Once in the street the old man slipped his arm through that of his companion, and hobbled along beside him. “My dear young friend,” he said, when they had been walking for some few minutes, “we are out of the house now, and able to talk sensibly together without fear of making fools of ourselves or of being overheard. First and foremost, tell me this: have you any notion of what you are doing?”
“Of course I am not very well up in it,” Browne replied modestly; “but I think I know pretty well.”
“Then, let me tell you this, as one who is probably more conversant with the subject than any man living: you know absolutely nothing at all!”
After this facer Browne did not know quite what to say. Herr Sauber stopped and looked at him.
“Has it struck you yet,” he said, “that you, a young Englishman, without the least experience in such things, are pitting yourself against all the organization and cunning of the Great Russian Bear?”
“That point has certainly struck me,” Browne replied.
“And do you mean to say that, knowing the strength of the enemy you are about to fight, you are not afraid to go on? Well, I must admit I admire your bravery; but I fear it is nearer foolhardiness than pluck. However, since you are determined to go on with it, let me give you a little bit of advice that may be of service to you. I understand you have not long enjoyed the honour of Madame Bernstein’s acquaintance?”
Browne stated that this was so, and wondered what was coming next. He was beginning to grow interested in this queer old man, with the sharp eyes, who spoke with such an air of authority.
“Before I go any farther,” continued the old gentleman, “permit me to remark that I yield to no one in my admiration for the lady’s talent. She is an exceedingly clever woman, whose grasp of European politics is, to say the least of it, remarkable. At the same time, were I in your position, I would be as circumspect as possible in my behaviour towards her. Madame is a charming companion; she is philosophic, and can adapt herself to the most unpleasant circumstances with the readiness of an old campaigner. In matters like the present, however, I regret to say, her tongue runs riot with her, and for that reason alone I consider her little short of dangerous.”
This may or may not have been the exact thought Browne had in his own mind. But the woman was Katherine’s friend; and, however imprudent she might be, that circumstance alone was sufficient, in a certain sense, to make him loyal to her. Herr Sauber probably read what was passing in his mind, for he threw a glance up at him in his queer sparrow-like way, and, when he had eyed him steadfastly for a few seconds, continued what he had to say with even greater emphasis than before.
“I do not want you to mistake my meaning,” he said. “At the same time, I have no desire to see the mission you have taken in hand turn out a failure. I have been acquainted with Madame Bernstein for more years than either she or I would probably care to remember, and it is far from my intention or desire to prejudice your mind against her. At the same time, I have known Katherine’s family for a much longer period, and I must study them and their interests before all.”
“But what is it of which you desire to warn me?” Browne inquired. “It seems to me that Madame Bernstein is as anxious to assist Katherine’s father to escape as any of us.”
“I sincerely believe she is,” the old man replied. “In spite of the life she has led these twenty years, she still remains a woman, and impetuous. You must see for yourself that, in a matter like the present, you cannot be too careful. Let one little hint reach the Russian Government, and farewell to any chance you may stand of effecting the man’s escape.”
“But what am I to do to prevent her from giving them a hint?” asked Browne. “She knows as much as I do, and I cannot gag her!”
“But you need not tell her of all your plans,” he answered. “Tell Katherine what you please; she has the rare gift of being able to hold her tongue, and wild horses would not drag the secret from her.”
“Then, to sum up what you say, I am to take care that, while Katherine and I know everything, Madame Bernstein shall know nothing?”
“I do not say anything of the kind,” said Herr Sauber. “I simply tell you what I think, and I leave it to your good sense to act as you think best. You English have a proverb to the effect that the least said is the soonest mended. When the object of your expedition is accomplished, and you are back in safety once more, you will, I hope, be able to come to me and say, ‘Herr Sauber, there was no necessity to act upon the advice you gave me’; then I shall be perfectly satisfied.”
“I must confess that you have made me a little uneasy,” Browne replied. “I have no doubt you are right, however. At any rate, I will be most careful of what I say, and how I act, in her presence. Now, perhaps, you can help me still further, since you declare you are better acquainted with the subject than most people. Being so ignorant, I should be very grateful for a few hints as to how I should set to work.” In spite of the old man’s boast, Browne thought he had rather got the better of him now. He was soon to be undeceived, however.
“You intend to carry this through yourself, I suppose?” asked his companion. “If I mistake not, I heard you say this evening that you proposed to set sail at once for the Farther East. Is that so?”
“It is quite true,” Browne replied. “I leave for London tomorrow afternoon, and immediately upon my arrival there I shall commence my preparations. You will see for yourself, if the man is so ill, there is no time to waste.”
“In that case I think I can introduce you to a person who will prove of the utmost assistance to you; a man without whom, indeed, it would be quite impossible for you to succeed in your undertaking.”
“That is really very kind of you,” said Browne; “and, pray, who is this interesting person, and where shall I find him?”
“His name is Johann Schmidt,” said Sauber, “and for some years past he has taken up his residence in Hong-kong. Since we are alone, I may as well inform you that he makes a speciality of these little affairs, though I am not aware that he has done very much in that particular locality in which you are at present most interested. New Caledonia is more in his line. However, I feel sure that that will make little or no difference to him, and I do not think you can do better than pay him a visit when you reach Eastern waters.”
“But how am I to broach the subject to him? And how am I to know that he will help me? I cannot very well go to him and say straight out that I am anxious to help a Russian convict to escape from Saghalien.”
“I will give you a letter to him,” replied Herr Sauber, “and after he has read it you will find that you will have no difficulty in the matter whatsoever. For a sum to be agreed upon between you, he will take the whole matter off your hands, and all you will have to do will be to meet the exile at a spot which will be arranged, and convey him to a place of safety.”
“I am sure I am exceedingly obliged to you,” said Browne. “But will you answer me one more question?”
“I will answer a hundred if they will help you,” the other replied. “But what is this particular one?”
“I want to know why you did not tell us all this, when we were discussing the matter at the house just now.”
“Because in these matters the safest course is to speak into one ear only. If you will be guided by me you will follow my example. When no one knows what you are going to do, save yourself, it is impossible for any one to forestall or betray you.”
By this time they had reached the corner of the Rue Auber. Here the old gentleman stopped and held out his hand.
“At this point our paths separate, I think,” he said, “and I have the honour to wish you good-night.”
“But what about that address in Hong-kong?” Browne inquired. “As I leave for England tomorrow, it is just possible that I may not see you before I go.”
“I will send it to your hotel,” Herr Sauber replied. “I know where you are staying. Good-night, my friend, and may you be as successful in the work you are undertaking as you deserve to be.”
Browne thanked him for his good wishes, and bade him good-night. Having done so, he resumed his walk alone, with plenty to think about. Why it should have been so he could not tell, but it seemed to him that, since his interview with the old man, from whom he had just parted, the whole aspect of the affair to which he had pledged himself had ............