Rescuing the Czar | Page 6

in a Bolshevik encounter. He had greatly recovered when the call was made and an opening naturally presented for the soldier to recount the part he played in the adventure of his country in the Revolutionary drama of that hour.
"I'm as certain as I'm living," the wounded soldier said, "that a Bolshevik is as 'nutty' as a rabbit. The fellow I had by the neck before my lights went out was putting up a holler, in German, and claiming to be a personal friend of some personal friend of the missing Czar. Before he finally passed in his chips he gave me a bundle of paper diaries he had stolen down in China, and he asked me to return them to their rightful owner so that he might die without a sin upon his conscience. Honestly, that chap was dead in earnest in this matter of his conscience. I took the stuff, of course; but I never thought about them until the other day. Since then they seem to haunt me. I wonder if you'd mind looking them over if the nurse'd get them out?"
"With pleasure," was the reply.
The nurse brought in an old leather bag, from which the Captain extracted two begrimed and blood-smeared rolls written in a very small but strong and vigorous hand.
While looking over the documents in a casual way a loose leaf fell to the floor. Upon picking it up, there was found to be written on one side in bold underscored letters:
"Make no belief in the evidence that was manufactured to satisfy some bloodthirsty men in Russia. What I have seen with my own eyes I know is true. For the sake of Russia I stoled these papers from the man come from the West who was with them all the way from 'Yekaterinburg to Chunking. What he write is true.
"DONETSKY"
"That's his name," the Captain said, "and if you don't find that he was as crazy as a bedbug I'll say I'm General Graves."
"This diary seems to be written in very good English."
"Yes," said the Captain, "all those fellows keep one. They're like the Germans--give 'em a pencil and a piece of paper and they'll scribble all day."
"Did he say who wrote this?"
"No; he cashed in, as I told you; but you'll see the name of Fox here and there through the diary that's written in the small hand."
"_Fox_--who was 'Fox'?"
"Search me! Some Johnny, I suppose."
"May I take these with me?"
"Sure thing! I'll make you a present of 'em. All I ask is, if you find out whether that fellow 'Fox' grabs the peacherino from the Métropole or the one called 'Maria' you'll send me an invitation."
The bargain was struck. Then the question was asked: "Any idea who wrote this diary--the one written in a quick running hand?'
"Sounds like some fellow with a grouch against Kerensky and Lvov. I know enough Russian to make out that much--"
"Evidently one of the Revolutionary officials?"
"Seems so," the Captain said. "You'll notice what he has to say about the mixup with the Russian Royal family at Tobolsk and Tumen. There's a lot of our fellows who don't take any stock in that assassination business at 'Katerinburg."
"I began to read: 'I had walked from Euston Station to Madame Tussaud's, when the messenger jumped from his motorcycle and rushed up to me--' Your diarist starts out in London, I see."
"Yes, he is some globe trotter--"
"'"Go to Birdcage and walk slowly back to Queen Victoria Memorial. As you pass Buckingham, observe the heavily veiled lady wearing white lace wristlets who will follow on behind. Let her overtake you. If she utters the correct phrase, go with her at once to Admiralty Arch and follow the Life Guard to the War Office. Meet number ... there; receive a small orange-colored packet, wear the shirt he gives you, and cross the Channel at once"'--I see! From Buckingham Palace to the War Office; sounds interesting."
"It is; that fellow is all there!" complimented the Captain.
"'The meeting at the _Huis ten-Bosch_ points to Wilhelmstrasse. Nothing can be done here. They suspect Downing Street.'--Ah, at The Hague, and at the _ten-Bosch_ too, where the Czar and Andrew Carnegie held their first Peace Conference in 1899; this looks significant!"
"Keep going," said the Captain; "that fellow's got 'The Man in the Iron Mask' brushed off the map."
"Here is something singular about Berlin. Your man walks through the lines like a wraith--"
"Not always. As you get into his stuff you'll hear things sizzle."
And thus the Imperial dead return to life through the pages of these stolen diaries.
While the temptation is great to revise the manuscript, so as to make it read more smoothly, it has been decided not to alter a line or letter. Truth will be better served by publishing what is prudent, under the complicated political circumstances of