"I believe," he commented aloud, "the Baron would have challenged LaBarge in another minute. I have never known him to anger so quickly." "What do you think of him?"
Rotcheff put down his pipe, smiling to realize that they both understood of whom she was asking. "LaBarge? A damnably handsome man, and an able one, I'd say." There was something about that lean, dark face with its scar that sent a thrill of excitement through her. The way he had looked at her!--she flushed at the thought. But she had been most impressed by the confidence with which he replied to Zinnovy. "He is a dangerous man," she said thoughtfully, "and a man who knows where he is going."
Something prompted Rotcheff to say, "Dangerous to Zinnovy, you mean? Or to me?" "You?" She looked up quickly, then gathering his intent, she blushed again. "No one is dangerous to you, my love."
He was embarrassed. "I am sorry." He waved a hand, dismissing the comment. "I had no reason to say that. Only, he is very handsome, such a man as any woman would notice."
"I did not believe you saw such things."
Rotcheff laughed lightly. "When a man has a beautiful wife he had damned well better!" Dropping the bantering tone he added, "He can help us. Weber informed me that the wheat LaBarge has to sell is the only wheat available." "He will bring it to Sitka?"
"I doubt if other ships will be available. We have no real right to trade here, you know."
Rotcheff drank his coffee and smoked, the paper at one side. There was more to his trip than even Baron Zinnovy guessed. Reports had reached St. Petersburg that the Company was victimizing the natives, inflicting many cruelties upon them and hesitating at nothing in their grab for profits. If these rumors were proved true then the charter of the Company would not be renewed, nor would another charter be granted.
Alaska had long represented a problem to Russia, lying outside the continental limits as it did. Russia was a land rather than a sea power. War would leave Alaska exposed to seizure, and it was well known that Great Britain looked upon Russian America with acquisitive eyes. If war with Britain and France should again develop Alaska would be vulnerable and its loss a serious blow to Russian prestige in the Far East.
Rotcheff believed as did the Grand Duke that it was better to sell Alaska than risk its loss with the accompanying loss of face. And he knew California might be just the place to lay the groundwork for such a sale. There were men here accustomed to thinking on the grand scale; to men who have crossed a continent, won a state, and ripped open the earth for gold, the buying of Alaska would present no great problem.
LaBarge ... the man might actually be a government agent. No, he was thinking like a Russian again. The Americans were naive, something only time would cure, time and some great hurt. As yet they were unaccustomed to intrigue on the great scale. All but that man Franklin; too bad he was dead. The old Quaker had been a master in the field, perhaps the equal of Metternich. But in general American diplomatic success had so far been largely due to their bluntness of manner and the obviousness of their motives. It was a method calculated to cause the more subtle Europeans to suspect them of hidden objectives. It would be wise to talk to that young man again, even at the risk--he glanced at Helena--but it was no risk. The cynics said a man was a fool to trust a woman. Perhaps. Yet he trusted her.
"My husband?"
"Yes?"
"Be careful of the Baron. I have a feeling he knows why you are here, and that he has been sent here for the express purpose of defeating you." "You could be right." He pushed his empty cup away. "Helena, I wish you would arrange for me to talk to that young man ... in private." She was thoughtful. "Alexander, does it strike you at all that it might be significant that he owns wheat? The only wheat available?" He glanced at her curiously. "What do you mean?" "I am foolish, of course. But in a place where all seem to think of seeking gold or raising cattle it is surprising to find a man growing wheat on such a scale. And such a man. Suppose he wished to make a trip to Alaska? He must know that we buy supplies both here and in Hawaii, and what better way to come to Alaska unsuspected?"
Rotcheff rubbed his chin. Helena was thinking in European terms herself. On the other hand, in the case of LaBarge it might be the right way. "Are you merely surmising?" he suggested. "Or have you something on which to base this feeling?" "Mrs. Herndon told me her husband tried to buy wheat from Mr. LaBarge, and he would not sell. And the offered price was good." "I see ... of course, as he himself said, he is in the fur trade." "To let his wheat be wasted? No, I think he had other reasons. He might be saving his wheat for a wedge."
It was easy to understand a man who wanted something. Those were the obvious ones with whom it was simplest to deal. It was the idealists who worried him. He said as much.
"What of the idealists who pursue profits along with their ideals?" "They are worst of all," Rotcheff said. "The worst to deal with, I mean. They drive a hard bargain."
LaBarge ought be just such a man, but the only fact they possessed was that he was a fur trader, and without doubt there was fur in Russian America. That was motivation enough.
"Mrs. Herndon was telling me that Jean LaBarge has an obsession: he asks qustions about Alaska."
"She told you that?"