think I should kill you!” "Bah! lam not afraid. You are not the kind to kill a fellow creature, espe-

daily one who is trying his best to do you a very great service. Besides, I might not be eo easily killed. Killing is a game of which it is necessary to understand the elements. There is science in it. Maybe I have thought over such matters more than you have, and understand more thoroughly the tricks of the trade. ” “You are welcome to your knowledge,” Isaid. ‘‘For all I know you may be a murderer already, but it is certain that I will thrash you within an inch of your life in certain events. Therefore be careful how you tell your story.” ‘‘Bah!” said the student, who assuredly was no coward, though he was the most conceited and detestable little rascal, I should say, that ever breathed God’s air. ‘‘Bah! I shall tell the tale as I think best. If you do not like.my manner of telling it, that is your misfortune, but not my fault. Well, then, Ivanof’s plan was this: Arrangements were made to seize your father at Erinofka, on the moor or at the lodge or wherever it should prove to be most practicable. From there he should be brought by road to the house of—it does not matter whose house—and there he should be shut up. Then some one, one of the circle of friends, should go with a tale to the police announcing that by means of accidentally overhearing a conversation he had become aware of the hiding place of one upon whom he believed the police desired to lay their hands. The police would then send and arrest your father, believing him to be Andre, and Andre himself would quietly depart for Engl rnd, dressed en grand seigneur, and, ba j, there’s the end!” “I see,” I gasped. ‘‘And did this all happen, then, as arranged? Father was captured, as I believe, at Erinofka. What happened then? Tell me the truth.” ‘‘Why should I lie? The count was brought to St. Pete rsburg by road, as per programme. ■ He was dressed in a suit of Andre s clothes and looked, I am told, marvelously like Andre—indeed the police had no doubt whatever that he was that very individual. They bagged him neatly, and I have no doubt that they are still firmly under the impression that they have in their clutches somewhere Andre, or Kornilof, as they call him, and no other. ‘‘As for the real Andre, you know all about his doings. He went to London like a milord, and like a- milord he returned. He fell on his feet and still Btands upright. Who knows it better than yourself?” ‘‘Stop, you infernal little raecal!” I

cried, stamping my too* with rage. "What of my father? I have heard enough of your detestable Andre. Tell me of my father. Where is he? Wbat have they done with him?” "Ah. you must ask the police that question,” said the student. "Probably he is at Sakhalin or in that choice neighborhood. He was taken out of our —out of Andre’s friends’—hands, you see. I cannot be supposed to be in the confidence of the third section, which is the section of police spies. Can I, now? Be reasonable!” "I suppose not,” I groaned. "But, great heavens, what are we to do? How are we to get at the authorities? Will they believe us?” “Ah, that is a very delicate question l I should say they will not, but it is worth trying. ” "What will Andre’s attitude be, supposing we go to the police and explain that, though passing as the count, my father, this man is not my father, but an imposter?” "My dear sir, do I know the mind of Andre? Though acquainted with him, as yeu are aware, I cannot therefore state what he would do under any given circumstances. But I will say this—that probably our good friend has not neglected to prepare himself for such an emergency. He must know that at any time you might for reasons of your own disown him and declare that, though you have pretended that he is Count Landrinof, he isfin effect nothing of the kind, but Mr. Kornilof, the escaped convict. He will probably say that yqu are mad, and that your mother, th»> is no less, or that the countess has reasons for cherishing animosity against him, and that you are with her—being a mother’s child—to rid her in this crude way of a husband of whom she has grown tired.” “Such a ridiculous cock and bull story would never take in the police!” I cried scornfully. “My dear sir," said the student blandly, “you are forgetting one thing and that is that the police will be prejudiced in favor of Mr. Audre, or rather of the count, as they suppose him.” “Why?” I said angrily. "You are talking nonsense, my friend. ” "Nonsense or wisdom, it is nevertheless true. See here, now. The police have committed one of the stupidest blunders that ever effete officialdom performed, and that is saying much. They have sent the wrong man to Siberia and left a dangerous revolutionist at large. Do you suppose, as a reasonable, reasoning creature, that they will be so very ready to admit their error at your bidding and on so flimsy a story as this you will bring them in support of your assertion ? They will laugh in your face and say that you are a mad schoolboy and had better go back to your English school or to the Ensrlinb

asylum you have escaped from. Even if they believe your tale—which, "of course, they may do, though they will pretend they do not—they will still, laugh in your face and refuse to move in the matter.” "Do you seriously mean that they will refuse to set right this fearful blunder that they themselves have committed?” I said. "You are saying all this, as Andre’s friend, in the hope that I will allow matters to remain as they are. You wish to screen Andre, and my father’s fate is nothing^ to you. But do not make that mistake, _ my friend. I shall move heaven and earth.* I spend thousands of pounds. I shall never rest night and day until I have compelled the authorities to redeem their sinful blunder.” "My dear sir, you ravel” said the student coolly. "Your father's fate is, of course, of little interest to me, excepting in so far as—out of compliment to yourself—l should like to see so polite a friend as you have proved yourself gratified. But neither is Andre’s fate of any interest to me. To me it is nothing whether he lives in this palace or in Sakhalin. I have no personal affection for him. To prove that I do not wish to screen him, I invite you to go as soon as vou please to the nearest pristaf of police, tell him the. whole story and Bee what he will say. You will not, of course, mention me, or give any hint of my existence, or, indeed, speak pf the details of your father’s capture, and so on. Tell them simply that their recapture of Kornilof on such and such a day was a blunder, that they took this wrong man and that the right man is at this moment in your house. See what tht pristaf will say. He will laugh in your face. ” "And if he does, if be and his superiors refuse to set the thing right, am I to concur tamely in their decision ? Not I» my friend. I will go to the czar himaslf, but I will see justice done to my dear father!” “There will be no need to go to the czar,” laughed the student. “Go to a lesser man, though perhaps as worthy a one. Go——or rather come back—to me. I shall have something to propose, only there must be another arrangement in this event-r-and another check!” • [to be continued. J j

“Bah! You are not the kind to kill a fellow creature."