Dennis Wheatley - The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

" 'Tis very different here. All men may hold such religious beliefs as they choose, and although the Empress herself is a strict follower of the Orthodox Greek Church she has recently appointed an Arch­bishop for her Catholic subjects, and established a serninary of Jesuits at Mohilef. This spirit of goodwill is even carried to the extent of Her Majesty's confessor, Ivan Pamphilief, giving a 'Dinner of Toleration’ each year on the 6th of January. At it the Metropolitan Gabriel presides, and the principal clergy of all religions are invited. On one occasion when, before the dinner, wines of various kinds were handed round on a salver, our host made a charming allusion to the widely divergent creeds of the assembled company, by remarking: 'These wines are all good; they differ only in colour and taste.' And that is the happy spirit which animates religion in this land which the western nations stig­matise as barbarous."

Roger nodded. " 'Tis certainly a much nearer approach to a true interpretation of the teaching of Our Lord than anything so far achieved elsewhere in Europe. Yet in other respects the Russians appear to be still only half-civilised. Their brutality is a by-word; and I gather that for quite insignificant faults they inflict punishments on their servants which we should consider ferocious."

"That I admit; yet a death-sentence is a rarer thing here than in most other countries."

"What though, Sir, of exile to Siberia? 'Tis said that thousands of hapless folk are despatched every year to drag out a miserable exist­ence in those icy wastes?"

Mr. Tooke made a deprecating gesture. "News of general conditions in such a distant country as Russia travels but slowly to the outer world. No doubt in England people still believe the state of things here to be much as they were in the days of Her Majesty's predecessor, the Empress Elizabeth. She was as great a tyrant as her father, Peter the First, yet lacking his originality and abilities. On her ascension to the throne in 1741, she took a vow never to resort to capital punish­ment, but since she was mean, cruel and suspicious by nature she allowed countless judicial atrocities to be committed in her name.

"In cases of suspected treason even inferior magistrates were em­powered to have prisoners' hands tied behind them to a rope by which they were then hoisted to the ceiling, let down with a jerk so that their arms were wrenched from their sockets, then knouted in that position to extract a confession. Quite frequently, too, innocent people were dragged from their beds in the middle of the night by her secret police and, without any form of trial, carried off into exile. 'Tis said that during the twenty years of her reign she banished over twenty thousand of her subjects to Siberia. But things are very different to-day. On coming to the throne the Empress Catherine forbade the use of all forms of torture, and although she sometimes sends those who have displeased her into exile, 'tis only on comparatively rare occasions. Her private life leaves much to be desired, but she is of a kindly disposition and rules with great humanity."

Roger was about to ask Mr. Tooke's personal impression of the Empress when heavy footfalls sounded in the passage outside, the door opened, and a rugged face surmounted by crisp, iron-grey hair was thrust round it.

"Your pardon, William!" the newcomer exclaimed on seeing Roger. "I was not aware that you had a visitor; and having delivered a parcel from my wife to your good lady, had thought that I would look in on you for a word before making my way home.

"Come in, Samuel, come in," cried Mr. Tooke; then, turning to Roger, he added in French. "Allow me to present you, Monsieur, to one of Her Majesty's most distinguished and devoted servants; Admiral Sir Samuel Greig, of the Imperial Russian Navy. Samuel, permit me to introduce Monsieur le Chevalier de Breuc, a young Frenchman newly arrived in Petersburg."

The Admiral had advanced into the room. He was a stalwart, thick-set man in his early fifties. His weatherbeaten face was lit by a pair of impatient, flashing eyes. He looked a rough diamond, and when he spoke it was with abrupt forcefulness. Instead of return­ing Roger's bow he stared at him truculently for a moment, then bellow­ed with a heavy Scots accent.

"Young Frenchman, eh? Tell that to the Marines! I'll swallow my own anchor if he's not as much an Englishman as yourself. And you, young man! Tell me this instant what criminal intent leads you to come to Russia deceiving honest men into believing you a Frenchie?"

Chapter XIII

HELL'S KITCHEN

Taken completely off his guard, Roger remained tongue-tied for a moment. He had not the faintest idea what had led to this swift ' penetration of his incognito. He knew only that if the Admiral's loyalty to his Imperial Mistress proved greater than any sentimental ties he retained for the land of his origin, the game was up. He, Roger, could count himself lucky if no worse befell than for his mission to end before it had properly begun, by his ignominious and immediate expulsion from Russia. That was, unless he could somehow manage to bluff his way out of the extraordinarily unfortunate encounter.

He had often heard of Admiral Greig. Indeed, the intrepid sailor was regarded as almost as much of a hero in the country of his birth as in that of his adoption. He had commanded a division of the first Russian Fleet ever to enter the Mediterranean; and, although the Supreme Command had been vested in Count Alexis Orlof, the brother of the Empress's first great favourite, there were good grounds for believing that Greig and his fellow Scot, Rear-Admiral Elphinstone, were the real authors of the signal victory by which the Russians had annihilated the entire Turkish Fleet in the Bay of Chesme.

Since then, he had distinguished himself by leading numerous spectacular actions, and, between wars, had become, in all but name, Commander-in-Chief of the Russian Navy. His rise was all the more spectacular in that he had started his sea-career in merchant ships, then served before the mast in the British Navy for six years before being allowed to accept a Lieutenant's commission in the Russian service. He now held the rank of Grand Admiral; and the five great jewelled stars blazing upon his breast—denoting him to be a Knight of the Orders of St. Andrew, St. George, St. Vladimir, St. Anne and St. Alexander Nevski—were more than enough to show the unlimited faith that the Empress placed in him. To Roger, it seemed in the highest degree improbable that such a man would be prepared to abuse his mistress's confidence to the extent of allowing a spy to remain at large in her country.

His only course seemed to be to lie like a trooper, and pray that Mr. Tooke would not give him away; so, drawing himself up to his full six feet, he said haughtily: "You are under a sad misapprehension, Sir, and obviously mistake me for another. I have lived in England long enough to speak your language with some fluency, but my name is de Breuc, and I am a native of Strasbourg."

"Enough of such lying, boy!" snapped the Admiral. "I know you for what you are."

Hopelessly puzzled as to the reason for this unshakeable assur­ance, Roger could only stand his ground and take refuge in assumed anger.

"Since you give me the lie, Sir," he said sharply, "although you are my senior by many years, you leave me no alternative but to call you out."

The Admiral gave a great bellow of laughter, then shook his head with a humorous grin. " 'Tis easy to see that you have not been long in Petersburg, my young fire-eater. The Russians may be a backward people in many ways, but at least they realise the idiocy of settling differences of opinion by jabbing at each other with their swords. Should you slap a Russian's face he will hit you back or break his cane over your head; but you will not find one fool enough to submit him­self to a contest in which justice has no part, and the best swordsman, be he right or wrong, comes off victorious."