May 16, 2025 • 30 mins
When the British Consulate in Leghorn falls victim to a puzzling burglary, and an enigmatic English yacht pays an unexpected visit, it sparks an enthralling journey of espionage and hidden criminal machinations. This thrilling tale sweeps the reader from London to Scotland, and finally to the oppressed lands of Finland, under the harsh rule of imperial Russia. Our protagonist is a man of exceptional acumen, a precursor to the likes of Double O Seven, who finds himself pushed to his limits as he navigates this web of intrigue and deception to uncover the truth. - Summary by Nicholas Clifford
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter eleven of The Tsar Spy. This Liebervox recording is
in the public domain recording by Tom Weiss. The Tsar's
Spy by William Leque, Chapter eleven, The Castle of the Terror,
Part one. The big Finn had I found tied up
(00:22):
his horses, and in the heavy old boat. He rowed
me down the swollen river, which ran swift and turbulent
around a bend, and then seemed to open out to
a great width. In the starlight, I could distinguish that
it stretched gray and level to a distance, and that
the opposite bank was fringed with pines. Where are we going,
I asked my guide in a low voice, but he
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only whispered, hush, excellency, remain patient, and you shall see
the young englishwoman. So I sat in the boat while
he allowed it to drift with the current, steering it
with the great heavy oars. The river suddenly narrowed again, again,
with high pines on either bank, a silent, lonesome reach,
perhaps indeed one of the loneliest spots in all Europe.
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Once the dismal howl of a wolf sounded close to
where we passed, but my guide made no remark. After
nearly a mile, the stream again opened out into a
broad lake, where in the distance I saw, rising sheer
and high from the water, a long square building of
three stories, with a tall round tower at one corner,
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an old medieval castle. It seemed to be from one
of the small windows of the tower. As we came
into view of it, a light was shining upon the water,
and my guide, seeing it, grunted in satisfaction it had
undoubtedly been placed there as signal. With great caution, he
approached the place, keeping in the deep shadow of the
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bank until we came exactly opposite the flanking tower. In
the lighted window, I distinctly saw a dark figure of
someone appear for a moment, and then my guide struck
a match and held it in his fingers until it
was wholly consumed. Almost instantly the light was extinguished, and then,
after waiting five minutes or so, he pulled straight across
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the lake to the high, dark tower that descended into
the water. The place was as grim and silent as
any I had ever seen, an impregnable stronghold of the
days before siege guns were invented, the fortress of some
feudal prince or count who had probably held the surrounding
country in Thraldom. I put my hand against the black,
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slimy wall to prevent the boat bumping, and then distinguished
just beyond me a small wooden ledge and half a
dozen steps, which led up to a low arched door.
The latter had opened noiselessly, and the dark figure of
a woman stood peering forth. My guide uttered some reassuring
word and finished in a low half whisper, then slowly
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pushed the boat along the edge, saying, your high nobility
may disembark. There is at present no danger. I rose,
gripped a big rusty chain to steady myself, and climbed
into the narrow doorway in the ponderous wall, where I
found myself in the darkness beside the female, who had
apparently been expecting our arrival and watching our signal. Without
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a word, she led me through a short passage and then,
striking a match, lit a big old fashioned lantern. As
the light fell upon her features, I saw they were
thin and hard, with deep set eyes, and a stray
wisp of silver across her wrinkled brow. Around her head
was a kind of hood of the same stuff as
her dress. A black coarse woolen, while around her neck
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was a broad linen collar. In an instant I recognized
that she was a member of some religious order, some
minor order, perhaps with whose habit we in Italy were
not acquainted. The thin, acidic countenance was that of a
woman of strong character, and her few unureal habits seemed
much too large for her stunded, shrunken figure. The sister
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speaks French, I hazarded in Lan language, knowing that it
most convents throughout Europe French is known. We monsieur, was
her answer, and a little English too, a very little,
she smiled. You know why I am here, I said,
gratified that at least one person in that lonesome country
could speak my own tongue. Yes, I have already been told,
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was her answer, with a strong accent, as we stood
in that small, bare stone room, a semi circular chamber
in the tower, once perhaps a prison. But are you
not afraid to venture here? She asked? Why? Well, because
no strangers are permitted here. You know, if your present
here was discovered, you would not leave this place alive.
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So I warn you I am prepared to risk that,
I said, smiling at the same time, my hand instinctively
sought my hip pocket to ascertain that my weapon was safe.
I wished to see miss Elma Heath. The old nun nodded,
fumbling with her lantern. I glanced at my watch and
found that it was already two o'clock in the morning.
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Remember that if you are discovered here, you exonerate me
of all blame, she said, raising her head and peering
into my face with her keen gray eyes, by admitting
you I am betraying my trust, and that I should
not have done were it not compulsory. Compulsory how the
order of the chief of police. Even here we cannot
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afford to offend him. So the fellow Baransky had really
kept faith with me, and at his order the closed
door of the convent had been opened. Of course, not,
I answered. Russian officialdom is all powerful in Finland nowadays.
But where is the lady? You are still prepared to
risk your liberty in life? She asked, in a hoarse
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voice full of grim meaning. I am, I said, Lead
me to her, and when you see her, you will
make no effort to speak with her. Promise me that
a sister, I cried, You are asking too great a
sacrifice of me. I come here from England, nay from Italy,
in search of her, to question her regarding a strange
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mystery and to learn the truth. Surely I may be
permitted to speak with her. You wish to learn the truth, sir,
remarked the wutman. I thought you were her lover, that
you merely wished to see her once again. No I
am not her lover, I answered, Indeed we have never
yet met. But I am in search of the truth
from her own lips. That you will never learn, she said,
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in a hard changed voice, Because there is a conspiracy
to preserve the secret, I cried. But I intend to
solve the mystery, and for that reason I have traveled
here from England. The woman with the lantern smiled sadly,
as though amused by my impetuosity. You are on Russian
soil now, monsieur, not English, she remarked in her broken English.
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If your object were known, you would never be spared
to return to your own land. Ah, she sighed, you
do not know the mysteries and terrors of Finland. I
am a French subject, born at Tours and brought to
Helsingsfors when I was fifteen. I have been in Finland
forty five years. Once we were happy here, but since
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the Czar appointed Baron Oberg to be governor general. And
she shrugged her shoulders without finishing her sentence. Baron Oberg
Governor General of Finland. I guessped, certainly, did you not know?
She said, dropping into French. It is four years now
that he has held supreme power to crush and russify
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these poor Finns. Ah, Monsieur, this country wants so prosperous
is a blot upon the face of Europe. His methods
are the worst and most unscrupulous of any employed by Russia.
Before he came here, he was the best, most hated
man in Petersburg. And that, they say, is why the
Emperor sent him to us. And he is uncle of
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this young lady, Elma Heath uncle. Ah, I don't know that, Monsieur.
I have never been told so his niece, poor young lady.
Can that be? Surely not? Why not? I asked? But
the woman gave me no reason. She only exhibited her
palms and sighed. She seemed to have compassion upon the girl.
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I sought. Her heart was really softer than I had
believed it to be. Where does this baron live? I asked,
surprised that he should occupy so high a place in
Russian officialdom? The representative of the Tsar, with powers as
great as the Emperor himself at the government Palace in Helsingfors,
and Elma Heath is here in this grim fortress. Why, ah, monsieur,
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how can I tell? By reason of family secrets? Perhaps
they account for so much, you know, that is exactly
my opinion, I said. She has been brought here against
her will. Most probably this is not a cheerful place.
As you see, we have five months of ice and snow,
and for four months are practically cut off from civilization.
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And see no new face. Terrible, I gasped, glancing round
at those dark stone walls that seemed to breathe an
air of tragedy and mystery. The old castle had, I supposed,
been turned into a convent, as many have been in
Germany and Austria back in feudal times. It, no doubt
had been a grand old place. And have you been
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here long? I asked? Seven years? Only? But I am leaving,
even I used as I am, to a solitary life.
Can stand it? No longer, I feel that its cold
silence and dreariness will drive me mad. In winter, the
place is like an ice well. The fact that the
baron was ruler of Finland amazed me, for I had
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half expect acted him to be some clever adventurer. Yet
as the events of the past flashed through my brain,
I recollected that in rannoch Wood had been found the
miniature of the Russian Order of Saint Anne, a distinction
which in all probability had been conferred upon him. If so,
the coincidence, to say the least, was a remarkable one.
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I questioned my companion further regarding the Baron ah Monsieur,
She declared, they call him the strangler of the Finns.
It was he who ordered the peasants of Casco to
be flogged until four of them died, and the Czar
gave him the Star of White Eagle for it. He
who suppressed half the newspapers and put eighteen editors in
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prison for publishing a report at the meeting of the
Swedes in Helsingfors. He who encourages corruption and bribery among
the officials for the furtherance of Russian interests. He who
has ordered Russian to be the official language, who has
restricted public education, who has overtaxed and ground down the people,
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until now the mine is laid and Finland is ready
for open revolt. The prisons are filled with the innocent,
women are flogged, the poor are starving, and the Strangler,
as they called him, reports to the Czar that Finland
is submissive and is Russianized. I had heard something of
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this abominable state of affairs from time to time from
the English press, but had never taken notice of the
name of the oppressor. So the uncle of Elma Heath
was the Strangler of Finland, the man who in four
years had reduced a prosperous country to a state of
ruin and revolt. Can I not see her, i asked,
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feeling that we had remained too long there. If my
presence in that place was perilous, the sooner I escaped
from it, the better. Yes, come, she said, but silence,
walks softly, and holding up the old horn lantern to
give me light, she led me out into the low
Stone corridor, again, conducting me through a number of intricate passages,
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all bare and gloomy, the stones worn hollow by the
feet of ages. On we crept noiselessly past a number
of low arched doors, stud it with big nails in
the style of generations ago. Then turning suddenly at right angles,
I saw that we were in a kind of culdisac,
before the door of which at the end she stopped
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and placed her finger upon her lips, Then motioning me
to remain here, she entered, closing the door after her
and leaving me in the pitch darkness. I strained my ears,
but could hear no sound save that of someone moving within.
No word was uttered, or if so, it was whispered
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so low that it did not reach me. For nearly
five minutes, I waited in impatience outside that closed door,
until again the handle and my conductress beckoned me in silence.
Within I stepped into a small square chamber, the floor
of which was carpeted, and where suspended high above was
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a lamp that shed but a faint light over the
barely furnished place. It seemed to me to be a
kind of sitting room, with a plain deal table and
a couple of chairs, but there was no stove, and
the place looked chill and comfortless. Beyond was another smaller room,
into which the old nun disappeared for a moment. Then
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she came forth, leading a strange, wan little figure in
a gray gown, a figure whose face was the most
perfect and most lovely I had ever seen. Her wealth
of chested hair fell disheveled about her shoulders, and as
her hands were clasped before her, she looked straight at
me in surprise. As she was led towards me, she
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walked but feebly, and her countenance was deathly pale. Her
dress as she came beneath the lamp was I saw
coarse yet clean, and her beautiful regular features, which in
her photograph had held me in such fascination, were even
more sweet and more matchless than I had believed them
to be. I stood before her, dumbfounded in admiration. In silence.
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She bowed gracefully, and then looked at me with astonishment,
apparently wondering what I, a perfect stranger, required of her.
Miss Elma Heath, I presume, I exclaimed, at last, May
I introduce myself to you. My name is Gordon Gregg,
English by birth, Cosmopolitan by instinct. I have come here
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to ask you a question, A question that concerns yourself.
Lydia Morton has sent me to you. I noticed that
her great brown eyes watched my lips and not my face.
Her own lips moved, but she looked at me with
an inexpressible sadness. No sound escaped her. I stood rigid
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before her as one turned to stone, for in that instant,
in a flash, indeed, I realized the awful truth she
was both deaf and dumb. She raised her clasped hands
to me in silence, yet with tears welling in her
splendid eyes. I saw that upon her wrist were a
pair of bright steel jeeves. What is this place, I
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demanded of the woman in the religious habit, when I
recovered from the shock of the poor girl's terrible affliction.
Where am i? This is the castle of Kajana, the
criminal lunatic asylum of Finland, was her answer. The prisoner,
as you see, has lost both speech and hearing. Deaf
and dumb, I cried, looking at the beautiful original of
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that destroyed photograph on board the Lola. But she has
surely not always been so, I exclaimed, No, I think
not always, replied the sister quietly. But you said you
intended to question her, And did I not tell you
that to learn the truth was impossible? But she can
write responses to my questions, I argued, alas, no, was
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the old woman's whispered reply. Her mind is affected. She is,
unfortunately a hopeless lunatic. I looked straight into those sad,
wide open yet unflinching brown eyes, utterly confounded. Those white
wrists held in steel, that pale face and blanched lips,
the inertness of her movements all told their own tragic tale.
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And yet that letter I had read, dictated in secret,
most probably because her hands were not free, was certainly
not the outpourings of a mad woman. She had spoken
of death, it was true. Yet was it not to
be supposed that she was slowly being driven to suicide?
She had kept her secret, and she wished the man
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hornby the man who was to marry Muriel lithecourt to know.
The room in which we stood evidently an apartment set
apart for her use. For beyond was the tiny bed chamber.
Yet the small, high up window was closely barred, and
the cold, bareness of the prison was sufficient, indeed to
cause anyone confined there to prefer death to captivity. Again,
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I spoke to her, slowly and kindly, but there was
no response. That she was absolutely dumb was only too apparent.
Yet surely she had not always been so. I had
gone in search of her because the beauty of her
portrait had magnetized me, and I had now found her
to be even more lovely than her picture, yet alas
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suffering from an affliction that rendered her life a tragedy.
The realization of the terrible truth staggered me. Such a
perfect face as hers I had never before set eyes upon,
so beautiful, so clear cut, so refined, so eminently, the
countenance of one well born, and yet so ineffably sad,
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so full of blank, unutterable despair. She placed her clasped
hands to her mouth and made signs by shaking her
head that she could neither understand nor respond. I therefore
took my wallet from my pocket and wrote upon a
piece of paper in a large hand, the words I
come from Lyddia Morton. My name is Gordon Gregg. When
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her eager gaze fell upon the words, she became instantly
filled with excitement and nodded quickly, then, holding her steel
clamped wrists towards me. She looked wistfully at me, as
though imploring me to release her from the awful bondage.
In that silent too, though the woman who had led
me there endeavored to prevent it, I handed her the
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pencil and placed the paper on the table for her
to write. The nun tried to snatch it up, but
I held her arm gently and forcibly, saying in French, no,
I wished to see if she is really insane, you
will at least allow me this satisfaction. And while we
were in altercation, Elma, with the pencil in her fingers,
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tried to write, but by reason of her hands being
bound so closely, was unable at length. However, after several attempts,
she succeeded in printing, in uneven capitals the response I
know you. You were on the yacht. I thought they
killed you. The thin faced old woman saw her response
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a reply that was surely rational enough, and her brows
contracted with displeasure. Why are you here, I wrote, not
allowing the sister to get sight of my question. In response,
she wrote, painfully and laboriously, I am condemned for a
crime I did not commit. Take me from here, or
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I shall kill myself, ah exclaimed the old woman. You see,
poor girl, she believes herself innocent. They all do. But
why is she here, I demanded fiercely. I do not know, monsieur.
It is not my duty to inquire the history of
their crimes. When they are ill, I nurse them, that
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is all. And who is the commandant of this fortress,
Colonel Smirnoff. If he knew that I had admitted you,
you would never leave this place alive. This is the
Schusselberg of Finland, the place of imprisonment for those who
have conspired against the state, the prison of political conspirators.
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Eh alas, monsieur, yes, the place in which some of
the poor creatures are tortured in order to obtain confessions
and information with as much cruelty as in the black
days of the Inquisition. These walls are thick, and their
cries are not heard from the ubliettes below the lake.
I had long ago heard of the horrors of Schusselberg. Indeed,
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who has not heard of them? Who has traveled in Russia?
The very mention of the modern bastille on Lake Ladoga,
where no prisoner has ever been known to come forth
alive is sufficient to cause any Russian to turn pale.
And I was in the Schusselberg of Finland. I turned
over the sheet of paper and wrote the question, did
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Baron Oberg send you here? In response, she printed the
words I believe so I was arrested in helsingfors tell Lydia.
Where I am. Do you know Murial Lifecourt? I inquired
by the same means, whereupon she replied that they were
at school together. Did you see me on board the Lola?
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I wrote, yes, but I could not warn you, although
I had overheard their intentions. They took me ashore when
you had gone to Siena. After three days, I found
myself deaf and mute. I was made. So her allegation
startled me. She had been purposely afflicted. Who did it?
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A doctor? I suppose they put me under chloroform? Who
people who said they were my friends? I turned to
the woman in the religious habit and cried, do you
see what she has written? She has been made by
some friend who intended that the secret she holds should
be kept. They feared to kill her, so they bribed
a doctor to deliberately operate upon her. So that she
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could neither speak nor hear, and now they are driving
her to suicide. Monsieur, I am astounded, declared the nun.
I have always believed that she was not in her
right mind. Yet assuredly she seems to be as saying
as I am, only wilfully mutilated by some pretended friend
who determined that no further word should pass her lips.
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A shameful mutation has been committed upon this poor, defenseless girl,
I cried in anger, and I will make it my
duty to discover and punish the perpetrators of it. I, monsieur,
do not act rashly. I pray of you, the woman said, seriously,
placing her hand upon my arm, recollect you are in Finland,
where the Baron Oberg is all powerful. I do not
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fear the Baron Oberg, I exclaimed. If necessary, I will
appeal to the Tsar himself. Mademoiselle is kept here for
the reason that she is in possession of some secret.
She must be released. I will take the responsibility, but
you must not try to release her from here. It
would mean death to you both. The Castle of Kajana
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tells no secrets of those who die within its walls,
or of those cast headlong into its waters and forgotten again.
I turned to Alma, who stood in anxious wonder of
the subject of our conversation, and had suddenly taken the
old nun's hand and kissed it affectionately, perhaps in order
to show me that she had trusted her. Then upon
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the paper, I wrote, is the Baron Oberg your uncle?
She shook her head in the negative, showing that the
dreaded Governor General of Finland had only acted apart towards her,
in which she had been compelled to concur. Who is
Philip Hornby, I inquired, writing rapidly, my friend, at least
I believe so friend, and I had all along believed
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him to be an adventurer and an enemy. Why did
he go to le Gorn, I asked, for a secret purpose.
There was a plot to kill you, only I managed
to thwart them, were the words she printed with much labor.
Then I owe my life to you, I wrote, and
in return, I will do my utmost to rescue you
from here if you do not fear to place yourself
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in my hands. And to this, she replied, I shall
be thankful, for I cannot bear this awful place longer.
I believe they must torture the women here. They will
torture me some day. Do your best to get me
out of here, and I will tell you everything. But
she wrote, I fear you can never secure my release.
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I am confined here on a life sentence. But you
are English, and if you have had no trial, I
can complain to our ambassador. No, I am a Russian subject.
I was born in Russia and went to England when
I was a girl. That altered the case entirely. As
a subject of the Czar in her own country, she
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was amenable to that disgraceful blot upon civilization that allows
a person to be consigned to prison at the will
of a high official, without trial, and without being afforded
any opportunity of appeal. I therefore at once saw a difficulty.
Yet she promised to tell me the truth if I
could but secure her release. A flood of recollections of
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the amazing mystery swept through my mind. A thousand questions
arose within me, all of which I desired to ask her.
But there in that noisome prison house, it was impossible.
As I stood there, a woman's shrill scream of excruciating
pain reached me. Notwithstanding those Cyclopeans, some unfortunate prisoner was
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perhaps being tortured and confession wrung from her lips. I
shuddered at the unspeakable horrors of that grim fortress. Could
I allow this refined, defenseless girl to remain an inmate
of that bastille the terrors of which I had heard
men in Russia hint at with bated breath. They had
wilfully maimed her and deprived her of both hearing and
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the power of speech. And now they intended that she
should be driven mad by that silence and loneliness that
must always end in insanity. I have decided, I said, suddenly,
turning to the woman who had conducted me there, and
having now removed the steel bonds of the prisoner with
a key she secretly carried, stood with folded hands in
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the calm attitude of the religious. You will not act
with rashness, she implored, in quick apprehension. Remember your life
is at stake as well as my own. Her enemies
intended that I too should die, I answered, looking straight
into those deep, mysterious brown eyes which held me as
beneath a spell. They have drawn her into their power
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because she had no means of defense. But I will
assume the position of her friend and protect her. How
the man is awaiting me in the boat outside. I
intend to take her with me. But monsieur, why that
is impossible, cried the old woman in a hoarse voice.
If you were discovered by the guards who patrol the
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lake both night and day, they would shoot you both.
I will risk it, I said, and without another word,
dashed into the tiny bed chamber and tore an old
brown blanket from off the narrow truckle bed. Then, linking
my arm in that of the woman, whose lovely countenance
had verily become the son of my existence, I made
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a sign inviting her to accompany me. The sister barred
the door, urging me to reconsider my decision. Leave her
alone in secret and act as you will appeal to
the baron to the Czar. But do not attempt bajour
to rescue a prisoner from here, for it is an impossibility.
The man who brought you here for Abo will not
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dare to accept such responsibility. Come, I said to Alma,
Although at last she could not hear my voice, Let
us at least make a dash for freedom. She recognized
my intentions in a moment and allowed herself to be
conducted down the long, intricate corridor, walking stealthily and making
no noise. I had seized the old horn lantern, and
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as the nun held back, not daring to accompany us,
we stolled on alone, turning back along stone corridor until
I recognized the door of the room to which I
had been first conducted. All was silent, and as we
crept along on tiptoe, I felt the girl's grip upon
my arm, a grip that told me that she placed
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her faith in me as her deliverer. I owned that
it was a rash and headstrong act, for even beyond
the lake, how could we ever hope to penetrate those interminable,
inhospitable force, so far from any hiding place. Yet I
felt it my duty to attempt the rescue, And besides,
had not her marvelous beauty enmeshed me, had I not felt,
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by some unaccountable intuition at the first moment we had met,
that our lives were linked in the future. She clung
to me as though fearful of discovery. As we went
forward in silence, along that dark, low corridor, where I
knew the strong door in the tower opened upon the lake.
Once in the boat, we could row back to where
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the horses awaited us, and then away. The woman had
not arrested our progress or raised an alarm. After all,
once I had mistrusted her, but I now saw that
her heart was really filled with pity for the poor
girl now at my side. Without a sound, we crept
forward until within a few yards from that unlocked door
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where the boat awaited us below, when all of a sudden,
the uncertain light of a lantern fell upon something that
shone at A deep voice cried out of the darkness
in Russian halt. Were I fire and startled, We found
ourselves looking down the muzzle of a loaded carbine. This
is the end of Chapter eleven, Part one. Recording by
(30:26):
Tom Weiss.
Chapter eleven of The Tsar Spy. This Liebervox recording is
in the public domain recording by Tom Weiss. The Tsar's
Spy by William Leque, Chapter eleven, The Castle of the Terror,
Part one. The big Finn had I found tied up
(00:22):
his horses, and in the heavy old boat. He rowed
me down the swollen river, which ran swift and turbulent
around a bend, and then seemed to open out to
a great width. In the starlight, I could distinguish that
it stretched gray and level to a distance, and that
the opposite bank was fringed with pines. Where are we going,
I asked my guide in a low voice, but he
(00:44):
only whispered, hush, excellency, remain patient, and you shall see
the young englishwoman. So I sat in the boat while
he allowed it to drift with the current, steering it
with the great heavy oars. The river suddenly narrowed again, again,
with high pines on either bank, a silent, lonesome reach,
perhaps indeed one of the loneliest spots in all Europe.
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Once the dismal howl of a wolf sounded close to
where we passed, but my guide made no remark. After
nearly a mile, the stream again opened out into a
broad lake, where in the distance I saw, rising sheer
and high from the water, a long square building of
three stories, with a tall round tower at one corner,
(01:30):
an old medieval castle. It seemed to be from one
of the small windows of the tower. As we came
into view of it, a light was shining upon the water,
and my guide, seeing it, grunted in satisfaction it had
undoubtedly been placed there as signal. With great caution, he
approached the place, keeping in the deep shadow of the
(01:51):
bank until we came exactly opposite the flanking tower. In
the lighted window, I distinctly saw a dark figure of
someone appear for a moment, and then my guide struck
a match and held it in his fingers until it
was wholly consumed. Almost instantly the light was extinguished, and then,
after waiting five minutes or so, he pulled straight across
(02:13):
the lake to the high, dark tower that descended into
the water. The place was as grim and silent as
any I had ever seen, an impregnable stronghold of the
days before siege guns were invented, the fortress of some
feudal prince or count who had probably held the surrounding
country in Thraldom. I put my hand against the black,
(02:35):
slimy wall to prevent the boat bumping, and then distinguished
just beyond me a small wooden ledge and half a
dozen steps, which led up to a low arched door.
The latter had opened noiselessly, and the dark figure of
a woman stood peering forth. My guide uttered some reassuring
word and finished in a low half whisper, then slowly
(02:57):
pushed the boat along the edge, saying, your high nobility
may disembark. There is at present no danger. I rose,
gripped a big rusty chain to steady myself, and climbed
into the narrow doorway in the ponderous wall, where I
found myself in the darkness beside the female, who had
apparently been expecting our arrival and watching our signal. Without
(03:20):
a word, she led me through a short passage and then,
striking a match, lit a big old fashioned lantern. As
the light fell upon her features, I saw they were
thin and hard, with deep set eyes, and a stray
wisp of silver across her wrinkled brow. Around her head
was a kind of hood of the same stuff as
her dress. A black coarse woolen, while around her neck
(03:44):
was a broad linen collar. In an instant I recognized
that she was a member of some religious order, some
minor order, perhaps with whose habit we in Italy were
not acquainted. The thin, acidic countenance was that of a
woman of strong character, and her few unureal habits seemed
much too large for her stunded, shrunken figure. The sister
(04:05):
speaks French, I hazarded in Lan language, knowing that it
most convents throughout Europe French is known. We monsieur, was
her answer, and a little English too, a very little,
she smiled. You know why I am here, I said,
gratified that at least one person in that lonesome country
could speak my own tongue. Yes, I have already been told,
(04:27):
was her answer, with a strong accent, as we stood
in that small, bare stone room, a semi circular chamber
in the tower, once perhaps a prison. But are you
not afraid to venture here? She asked? Why? Well, because
no strangers are permitted here. You know, if your present
here was discovered, you would not leave this place alive.
(04:50):
So I warn you I am prepared to risk that,
I said, smiling at the same time, my hand instinctively
sought my hip pocket to ascertain that my weapon was safe.
I wished to see miss Elma Heath. The old nun nodded,
fumbling with her lantern. I glanced at my watch and
found that it was already two o'clock in the morning.
(05:12):
Remember that if you are discovered here, you exonerate me
of all blame, she said, raising her head and peering
into my face with her keen gray eyes, by admitting
you I am betraying my trust, and that I should
not have done were it not compulsory. Compulsory how the
order of the chief of police. Even here we cannot
(05:33):
afford to offend him. So the fellow Baransky had really
kept faith with me, and at his order the closed
door of the convent had been opened. Of course, not,
I answered. Russian officialdom is all powerful in Finland nowadays.
But where is the lady? You are still prepared to
risk your liberty in life? She asked, in a hoarse
(05:54):
voice full of grim meaning. I am, I said, Lead
me to her, and when you see her, you will
make no effort to speak with her. Promise me that
a sister, I cried, You are asking too great a
sacrifice of me. I come here from England, nay from Italy,
in search of her, to question her regarding a strange
(06:16):
mystery and to learn the truth. Surely I may be
permitted to speak with her. You wish to learn the truth, sir,
remarked the wutman. I thought you were her lover, that
you merely wished to see her once again. No I
am not her lover, I answered, Indeed we have never
yet met. But I am in search of the truth
from her own lips. That you will never learn, she said,
(06:40):
in a hard changed voice, Because there is a conspiracy
to preserve the secret, I cried. But I intend to
solve the mystery, and for that reason I have traveled
here from England. The woman with the lantern smiled sadly,
as though amused by my impetuosity. You are on Russian
soil now, monsieur, not English, she remarked in her broken English.
(07:03):
If your object were known, you would never be spared
to return to your own land. Ah, she sighed, you
do not know the mysteries and terrors of Finland. I
am a French subject, born at Tours and brought to
Helsingsfors when I was fifteen. I have been in Finland
forty five years. Once we were happy here, but since
(07:25):
the Czar appointed Baron Oberg to be governor general. And
she shrugged her shoulders without finishing her sentence. Baron Oberg
Governor General of Finland. I guessped, certainly, did you not know?
She said, dropping into French. It is four years now
that he has held supreme power to crush and russify
(07:45):
these poor Finns. Ah, Monsieur, this country wants so prosperous
is a blot upon the face of Europe. His methods
are the worst and most unscrupulous of any employed by Russia.
Before he came here, he was the best, most hated
man in Petersburg. And that, they say, is why the
Emperor sent him to us. And he is uncle of
(08:07):
this young lady, Elma Heath uncle. Ah, I don't know that, Monsieur.
I have never been told so his niece, poor young lady.
Can that be? Surely not? Why not? I asked? But
the woman gave me no reason. She only exhibited her
palms and sighed. She seemed to have compassion upon the girl.
(08:29):
I sought. Her heart was really softer than I had
believed it to be. Where does this baron live? I asked,
surprised that he should occupy so high a place in
Russian officialdom? The representative of the Tsar, with powers as
great as the Emperor himself at the government Palace in Helsingfors,
and Elma Heath is here in this grim fortress. Why, ah, monsieur,
(08:53):
how can I tell? By reason of family secrets? Perhaps
they account for so much, you know, that is exactly
my opinion, I said. She has been brought here against
her will. Most probably this is not a cheerful place.
As you see, we have five months of ice and snow,
and for four months are practically cut off from civilization.
(09:15):
And see no new face. Terrible, I gasped, glancing round
at those dark stone walls that seemed to breathe an
air of tragedy and mystery. The old castle had, I supposed,
been turned into a convent, as many have been in
Germany and Austria back in feudal times. It, no doubt
had been a grand old place. And have you been
(09:37):
here long? I asked? Seven years? Only? But I am leaving,
even I used as I am, to a solitary life.
Can stand it? No longer, I feel that its cold
silence and dreariness will drive me mad. In winter, the
place is like an ice well. The fact that the
baron was ruler of Finland amazed me, for I had
(09:59):
half expect acted him to be some clever adventurer. Yet
as the events of the past flashed through my brain,
I recollected that in rannoch Wood had been found the
miniature of the Russian Order of Saint Anne, a distinction
which in all probability had been conferred upon him. If so,
the coincidence, to say the least, was a remarkable one.
(10:22):
I questioned my companion further regarding the Baron ah Monsieur,
She declared, they call him the strangler of the Finns.
It was he who ordered the peasants of Casco to
be flogged until four of them died, and the Czar
gave him the Star of White Eagle for it. He
who suppressed half the newspapers and put eighteen editors in
(10:44):
prison for publishing a report at the meeting of the
Swedes in Helsingfors. He who encourages corruption and bribery among
the officials for the furtherance of Russian interests. He who
has ordered Russian to be the official language, who has
restricted public education, who has overtaxed and ground down the people,
(11:04):
until now the mine is laid and Finland is ready
for open revolt. The prisons are filled with the innocent,
women are flogged, the poor are starving, and the Strangler,
as they called him, reports to the Czar that Finland
is submissive and is Russianized. I had heard something of
(11:25):
this abominable state of affairs from time to time from
the English press, but had never taken notice of the
name of the oppressor. So the uncle of Elma Heath
was the Strangler of Finland, the man who in four
years had reduced a prosperous country to a state of
ruin and revolt. Can I not see her, i asked,
(11:46):
feeling that we had remained too long there. If my
presence in that place was perilous, the sooner I escaped
from it, the better. Yes, come, she said, but silence,
walks softly, and holding up the old horn lantern to
give me light, she led me out into the low
Stone corridor, again, conducting me through a number of intricate passages,
(12:08):
all bare and gloomy, the stones worn hollow by the
feet of ages. On we crept noiselessly past a number
of low arched doors, stud it with big nails in
the style of generations ago. Then turning suddenly at right angles,
I saw that we were in a kind of culdisac,
before the door of which at the end she stopped
(12:30):
and placed her finger upon her lips, Then motioning me
to remain here, she entered, closing the door after her
and leaving me in the pitch darkness. I strained my ears,
but could hear no sound save that of someone moving within.
No word was uttered, or if so, it was whispered
(12:51):
so low that it did not reach me. For nearly
five minutes, I waited in impatience outside that closed door,
until again the handle and my conductress beckoned me in silence.
Within I stepped into a small square chamber, the floor
of which was carpeted, and where suspended high above was
(13:11):
a lamp that shed but a faint light over the
barely furnished place. It seemed to me to be a
kind of sitting room, with a plain deal table and
a couple of chairs, but there was no stove, and
the place looked chill and comfortless. Beyond was another smaller room,
into which the old nun disappeared for a moment. Then
(13:32):
she came forth, leading a strange, wan little figure in
a gray gown, a figure whose face was the most
perfect and most lovely I had ever seen. Her wealth
of chested hair fell disheveled about her shoulders, and as
her hands were clasped before her, she looked straight at
me in surprise. As she was led towards me, she
(13:54):
walked but feebly, and her countenance was deathly pale. Her
dress as she came beneath the lamp was I saw
coarse yet clean, and her beautiful regular features, which in
her photograph had held me in such fascination, were even
more sweet and more matchless than I had believed them
to be. I stood before her, dumbfounded in admiration. In silence.
(14:19):
She bowed gracefully, and then looked at me with astonishment,
apparently wondering what I, a perfect stranger, required of her.
Miss Elma Heath, I presume, I exclaimed, at last, May
I introduce myself to you. My name is Gordon Gregg,
English by birth, Cosmopolitan by instinct. I have come here
(14:42):
to ask you a question, A question that concerns yourself.
Lydia Morton has sent me to you. I noticed that
her great brown eyes watched my lips and not my face.
Her own lips moved, but she looked at me with
an inexpressible sadness. No sound escaped her. I stood rigid
(15:02):
before her as one turned to stone, for in that instant,
in a flash, indeed, I realized the awful truth she
was both deaf and dumb. She raised her clasped hands
to me in silence, yet with tears welling in her
splendid eyes. I saw that upon her wrist were a
pair of bright steel jeeves. What is this place, I
(15:25):
demanded of the woman in the religious habit, when I
recovered from the shock of the poor girl's terrible affliction.
Where am i? This is the castle of Kajana, the
criminal lunatic asylum of Finland, was her answer. The prisoner,
as you see, has lost both speech and hearing. Deaf
and dumb, I cried, looking at the beautiful original of
(15:48):
that destroyed photograph on board the Lola. But she has
surely not always been so, I exclaimed, No, I think
not always, replied the sister quietly. But you said you
intended to question her, And did I not tell you
that to learn the truth was impossible? But she can
write responses to my questions, I argued, alas, no, was
(16:10):
the old woman's whispered reply. Her mind is affected. She is,
unfortunately a hopeless lunatic. I looked straight into those sad,
wide open yet unflinching brown eyes, utterly confounded. Those white
wrists held in steel, that pale face and blanched lips,
the inertness of her movements all told their own tragic tale.
(16:33):
And yet that letter I had read, dictated in secret,
most probably because her hands were not free, was certainly
not the outpourings of a mad woman. She had spoken
of death, it was true. Yet was it not to
be supposed that she was slowly being driven to suicide?
She had kept her secret, and she wished the man
(16:53):
hornby the man who was to marry Muriel lithecourt to know.
The room in which we stood evidently an apartment set
apart for her use. For beyond was the tiny bed chamber.
Yet the small, high up window was closely barred, and
the cold, bareness of the prison was sufficient, indeed to
cause anyone confined there to prefer death to captivity. Again,
(17:17):
I spoke to her, slowly and kindly, but there was
no response. That she was absolutely dumb was only too apparent.
Yet surely she had not always been so. I had
gone in search of her because the beauty of her
portrait had magnetized me, and I had now found her
to be even more lovely than her picture, yet alas
(17:40):
suffering from an affliction that rendered her life a tragedy.
The realization of the terrible truth staggered me. Such a
perfect face as hers I had never before set eyes upon,
so beautiful, so clear cut, so refined, so eminently, the
countenance of one well born, and yet so ineffably sad,
(18:02):
so full of blank, unutterable despair. She placed her clasped
hands to her mouth and made signs by shaking her
head that she could neither understand nor respond. I therefore
took my wallet from my pocket and wrote upon a
piece of paper in a large hand, the words I
come from Lyddia Morton. My name is Gordon Gregg. When
(18:28):
her eager gaze fell upon the words, she became instantly
filled with excitement and nodded quickly, then, holding her steel
clamped wrists towards me. She looked wistfully at me, as
though imploring me to release her from the awful bondage.
In that silent too, though the woman who had led
me there endeavored to prevent it, I handed her the
(18:49):
pencil and placed the paper on the table for her
to write. The nun tried to snatch it up, but
I held her arm gently and forcibly, saying in French, no,
I wished to see if she is really insane, you
will at least allow me this satisfaction. And while we
were in altercation, Elma, with the pencil in her fingers,
(19:11):
tried to write, but by reason of her hands being
bound so closely, was unable at length. However, after several attempts,
she succeeded in printing, in uneven capitals the response I
know you. You were on the yacht. I thought they
killed you. The thin faced old woman saw her response
(19:33):
a reply that was surely rational enough, and her brows
contracted with displeasure. Why are you here, I wrote, not
allowing the sister to get sight of my question. In response,
she wrote, painfully and laboriously, I am condemned for a
crime I did not commit. Take me from here, or
(19:53):
I shall kill myself, ah exclaimed the old woman. You see,
poor girl, she believes herself innocent. They all do. But
why is she here, I demanded fiercely. I do not know, monsieur.
It is not my duty to inquire the history of
their crimes. When they are ill, I nurse them, that
(20:14):
is all. And who is the commandant of this fortress,
Colonel Smirnoff. If he knew that I had admitted you,
you would never leave this place alive. This is the
Schusselberg of Finland, the place of imprisonment for those who
have conspired against the state, the prison of political conspirators.
(20:34):
Eh alas, monsieur, yes, the place in which some of
the poor creatures are tortured in order to obtain confessions
and information with as much cruelty as in the black
days of the Inquisition. These walls are thick, and their
cries are not heard from the ubliettes below the lake.
I had long ago heard of the horrors of Schusselberg. Indeed,
(20:56):
who has not heard of them? Who has traveled in Russia?
The very mention of the modern bastille on Lake Ladoga,
where no prisoner has ever been known to come forth
alive is sufficient to cause any Russian to turn pale.
And I was in the Schusselberg of Finland. I turned
over the sheet of paper and wrote the question, did
(21:16):
Baron Oberg send you here? In response, she printed the
words I believe so I was arrested in helsingfors tell Lydia.
Where I am. Do you know Murial Lifecourt? I inquired
by the same means, whereupon she replied that they were
at school together. Did you see me on board the Lola?
(21:37):
I wrote, yes, but I could not warn you, although
I had overheard their intentions. They took me ashore when
you had gone to Siena. After three days, I found
myself deaf and mute. I was made. So her allegation
startled me. She had been purposely afflicted. Who did it?
(21:58):
A doctor? I suppose they put me under chloroform? Who
people who said they were my friends? I turned to
the woman in the religious habit and cried, do you
see what she has written? She has been made by
some friend who intended that the secret she holds should
be kept. They feared to kill her, so they bribed
a doctor to deliberately operate upon her. So that she
(22:21):
could neither speak nor hear, and now they are driving
her to suicide. Monsieur, I am astounded, declared the nun.
I have always believed that she was not in her
right mind. Yet assuredly she seems to be as saying
as I am, only wilfully mutilated by some pretended friend
who determined that no further word should pass her lips.
(22:43):
A shameful mutation has been committed upon this poor, defenseless girl,
I cried in anger, and I will make it my
duty to discover and punish the perpetrators of it. I, monsieur,
do not act rashly. I pray of you, the woman said, seriously,
placing her hand upon my arm, recollect you are in Finland,
where the Baron Oberg is all powerful. I do not
(23:07):
fear the Baron Oberg, I exclaimed. If necessary, I will
appeal to the Tsar himself. Mademoiselle is kept here for
the reason that she is in possession of some secret.
She must be released. I will take the responsibility, but
you must not try to release her from here. It
would mean death to you both. The Castle of Kajana
(23:28):
tells no secrets of those who die within its walls,
or of those cast headlong into its waters and forgotten again.
I turned to Alma, who stood in anxious wonder of
the subject of our conversation, and had suddenly taken the
old nun's hand and kissed it affectionately, perhaps in order
to show me that she had trusted her. Then upon
(23:49):
the paper, I wrote, is the Baron Oberg your uncle?
She shook her head in the negative, showing that the
dreaded Governor General of Finland had only acted apart towards her,
in which she had been compelled to concur. Who is
Philip Hornby, I inquired, writing rapidly, my friend, at least
I believe so friend, and I had all along believed
(24:13):
him to be an adventurer and an enemy. Why did
he go to le Gorn, I asked, for a secret purpose.
There was a plot to kill you, only I managed
to thwart them, were the words she printed with much labor.
Then I owe my life to you, I wrote, and
in return, I will do my utmost to rescue you
from here if you do not fear to place yourself
(24:35):
in my hands. And to this, she replied, I shall
be thankful, for I cannot bear this awful place longer.
I believe they must torture the women here. They will
torture me some day. Do your best to get me
out of here, and I will tell you everything. But
she wrote, I fear you can never secure my release.
(24:55):
I am confined here on a life sentence. But you
are English, and if you have had no trial, I
can complain to our ambassador. No, I am a Russian subject.
I was born in Russia and went to England when
I was a girl. That altered the case entirely. As
a subject of the Czar in her own country, she
(25:17):
was amenable to that disgraceful blot upon civilization that allows
a person to be consigned to prison at the will
of a high official, without trial, and without being afforded
any opportunity of appeal. I therefore at once saw a difficulty.
Yet she promised to tell me the truth if I
could but secure her release. A flood of recollections of
(25:40):
the amazing mystery swept through my mind. A thousand questions
arose within me, all of which I desired to ask her.
But there in that noisome prison house, it was impossible.
As I stood there, a woman's shrill scream of excruciating
pain reached me. Notwithstanding those Cyclopeans, some unfortunate prisoner was
(26:03):
perhaps being tortured and confession wrung from her lips. I
shuddered at the unspeakable horrors of that grim fortress. Could
I allow this refined, defenseless girl to remain an inmate
of that bastille the terrors of which I had heard
men in Russia hint at with bated breath. They had
wilfully maimed her and deprived her of both hearing and
(26:26):
the power of speech. And now they intended that she
should be driven mad by that silence and loneliness that
must always end in insanity. I have decided, I said, suddenly,
turning to the woman who had conducted me there, and
having now removed the steel bonds of the prisoner with
a key she secretly carried, stood with folded hands in
(26:47):
the calm attitude of the religious. You will not act
with rashness, she implored, in quick apprehension. Remember your life
is at stake as well as my own. Her enemies
intended that I too should die, I answered, looking straight
into those deep, mysterious brown eyes which held me as
beneath a spell. They have drawn her into their power
(27:09):
because she had no means of defense. But I will
assume the position of her friend and protect her. How
the man is awaiting me in the boat outside. I
intend to take her with me. But monsieur, why that
is impossible, cried the old woman in a hoarse voice.
If you were discovered by the guards who patrol the
(27:30):
lake both night and day, they would shoot you both.
I will risk it, I said, and without another word,
dashed into the tiny bed chamber and tore an old
brown blanket from off the narrow truckle bed. Then, linking
my arm in that of the woman, whose lovely countenance
had verily become the son of my existence, I made
(27:50):
a sign inviting her to accompany me. The sister barred
the door, urging me to reconsider my decision. Leave her
alone in secret and act as you will appeal to
the baron to the Czar. But do not attempt bajour
to rescue a prisoner from here, for it is an impossibility.
The man who brought you here for Abo will not
(28:11):
dare to accept such responsibility. Come, I said to Alma,
Although at last she could not hear my voice, Let
us at least make a dash for freedom. She recognized
my intentions in a moment and allowed herself to be
conducted down the long, intricate corridor, walking stealthily and making
no noise. I had seized the old horn lantern, and
(28:35):
as the nun held back, not daring to accompany us,
we stolled on alone, turning back along stone corridor until
I recognized the door of the room to which I
had been first conducted. All was silent, and as we
crept along on tiptoe, I felt the girl's grip upon
my arm, a grip that told me that she placed
(28:56):
her faith in me as her deliverer. I owned that
it was a rash and headstrong act, for even beyond
the lake, how could we ever hope to penetrate those interminable,
inhospitable force, so far from any hiding place. Yet I
felt it my duty to attempt the rescue, And besides,
had not her marvelous beauty enmeshed me, had I not felt,
(29:20):
by some unaccountable intuition at the first moment we had met,
that our lives were linked in the future. She clung
to me as though fearful of discovery. As we went
forward in silence, along that dark, low corridor, where I
knew the strong door in the tower opened upon the lake.
Once in the boat, we could row back to where
(29:40):
the horses awaited us, and then away. The woman had
not arrested our progress or raised an alarm. After all,
once I had mistrusted her, but I now saw that
her heart was really filled with pity for the poor
girl now at my side. Without a sound, we crept
forward until within a few yards from that unlocked door
(30:03):
where the boat awaited us below, when all of a sudden,
the uncertain light of a lantern fell upon something that
shone at A deep voice cried out of the darkness
in Russian halt. Were I fire and startled, We found
ourselves looking down the muzzle of a loaded carbine. This
is the end of Chapter eleven, Part one. Recording by
(30:26):
Tom Weiss.
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