The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 3 — page 113: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BY RIGHT OF SWORD. | 497 ‘But you can’t do what this man wants, Olga,’’ said I, with a smile to reassure her. ‘‘If you could he would probably let me go and hold on to you. If I couldn’t, he would hold on to us both. But you must go for this reason: You must find Balestier and tell him to come here. He must stop making a fuss about Hamylton Tregethner, and just come.on here and see me, and let us try together to find out some solution of the puzzle. But he must hold his tongue unless talking to the right pair of ears.’’ ‘‘T shall know no rest till I find him,’’ replied Olga instantly. ‘‘ And if I do not, I shall come back here. I will not leave like this.’’ I kissed her, but did not tell her that, so far as I was concerned, her re- turn would be useless, for the cogent reason that I should not be alive. It was impossible that I could survive by many hours the imperial visit. This I kept from her, however, for the farewell was already more than sufficiently sad and trying ; and I doubt if any consideration on earth would have in- duced her to leave if she had really known how imminent was my danger. I talked much, indeed, of the help that Balestier might be able to render, and thus impressed on her strongly the need for her to find him, however long it might take her. This giving her a task, and connecting it with the work of helping me, kept her hope alive and tended to reconcile her to the parting, so that in the end she shook off much of her depression. I could see also that she was battling with her feelings, to distress me as little as possible with the evidence of her grief. I loved her the more as I saw this, but the parting was such pain for us both that I was glad when it was over. I stood and watched the train steam out of the station, and saw her leaning from the carriage window to catch the last glimpse of me. And I was sad, indeed, as I turned away with a positively choking sense of loneliness such as I had never felt before in all ny life. The departure of my brave, dear little sister, clever witted counselor, aud dearest companion, seemed to leave such a void in my life that, in the first hours which followed her departure, I mourned for her as one grieves for the dead. And in truth she was dead to me. But the events of the day following left me little time for meditation. It was Sunday, and a day of brisk action. Early in the morning there were special regimental duties; and on my return to my rooms for break- fast I found waiting for me a stranger, whose card, given to my servant, described him as ‘‘J. J. Junker, St. Petersburg Gazette.’’ He rose at my entrance, bowed, and said in a very pleasant voice : “Excuse a journalist’s liberty in coming to you. Iam the special cor- respondent of the St. Petersburg Gaze/fe, and have come to do the Czar’s visit, and I should very much like a word with you on the matter.’’ ‘‘T don’t see where I can be of any help,’’ Ireplied ; ‘* but if there’s any- thing I can tell you, fire away. I’ve hada couple of hours’ drill this morn- ing, however, and I have to be on the parade ground in less than*an hour, so you must excuse me if I have my breakfast while we chat. But perhaps you'll join me?”’ ‘‘ With the greatest pleasure ;’’ and down he sat, and while the servant 8 eomnichools (S@)