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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Book of All-Power, by Edgar Wallace
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Book of All-Power
+
+Author: Edgar Wallace
+
+Release Date: March 28, 2008 [EBook #24920]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander, Martin Pettit and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+BY
+
+EDGAR WALLACE
+
+WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
+LONDON AND MELBOURNE
+
+
+_Made and printed in Great Britain by_
+WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, LONDON.
+
+
+POPULAR NOVELS
+
+BY
+
+EDGAR WALLACE
+
+PUBLISHED BY
+
+WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED.
+
+_In Various Editions._
+
+SANDERS OF THE RIVER
+BONES
+BOSAMBO OF THE RIVER
+BONES IN LONDON
+THE KEEPERS OF THE KING'S PEACE
+THE COUNCIL OF JUSTICE
+THE DUKE IN THE SUBURBS
+THE PEOPLE OF THE RIVER
+DOWN UNDER DONOVAN
+PRIVATE SELBY
+THE ADMIRABLE CARFEW
+THE MAN WHO BOUGHT LONDON
+THE JUST MEN OF CORDOVA
+THE SECRET HOUSE
+KATE, PLUS TEN
+LIEUTENANT BONES
+THE ADVENTURES OF HEINE
+JACK O' JUDGMENT
+THE DAFFODIL MYSTERY
+THE NINE BEARS
+THE BOOK OF ALL POWER
+MR. JUSTICE MAXELL
+THE BOOKS OF BART
+THE DARK EYES OF LONDON
+CHICK
+SANDI, THE KING-MAKER
+THE THREE OAK MYSTERY
+THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE FROG
+BLUE HAND
+GREY TIMOTHY
+A DEBT DISCHARGED
+THOSE FOLK OF BULBORO'
+THE MAN WHO WAS NOBODY
+THE GREEN RUST
+THE FOURTH PLAGUE
+THE RIVER OF STARS
+
+
+To
+HARRY HUGHES-ONSLOW
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAP.                                          PAGE
+
+   I INTRODUCING MALCOLM HAY                      9
+  II A GUN-MAN REFUSES WORK                      24
+ III THE GRAND DUCHESS IRENE                     38
+  IV THE PRINCE WHO PLANNED                      56
+   V THE RAID ON THE SILVER LION                 67
+  VI PRINCE SERGANOFF PAYS THE PRICE             80
+ VII KENSKY OF KIEFF                             96
+VIII THE GRAND DUKE IS AFFABLE                  112
+  IX THE HAND AT THE WINDOW                     126
+   X TERROR IN MAKING                           139
+  XI THE COMMISSARY WITH THE CROOKED NOSE       152
+ XII IN THE PRISON OF ST. BASIL                 163
+XIII CHERRY BIM MAKES A STATEMENT               176
+ XIV IN THE HOLY VILLAGE                        191
+  XV THE RED BRIDE                              198
+  XVI THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER                     210
+ XVII ON THE ROAD                               221
+XVIII THE MONASTERY OF ST. BASIL THE LEPER      233
+  XIX THE END OF BOOLBA                         244
+      CHAPTER THE LAST                          253
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+INTRODUCING MALCOLM HAY
+
+
+If a man is not eager for adventure at the age of twenty-two, the
+enticement of romantic possibilities will never come to him.
+
+The chairman of the Ukraine Oil Company looked with a little amusement
+at the young man who sat on the edge of a chair by the chairman's desk,
+and noted how the eye of the youth had kindled at every fresh
+discouragement which the chairman had put forward. Enthusiasm, reflected
+the elder man, was one of the qualities which were most desirable in the
+man who was to accept the position which Malcolm Hay was at that moment
+considering.
+
+"Russia is a strange country," said Mr. Tremayne. "It is one of the
+mystery places of the world. You hear fellows coming back from China who
+tell you amazing stories of the idiosyncrasies of the Chink. But I can
+tell you, from my own personal observations, that the Chinaman is an
+open book in words of one syllable compared with the average Russian
+peasant. By the way, you speak Russian, I understand?"
+
+Hay nodded.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir," he said, "I have been talking Russian ever since I was
+sixteen, and I speak both the dialects."
+
+"Good!" nodded Mr. Tremayne. "Now, all that remains for you to do is to
+think both dialects. I was in Southern Russia attending to our wells for
+twenty years. In fact, long before our wells came into being, and I can
+honestly say that, though I am not by any means an unintelligent man, I
+know just as little about the Russian to-day as I did when I went there.
+He's the most elusive creature. You think you know him two days after
+you have met him. Two days later you find that you have changed all your
+opinions about him; and by the end of the first year, if you have kept a
+careful note of your observations and impressions in a diary, you will
+discover that you have three hundred and sixty-five different
+views--unless it happens to be a leap year."
+
+"What happens in a leap year?" asked the innocent Hay.
+
+"You have three hundred and sixty-six views," said the solemn Mr.
+Tremayne.
+
+He struck a bell.
+
+"We shan't want you to leave London for a week or two," he said, "and in
+the meantime you had better study up our own special literature. We can
+give you particulars about the country--that part of the country in
+which the wells are situated--which you will not find in the guidebooks.
+There are also a few notable personages whom it will be advisable for
+you to study."
+
+"I know most of them," said the youth with easy confidence. "As a matter
+of fact, I got the British Consul to send me a local directory and
+swotted it."
+
+Mr. Tremayne concealed a smile.
+
+"And what did the local directory say about Israel Kensky?" he asked
+innocently.
+
+"Israel Kensky?" said the puzzled youth. "I don't remember that name."
+
+"It is the only name worth remembering," said the other dryly, "and, by
+the way, you'll be able to study him in a strange environment, for he is
+in London at this moment."
+
+A clerk had answered the bell and stood waiting in the doorway.
+
+"Get Mr. Hay those books and pamphlets I spoke to you about," said
+Tremayne. "And, by the way, when did M. Kensky arrive?"
+
+"To-day," said the clerk.
+
+Tremayne nodded.
+
+"In fact," he said, "London this week will be filled with people whose
+names are not in your precious directory, and all of whom you should
+know. The Yaroslavs are paying a sort of state visit."
+
+"The Yaroslavs?" repeated Hay. "Oh, of course----"
+
+"The Grand Duke and his daughter," added Mr. Tremayne.
+
+"Well," smiled the young man, "I'm not likely to meet the Grand Duke or
+the Grand Duchess. I understand the royal family of Russia is a little
+exclusive."
+
+"Everything is likely in Russia," said the optimistic Mr. Tremayne. "If
+you come back in a few years' time and tell me that you've been
+appointed an admiral in the Russian Navy, or that you've married the
+Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav, I shall not for one moment disbelieve you.
+At the same time, if you come back from Russia without your ears, the
+same having been cut off by your peasant neighbours to propitiate the
+ghost of a martyr who died six hundred years ago, I shall not be
+surprised either. That is the country you're going to--and I envy you."
+
+"I'm a little surprised at myself," admitted Malcolm, "it seems almost
+incredible. Of course, sir, I have a lot to learn and I'm not placing
+too much reliance upon my degree."
+
+"Your science degree?" said Tremayne. "It may be useful, but a divinity
+degree would have been better."
+
+"A divinity degree?"
+
+Tremayne nodded.
+
+"It is religion you want in Russia, and especially local religion.
+You'll have to do a mighty lot of adapting when you're out there, Hay,
+and I don't think you could do better than get acquainted with the local
+saints. You'll find that the birth or death of four or five of them are
+celebrated every week, and that your workmen will take a day's holiday
+for each commemoration. If you're not pretty smart, they'll whip in a
+few saints who have no existence, and you'll get no work done at
+all--that will do."
+
+He ended the interview with a jerk of his head, and as the young man got
+to his feet to go, added: "Come back again to-morrow. I think you ought
+to see Kensky."
+
+"Who is he?" asked Hay courteously. "A local magnate?"
+
+"In a sense he is and in a sense he's not," said the careful Mr.
+Tremayne. "He's a big man locally, and from a business point of view, I
+suppose he is a magnate. However, you'll be able to judge for yourself."
+
+Malcolm Hay went out into the teeming streets of London, walking on air.
+It was his first appointment--he was earning money, and it seemed
+rather like a high-class dream.
+
+In Maida Vale there are many little side streets, composed of shabby
+houses covered with discoloured stucco, made all the more desolate and
+gloomy in appearance by the long and narrow strip of "garden" which runs
+out to the street. In one of these, devoted to the business of a
+boarding-house, an old man sat at a portable bench, under the one
+electric light which the economical landlady had allowed him. The room
+was furnished in a typically boarding-house style.
+
+But both the worker at the bench, and the woman who sat by the table,
+her chin on her palms, watching him, seemed unaffected by the poverty of
+their surroundings. The man was thin and bent of back. As he crouched
+over the bench, working with the fine tools on what was evidently
+intended to be the leather cover of a book, his face lay in the shadow,
+and only the end of his straggling white beard betrayed his age.
+
+Presently he looked up at the woman and revealed himself as a hawk-nosed
+man of sixty. His face was emaciated and seamed, and his dark eyes shone
+brightly. His companion was a woman of twenty-four, obviously of the
+Jewish type, as was the old man; what good looks she possessed were
+marred by the sneer on her lips.
+
+"If these English people see you at work," she said presently, "they
+will think you are some poor man, little father."
+
+Israel Kensky did not stop his work.
+
+"What book are you binding?" she asked after awhile. "Is it the Talmud
+which Levi Leviski gave you?"
+
+The old man did not answer, and a dark frown gathered on the woman's
+heavy face. You might not guess that they were father and daughter, yet
+such was the case. But between Sophia Kensky and her father there was
+neither communion of spirit nor friendship. It was amazing that she
+should accompany him, as she did, wherever he went, or that he should be
+content to have her as his companion. The gossips of Kieff had it that
+neither would trust the other out of sight; and it may be that there was
+something in this, though a stronger motive might be suspected in so far
+as Sophia's actions were concerned.
+
+Presently the old man put down his tools, blinked, and pushed back his
+chair.
+
+"It is a design for a great book," he said, and chuckled hoarsely. "A
+book with steel covers and wonderful pages." He smiled contemptuously.
+"The Book of All-Power," he said.
+
+"Little father, there are times when I think you are mad. For how can
+you know the secrets which are denied to others? And you who write so
+badly, how can you fill a great book with your writings?"
+
+"The Book of All-Power," repeated the man, and the smile on the woman's
+face grew broader.
+
+"A wonderful book!" she scoffed, "filled with magic and mystery and
+spells--do you wonder that we of Kieff suspect you?"
+
+"We of Kieff?" he repeated mockingly, and she nodded.
+
+"We of Kieff," she said.
+
+"So you are with the rabble, Sophia!" He lifted one shoulder in a
+contemptuous little gesture.
+
+"You are also of the rabble, Israel Kensky," she said. "Do you take your
+dinner in the Grand Duke's palace?"
+
+He was gathering together the tools on the table, and methodically
+fitting each graver into a big leather purse.
+
+"The Grand Duke does not stone me in the street, nor set fire to my
+houses," he said.
+
+"Nor the Grand Duchess," said the girl meaningly, and he looked at her
+from under his lowered brows.
+
+"The Grand Duchess is beyond the understanding of such as you," he said
+harshly, and the woman laughed.
+
+"There will come a day when she will be on her knees to me," she said
+prophetically, and she got up from the table with a heavy yawn. "That I
+promise myself, and with this promise I put myself to sleep every
+night."
+
+She went on and she spoke without heat.
+
+"I see her sweeping my floors and eating the bread I throw to her."
+
+Israel Kensky had heard all this before, and did not even smile.
+
+"You are an evil woman, Sophia," he said. "God knows how such a one
+could be a daughter of mine. What has the Grand Duchess done to you that
+you should harbour such venom?"
+
+"I hate her because she is," said the woman evenly. "I hate her not for
+the harm she has done me, but for the proud smile she gives to her
+slaves. I hate her because she is high and I am low, and because all the
+time she is marking the difference between us."
+
+"You are a fool," said Israel Kensky as he left the room.
+
+"Perhaps I am," said the woman, his daughter. "Are you going to bed
+now?"
+
+He turned in the doorway.
+
+"I am going to my room. I shall not come down again," he said.
+
+"Then I will sleep," she yawned prodigiously. "I hate this town."
+
+"Why did you come?" he asked. "I did not want you."
+
+"I came because you did not want me," said Sophia Kensky.
+
+Israel went to his room, closed the door and locked it. He listened and
+presently he heard the sound of his daughter's door close also and heard
+the snap of the key as it turned. But it was a double snap, and he knew
+that the sound was intended for him and that the second click was the
+unlocking of the door. She had locked and unlocked it in one motion. He
+waited, sitting in an arm-chair before a small fire, for ten minutes,
+and then, rising, crossed the room softly and switched out the light.
+There was a transom above the door, so that anybody in the passage
+outside could tell whether his light was on or off. Then he resumed his
+seat, spreading his veined hands to the fire, and listened.
+
+He waited another quarter of an hour before he heard a soft creak and
+the sound of breathing outside the door. Somebody was standing there
+listening. The old man kept his eyes fixed on the fire, but his senses
+were alive to every sound. Again he heard the creaking, this time
+louder. A jerry-built house in Maida Vale does not offer the best
+assistance to the furtive business in which Sophia Kensky was engaged.
+Another creak, this time farther away and repeated at intervals, told
+him that she was going down the stairs. He walked to the window and
+gently pulled up the blind, taking his station so that he could command
+a view of the narrow strip of garden. Presently his vigil was rewarded.
+He saw her dark figure walk along the flagged pavement, open the gate
+and disappear into the darkened street.
+
+Israel Kensky went back to his chair, stirred the fire and settled down
+to a long wait, his lined face grave and anxious.
+
+The woman had turned to the right and had walked swiftly to the end of
+the street. The name of that street, or its pronunciation, were beyond
+her. She neither spoke English, nor was she acquainted with the
+topography of the district in which she found herself. She slowed her
+pace as she reached the main road and a man came out of the shadows to
+meet her.
+
+"Is it you, little mother?" he asked in Russian.
+
+"Thank God you're here! Who is this?" asked Sophia breathlessly.
+
+"Boris Yakoff," said the other, "I have been waiting for an hour, and it
+is very cold."
+
+"I could not get away before," she said as she fell in beside him. "The
+old man was working with his foolery and it was impossible to get him to
+go to bed. Once or twice I yawned, but he took no notice."
+
+"Why has he come to London?" asked her companion. "It must be something
+important to bring him away from his money-bags."
+
+To this the woman made no reply. Presently she asked:
+
+"Do we walk? Is there no droski or little carriage?"
+
+"Have patience, have patience!" grinned the man good humouredly. "Here
+in London we do things in grand style. We have an auto-car for you. But
+it was not wise to bring it so close to your house, little mother. The
+old man----"
+
+"Oh, finish with the old man," she said impatiently; "do not forget that
+I am with him all the day."
+
+The antipathy between father and daughter was so well known that the man
+made no apology for discussing the relationship with that frankness
+which is characteristic of the Russian peasant. Nor did Sophia Kensky
+resent the questions of a stranger, nor hesitate to unburden herself of
+her grievances. The "auto-car" proved to be a very common-place
+taxi-cab, though a vehicle of some luxury to Yakoff.
+
+"They say he practises magic," said that garrulous man, as the taxi got
+on its way; "also that he bewitches you."
+
+"That is a lie," said the woman indifferently: "he frightens me
+sometimes, but that is because I have here"--she tapped her
+forehead--"a memory which is not a memory. I seem to remember something
+just at the end of a thread, and I reach for it, and lo! it is gone!"
+
+"That is magic," said Yakoff gravely. "Evidently he practises his spells
+upon you. Tell me, Sophia Kensky, is it true that you Jews use the blood
+of Christian children for your beastly ceremonies?"
+
+The woman laughed.
+
+"What sort of man are you that you believe such things?" she asked
+contemptuously. "I thought all the comrades in London were educated?"
+
+Yakoff made a little clicking noise with his mouth to betray his
+annoyance. And well he might resent this reflection upon his education,
+for he held a university degree and had translated six revolutionary
+Russian novels into English and French. This, he explained with some
+detail, and the girl listened with little interest. She was not
+surprised that an educated man should believe the fable of human
+sacrifices, which had gained a certain currency in Russia. Only it
+seemed to her just a little inexplicable.
+
+The cab turned out of the semi-obscurity of the side street into a
+brilliantly lighted thoroughfare and bowled down a broad and busy road.
+A drizzle of rain was falling and blurred the glass; but even had the
+windows been open, she could not have identified her whereabouts.
+
+"To what place are you taking me?" she asked. "Where is the meeting?"
+
+Yakoff lowered his voice to a husky whisper.
+
+"It is the café of the Silver Lion, in a place called Soho," he said.
+"Here we meet from day to day and dream of a free Russia. We also play
+bagatelle." He gave the English name for the latter. "It is a club and a
+restaurant. To-night it is necessary that you should be here, Sophia
+Kensky, because of the great happenings which must follow."
+
+She was silent for awhile, then she asked whether it was safe, and he
+laughed.
+
+"Safe!" he scoffed. "There are no secret police in London. This is a
+free country, where one may do as one wishes. No, no, Sophia Kensky, be
+not afraid."
+
+"I am not afraid," she answered, "but tell me, Yakoff, what is this
+great meeting about?"
+
+"You shall learn, you shall learn, little sister," said Yakoff
+importantly.
+
+He might have added that he also was to learn, for as yet he was in
+ignorance.
+
+They drove into a labyrinth of narrow streets and stopped suddenly
+before a doorway. There was no sign of a restaurant, and Yakoff
+explained, before he got out of the cab, that this was the back
+entrance to the Silver Lion, and that most of the brethren who used the
+club also used this back door.
+
+He dismissed the cab and pressed a bell in the lintel of the door.
+Presently it was opened and they passed in unchallenged. They were in a
+small hallway, lighted with a gas-jet. There was a stairway leading to
+the upper part of the premises, and a narrower stairway, also lighted by
+gas, at the foot leading to the cellar; and it was down the latter that
+Yakoff moved, followed by the girl.
+
+They were now in another passage, whitewashed and very orderly. A
+gas-jet lit this also, and at one end the girl saw a plain, wooden door.
+To this Yakoff advanced and knocked. A small wicket, set in the panel,
+was pushed aside, and after a brief scrutiny by the door's custodian, it
+was opened and the two entered without further parley.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+A GUN-MAN REFUSES WORK
+
+
+It was a big underground room, the sort of basement dining-room one
+finds in certain of the cafés in Soho, and its decorations and furniture
+were solid and comfortable. There were a dozen men in this
+innocent-looking saloon when the girl entered. They were standing about
+talking, or sitting at the tables playing games. The air was blue with
+tobacco smoke.
+
+Her arrival seemed to be the signal for the beginning of a conference.
+Four small tables were drawn from the sides and placed together, and in
+a few seconds she found herself one of a dozen that sat about the board.
+
+The man who seemed to take charge of the proceedings she did not know.
+He was a Russian--a big, clean-shaven man, quietly and even
+well-dressed. His hair was flaming red, his nose was crooked. It was
+this crooked nose which gave her a clue to his identity. She remembered
+in Kieff, where physical peculiarities could not pass unnoticed, some
+reference to "twist nose," and racked her brains in an effort to recall
+who that personage was. That he knew her he very quickly showed.
+
+"Sophia Kensky," he said, "we have sent for you to ask you why your
+father is in London."
+
+"If you know my father," she replied, "you know also that I, his
+daughter, do not share his secrets."
+
+The man at the head of the table nodded.
+
+"I know him," he said grimly, "also I know you, Sophia. I have seen you
+often at the meetings of our society in Kieff."
+
+Again she frowned, trying to recall his name and where she had seen him.
+It was not at any of the meetings of the secret society--of that she was
+sure. He seemed to read her thoughts, for he laughed--a deep, thunderous
+laugh which filled the underground room with sound.
+
+"It is strange that you do not know me," he said, "and yet I have seen
+you a hundred times, and you have seen me."
+
+A light dawned on her.
+
+"Boolba, the _buffet-schek_ of the Grand Duke!" she gasped.
+
+He nodded, absurdly pleased at the recognition.
+
+"I do not attend the meetings in Kieff, little sister, for reasons which
+you will understand. But here in London, where I have come in advance
+of Yaroslav, it is possible. Now, Sophia Kensky, you are a proved friend
+of our movement?"
+
+She nodded, since the statement was in the way of a question.
+
+"It is known to you, as to us, that your father, Israel Kensky, is a
+friend of the Grand Duchess."
+
+Boolba, the President, saw the sullen look on her face and drew his own
+conclusions, even before she explained her antipathy to the young girl
+who held that exalted position.
+
+"It is a mystery to me, Boolba," she said, "for what interest can this
+great lady have in an old Jew?"
+
+"The old Jew is rich," said Boolba significantly.
+
+"So also is Irene Yaroslav," said the girl. "It is not for money that
+she comes."
+
+"It is not for money," agreed the other, "it is for something else. When
+the Grand Duchess Irene was a child, she was in the streets of Kieff one
+day in charge of her nurse. It happened that some Caucasian soldiers
+stationed in the town started a pogrom against the Jews. The soldiers
+were very drunk; they were darting to and fro in the street on their
+little horses, and the nurse became frightened and left the child. Your
+father was in hiding, and the soldiers were searching for him; yet, when
+he saw the danger of the Grand Duchess, he ran from his hiding-place,
+snatched her up under the hoofs of the horses, and bore her away into
+his house."
+
+"I did not know this," said Sophia, listening open-mouthed. Her father
+had never spoken of the incident, and the curious affection which this
+high-born lady had for the old usurer of Kieff had ever been a source of
+wonder to her.
+
+"You know it now," said Boolba. "The Grand Duke has long since forgotten
+what he owes to Israel Kensky, but the Grand Duchess has not. Therefore,
+she comes to him with all her troubles--and that, Sophia Kensky, is why
+we have sent for you."
+
+There was a silence.
+
+"I see," she said at last, "you wish me to spy upon Israel Kensky and
+tell you all that happens."
+
+"I want to know all that passes between him and the Grand Duchess," said
+Boolba. "She comes to London to-morrow with her father, and it is
+certain she will seek out Israel Kensky. Every letter that passes
+between them must be opened."
+
+"But----" she began.
+
+"There is no 'but,'" roared Boolba. "Hear and obey; it is ordered!"
+
+He turned abruptly to the man on his left.
+
+"You understand, Yaroslav arrives in London to-morrow. It is desirable
+that he should not go away."
+
+"But, but, Excellency," stammered the man on his left, "here in London!"
+
+Boolba nodded.
+
+"But, Excellency," wailed the man, "in London we are safe; it is the one
+refuge to which our friends can come. If such a thing should happen,
+what would be our fate? We could not meet together. We should be hounded
+down by the police from morning until night; we should be deported--it
+would be the ruin of the great movement."
+
+"Nevertheless, it is an order," said Boolba doggedly; "this is a matter
+beyond the cause. It will gain us powerful protectors at the court, and
+I promise you that, though the commotion will be great, yet it will not
+last for very long, and you will be left undisturbed."
+
+"But----" began one of the audience, and Boolba silenced him with a
+gesture.
+
+"I promise that none of you shall come to harm, my little pigeons, and
+that you shall not be concerned in this matter."
+
+"But who will do it, Excellency?" asked another member.
+
+"That is too important to be decided without a meeting of all the
+brethren. For my part, I would not carry out such an order unless I
+received the instructions of our President."
+
+"I promise that none of you shall take a risk," sneered Boolba. "Now
+speak, Yakoff!"
+
+The man who had accompanied Sophia Kensky smiled importantly at the
+company, then turned to Sophia.
+
+"Must I say this before Sophia Kensky?" he asked.
+
+"Speak," said Boolba. "We are all brothers and sisters, and none will
+betray you."
+
+Yakoff cleared his throat.
+
+"When your Excellency wrote to me from Kieff, asking me to find a man, I
+was in despair," he began--an evidently rehearsed speech, "I tore my
+hair, I wept----"
+
+"Tell us what you have done," said the impatient Boolba. "For what does
+it matter, in the name of the saints and the holy martyrs" (everyone at
+the table, including Boolba, crossed himself) "whether your hair was
+torn or your head was hammered?"
+
+"It was a difficult task, Excellency," said Yakoff in a more subdued
+tone, "but Providence helped me. There is a good comrade of ours who is
+engaged in punishing the bourgeoisie by relieving them of their
+goods----"
+
+"A thief, yes," said Boolba.
+
+"Through him I learnt that a certain man had arrived in England and was
+in hiding. This man is a professional assassin."
+
+They looked at him incredulously, all except Boolba, who had heard the
+story before.
+
+"An assassin?" said one. "Of what nationality?"
+
+"American," said Yakoff, and there was a little titter of laughter.
+
+"It is true," interrupted Boolba. "This man, whom Yakoff has found, is
+what is known in New York as a gun-man. He belongs to a gang which was
+hunted down by the police, and our comrade escaped."
+
+"But an American!" persisted one of the unconvinced.
+
+"An American," said Yakoff. "This man is desired by the police on this
+side, and went in hiding with our other comrade, who recognized him."
+
+"A gun-man," said Boolba thoughtfully, and he used the English word with
+some awkwardness. "A gun-man. If he would only--is he here?" he
+demanded, looking up.
+
+Yakoff nodded.
+
+"Does he know----"
+
+"I have told him nothing, Excellency," said Yakoff, rising from the
+table with alacrity, "except to be here, near the entrance to the club,
+at this hour. Shall I bring him down?"
+
+Boolba nodded, and three minutes later, into this queer assembly,
+something of a fish out of water and wholly out of his element, strode
+Cherry Bim, that redoubtable man.
+
+He was a little, man, stoutly built and meanly dressed. He had a fat,
+good-humoured face and a slight moustache, and eyes that seemed laughing
+all the time.
+
+Despite the coldness of the night, he wore no waistcoat, and as a
+protest against the conventions he had dispensed with a collar. As he
+stood there, belted about his large waist, a billycock hat on the back
+of his head, he looked to be anything from a broken-down publican to an
+out-of-work plumber.
+
+He certainly did not bear the impress of gun-man.
+
+If he was out of his element, he was certainly not out of conceit with
+himself. He gave a cheery little nod to every face that was turned to
+him, and stood, his hands thrust through his belt, his legs wide apart,
+surveying the company with a benevolent smile.
+
+"Good evening, ladies and gents," he said. "Shake hands with Cherry Bim!
+Bim on my father's side and Cherry by christening--Cherry Bim, named
+after the angels." And he beamed again.
+
+This little speech, delivered in English, was unintelligible to the
+majority of those present, including Sophia Kensky, but Yakoff
+translated it. Solemnly he made a circuit of the company and as solemnly
+shook hands with every individual, and at last he came to Boolba; and
+only then did he hesitate for a second.
+
+Perhaps in that meeting there came to him some premonition of the
+future, some half-revealed, half-blurred picture of prophecy. Perhaps
+that picture was one of himself, lying in the darkness on the roof of
+the railway carriage, and an obscene Boolba standing erect in a
+motor-car on the darkened station, waving his rage, ere the three quick
+shots rang out.
+
+Cherry Bim confessed afterwards to a curious shivery sensation at his
+spine. The hesitation was only for a second, and then his hand gripped
+the big hand of the self-constituted chairman.
+
+"Now, gents and ladies," he said, with a comical little bow towards
+Sophia, "I understand you're all good sports here, and I'm telling you
+that I don't want to stay long. I'm down and out, and I'm free to
+confess it, and any of you ladies and gents who would like to grubstake
+a stranger in a foreign land, why, here's your chance. I'm open to take
+on any kind of job that doesn't bring me into conspicuous relationship
+with the bulls--bulls, ladies and gentlemen, being New York for
+policemen."
+
+Then Boolba spoke, and he spoke in English, slow but correct.
+
+"Comrade," he said, "do you hate tyrants?"
+
+"If he's a copper," replied Mr. Bim mistakenly. "Why, he's just as
+popular with me as a hollow tooth at an ice-cream party."
+
+"What does he say?" asked the bewildered Boolba, who could not follow
+the easy flow of Mr. Bim's conversation, and Yakoff translated to the
+best of his ability.
+
+And then Boolba, arresting the interruption of the American, explained.
+It was a long explanation. It dealt with tyranny and oppression and
+other blessed words dear to the heart of the revolutionary; it concerned
+millions of men and hundreds of millions of men and women in chains,
+under iron heels, and the like; and Mr. Bim grew more and more hazy, for
+he was not used to the parabole, the allegory, or the metaphor. But
+towards the end of his address, Boolba became more explicit, and, as his
+emotions were moved, his English a little more broken.
+
+Mr. Bim became grave, for there was no mistaking the task which had been
+set him.
+
+"Hold hard, mister," he said. "Let's get this thing right. There's a guy
+you want to croak. Do I get you right?"
+
+Again Mr. Yakoff translated the idioms, for Yakoff had not lived on the
+edge of New York's underworld without acquiring some knowledge of its
+language.
+
+Boolba nodded.
+
+"We desire him killed," he said. "He is a tyrant, an oppressor----"
+
+"Hold hard," said Bim. "I want to see this thing plain. You're going to
+croak this guy, and I'm the man to do it? Do I get you?"
+
+"That is what I desire," said Boolba, and Bim shook his head.
+
+"It can't be done," he said. "I'm over here for a quiet, peaceful life,
+and anyway, I've got nothing on this fellow. I'm not over here to get my
+picture in the papers. It's a new land to me--why, if you put me in
+Piccadilly Circus I shouldn't know which way to turn to get out of it!
+Anyway, that strong arm stuff is out so far as I'm concerned."
+
+"What does he say?" said Boolba again, and again Yakoff translated.
+
+"I thought you were what you call a gun-man," said Boolba with a curl of
+his lip. "I did not expect you to be frightened."
+
+"There's gun-men and gun-men," said Cherry Bim, unperturbed by the
+patent sarcasm. "And then there's me. I never drew a gun on a man in my
+life that didn't ask for it, or in the way of business. No, sirree. You
+can't hire Cherry Bim to do a low, vulgar murder."
+
+His tone was uncompromising and definite. Boolba realized that he could
+not pursue his argument with any profit to himself, and that if he were
+to bring this unwilling agent to his way of thinking a new line would
+have to be taken.
+
+"You will not be asked to take a risk for nothing," he said. "I am
+authorized to pay you twenty thousand roubles, that is, two thousand
+pounds in your money----"
+
+"Not mine," interrupted Bim. "It's ten thousand dollars you're trying to
+say. Well, even that doesn't tempt me. It's not my game, anyway," he
+said, pulling up a chair and sitting down in the most friendly manner.
+"And don't think you're being original when you offer me this
+commission. I've had it offered me before in New York City, and I've
+always turned it down, though I know my way to safety blindfolded.
+That's all there is to it, gentlemen--and ladies," he added.
+
+"So you refuse?" Neither Boolba's voice nor his manner was pleasant.
+
+"That's about the size of it," said Cherry Bim, rising. "I'm a grafter,
+I admit it. There ain't hardly anything I wouldn't do from smashing a
+bank downwards, to turn a dishonest penny. But, gents, I'm short of the
+necessary nerve, inclination, lack of morals, and general ungodliness,
+to take on murder in the first, second, or third degree."
+
+"You have courage, my friend," said Boolba significantly. "You do not
+suppose we should take you into our confidence and let you go away
+again so easily?"
+
+Mr. Bim's smile became broader.
+
+"Gents, I won't deceive you," he said. "I expected a rough house and
+prepared for it. Watch me!"
+
+He extended one of his hands in the manner of a conjurer and with the
+other pulled up the sleeve above the wrist. He turned the hands over,
+waggling the fingers as though he were giving a performance, and they
+watched him curiously.
+
+"There's nothing there, is there?" said Cherry Bim, beaming at the
+company, "and yet there is something there. Look!"
+
+No eyes were sharp enough to follow the quick movement of his hand. None
+saw it drop or rise again. There was a slur of movement, and then, in
+the hand which had been empty, was a long-barrelled Colt. Cherry Bim,
+taking no notice of the sensation he created, tossed the revolver to the
+ceiling and caught it again.
+
+"Now, gents, I don't know whether you're foolish or only just crazy. Get
+away from that door, Hector," he said to a long-haired man who stood
+with folded arms against the closed door. And "Hector," whose name was
+Nickolo Novoski Yasserdernski in real life, made haste to obey.
+
+"Wait a bit," said the careful gun-man. "That's a key in your waistcoat
+pocket, I guess." He thrust the barrel of his revolver against the
+other's side, and the long-haired man doubled up with a gasp. But Cherry
+Bim meant no mischief. The barrel of the gun clicked against the end of
+a key, and when Cherry Bim drew his revolver away the key was hanging to
+it!
+
+"Magnetic," the gun-man kindly explained; "it is a whim of mine."
+
+With no other words he passed through the door and slammed it behind
+him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE GRAND DUCHESS IRENE
+
+
+Israel Kensky was dozing before the fire when the sound of the creaking
+stair woke him. He walked softly to the door and listened, and presently
+he heard the steps of his daughter passing along the corridor. He opened
+the door suddenly and stepped out, and she jumped back with a little cry
+of alarm. There were moments when she was terribly afraid of her father,
+and such a moment came to her now.
+
+"Are you not asleep, Israel Kensky?" she faltered.
+
+"I could not sleep," replied the other, in so mild a tone that she took
+courage. "Come into my room. I wish to speak to you."
+
+He did not ask her where she had been, or to explain why, at three
+o'clock in the morning, she was dressed for the street, and she felt it
+necessary to offer some explanation.
+
+"You wonder why I am dressed?" she said.
+
+"I heard a great noise in the street, and went out to see----"
+
+"What does it matter?" said Israel Kensky. "Save your breath, little
+daughter. Why should you not walk in the street if you desire?"
+
+He switched on the light to augment the red glow which came from the
+fire.
+
+"Sit down, Sophia," he said, "I have been waiting for you. I heard you
+go out."
+
+She made no reply. There was fear in her eyes, and all the time she was
+conscious of many unpleasant interviews with her father--interviews
+which had taken place in Kieff and in other towns--the details of which
+she could never recall. And she was filled with a dread of some
+happening to which she could not give form or description. He saw her
+shifting in her chair and smiled slowly.
+
+"Get me the little box which is on my dressing-table, Sophia Kensky," he
+said.
+
+He was seated by the fire, his hands outstretched to the red coal. After
+a moment's hesitation she got up, went to the dressing-table, and
+brought back a small box. It was heavy and made of some metal over which
+a brilliant black enamel had been laid.
+
+"Open the box, Sophia Kensky," said the old man, not turning his head.
+
+She had a dim recollection that she had been asked to do this before,
+but again could not remember when or in what circumstances. She opened
+the lid and looked within. On a bed of black velvet was a tiny convex
+mirror, about the size of a sixpence. She looked at this, and was still
+looking at it when she walked slowly back to her chair and sat down. It
+had such a fascination, this little mirror, that she could not tear her
+eyes away.
+
+"Close your eyes," said Kensky in a monotonous voice, and she obeyed.
+"You cannot open them," said the old man, and she shook her head and
+repeated:
+
+"I cannot open them."
+
+"Now you shall tell me, Sophia Kensky, where you went this night."
+
+In halting tones she told him of her meeting with Yakoff, of their walk,
+of the cab, of the little door in the back street, and the stone stairs
+that led to the whitewashed passage; and then she gave, as near as she
+knew, a full account of all that had taken place. Only when she came to
+describe Bim and to tell of what he said, did she flounder. Bim had
+spoken in a foreign language, and the translation of Yakoff had conveyed
+very little to her. But in this part of the narrative the old man was
+less interested. Again and again he returned to Boolba and the plot.
+
+"What hand will kill the Grand Duke?" he asked, not once but many
+times, and invariably she answered:
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"On whose behalf does Boolba act?" asked the old man. "Think, Sophia
+Kensky! Who will give this foreigner twenty thousand roubles?"
+
+"I do not know," she answered again.
+
+Presently a note of distress was evident in her voice, and Israel Kensky
+rose up and took the box from her hand.
+
+"You will go to bed, Sophia Kensky," he said slowly and deliberately,
+"and to-morrow morning, when you wake, you shall not remember anything
+that happened after you came into this house to-night. You shall not
+remember that I spoke to you or that I asked you to look in the little
+box. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Israel Kensky," she replied slowly, and walked with weary feet
+from the room.
+
+Israel Kensky listened and heard her door click, then closed his own,
+and, sitting at a table, began to write quickly. He was still writing
+when the grey dawn showed in his windows at six o'clock. He blotted the
+last letter and addressed an envelope to "The Most Excellent and
+Illustrious Highness the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav" before, without
+troubling to undress, he sank down upon his bed into a sleep of
+exhaustion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Malcolm Hay had an appointment with Mr. Tremayne on the morning that saw
+Israel Kensky engaged in frantic letter-writing. It was about Kensky
+that Tremayne spoke.
+
+"He has arrived in London," he said, "and is staying in Colbury Terrace,
+Maida Vale. I think you had better see him, because, as I told you, he
+is a local big-wig and may be very useful to you. Our wells, as you
+know, are about thirty miles outside Kieff, which is the nearest big
+town, so you may be seeing him pretty often. Also, by the way, he is our
+agent. If you have any trouble with Government officials you must see
+Kensky, who can generally put things square."
+
+"I believe his daughter is with him," Mr. Tremayne went on, "but I know
+very little about her. Yet another neighbour of yours arrives by special
+train at midday."
+
+"Another neighbour of mine?" repeated Malcolm with a smile. "And who is
+that?"
+
+"The Grand Duke Yaroslav. I don't suppose you'll have very much to do
+with him, but he's the King Pippin in your part of the world."
+
+A clerk came in with a typewritten sheet covered with Russian
+characters.
+
+"Here's your letter of introduction to Kensky. He knows just as much
+English as you will want him to know."
+
+When Malcolm presented himself at the lodgings, it was to discover that
+the old Jew had gone out, and had left no message as to the time he
+would return. Since Malcolm was anxious to meet this important
+personage, he did not leave his letter, but went into the City to lunch
+with an old college chum. In the afternoon he decided to make his call,
+and only remembered, as he was walking up the Strand, that he had
+intended satisfying his curiosity as to that "other neighbour" of his,
+the Grand Duke Yaroslav.
+
+There was a little crowd about Charing Cross Station, though it was
+nearly two hours after midday when the Yaroslavs were due; and he was to
+discover, on inquiry of a policeman, that the cause of this public
+curiosity had been the arrival of two royal carriages.
+
+"Some Russian prince or other," said the obliging bobby. "The boat was
+late, and--here they come!"
+
+Malcolm was standing on the side-walk in the courtyard of Charing Cross
+Station when the two open landaus drove out through the archway. In the
+first was a man a little over middle age, wearing a Russian uniform; but
+Malcolm had no eyes for him--it was for the girl who sat by his side,
+erect, haughty, almost disdainful, with her splendid beauty, and
+apparently oblivious to all that was being said to her by the smiling
+young man who sat on the opposite seat.
+
+As the carriage came abreast and the postilions reined in their mounts
+before turning into the crowded Strand, the girl turned her head for a
+second and her eyes seemed to rest on Malcolm.
+
+Instinctively he lifted his hat from his head, but it was not the girl
+who returned his salutation, but the stiff figure of the elderly man at
+her side who raised his hand with an automatic gesture. Only for a
+second, and then she swept out of view, and Malcolm heaved a long, deep
+sigh.
+
+"Some dame!" said a voice at his side. "Well, I'm glad I saw him,
+anyway."
+
+Malcolm looked down at the speaker. He was a stout little man, who wore
+his hard felt hat at a rakish angle. The butt of a fat cigar was
+clenched between his teeth, and his genial eyes met Malcolm's with an
+inviting frankness which was irresistible.
+
+"That was his Grand Nibs, wasn't it?" asked the man, and Malcolm smiled.
+
+"That was the Grand Duke, I think," he said.
+
+"And who was the dame?"
+
+"The dame?"
+
+"I mean the lady, the young peacherino--gee! She was wonderful!"
+
+Malcolm shared his enthusiasm but was not prepared to express himself
+with such vigour.
+
+"That girl," said his companion, speaking with evident sincerity, "is
+wasted--what a face for a beauty chorus!"
+
+Malcolm laughed. He was not a very approachable man, but there was
+something about this stranger which broke down all barriers.
+
+"Well, I'm glad I've seen him," said Mr. Cherry Bim again emphatically.
+"I wonder what he's done."
+
+Malcolm turned to move off, and the little man followed his example.
+
+"What do you mean--what has he done?" asked the amused Malcolm.
+
+"Oh, nothing," said the other airily, "but I just wondered, that's all."
+
+"I'm glad I've seen them too," said Malcolm; "I nearly missed them. I
+was sitting so long over lunch----"
+
+"You're a lucky man," said Mr. Bim.
+
+"To have seen them?"
+
+"No, to have sat over lunch," said Cherry with an inward groan. "My! I'd
+like to see what a lunch looks like."
+
+Malcolm looked at the man with a new interest and a new sympathy.
+
+"Broke?" he asked, and the other grinned.
+
+"If I was only broke," he said, "there'd be no trouble. But what's the
+matter with me is that there ain't any pieces!"
+
+Cherry Bim noticed the hesitation in Malcolm's face and said:
+
+"I hope you're not worrying about hurting my feelings."
+
+"How?" said the startled Malcolm.
+
+"Why," drawled the other, "if it's among your mind that you'd like to
+slip me two dollars and you're afraid of me throwing it at you, why, you
+can get that out of your mind straightaway."
+
+Malcolm laughed and handed half a sovereign to the man.
+
+"Go and get something to eat," he said.
+
+"Hold hard," said the other as Malcolm was turning away. "What is your
+name?"
+
+"Does that matter?" asked the young man with amusement.
+
+"It matters a lot to me," said the other seriously. "I like to pay back
+anything I borrow."
+
+"Hay is my name--Malcolm Hay. It's no use giving you my address, because
+I shall be in Russia next week."
+
+"In Russia, eh? That's rum!" Cherry Bim scratched his unshaven chin.
+"I'm always meeting Russians."
+
+He looked at the young engineer thoughtfully, then, with a little jerk
+of his head and a "So long!" he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
+
+Malcolm looked at his watch. He would try Kensky again, he thought; but
+again his mission was fruitless. He might have given up his search for
+this will-o'-the-wisp but for the fact that his new employers seemed to
+attach considerable importance to his making acquaintance with this
+notability of Kieff. He could hardly be out after dinner--he would try
+again.
+
+He had dressed for the solitary meal, thinking that, if his quest again
+failed, he could spend the evening at a theatre. This time the elderly
+landlady of the house in which Mr. Kensky lodged informed him that her
+guest was at home; and a few moments later Malcolm was ushered into the
+presence of the old man.
+
+Israel Kensky eyed his visitor keenly, taking him in from his carefully
+tied dress-bow to the tips of his polished boots. It was an approving
+glance, for Kensky, though he lived in one of the backwaters of
+civilization; though his attitude to the privileged classes of the
+world--in which category he placed Malcolm, did that young man but know
+it--was deferential and even servile; had very definite views as to what
+was, and was not, appropriate in his superior's attire.
+
+He read through the letter which Malcolm had brought without a word,
+and then:
+
+"Pray sit down, Mr. Hay," he said in English. "I have been expecting
+you. I had a letter from Mr. Tremayne."
+
+Malcolm seated himself near the rough bench at which he cast curious
+eyes. The paraphernalia of Kensky's hobby still lay upon its surface.
+
+"You are wondering what an old Jew does to amuse himself, eh?" chuckled
+Kensky. "Do you think we in South Russia do nothing but make bombs? If I
+had not an aptitude for business," he said (he pronounced the word
+"pizziness," and it was one of the few mispronunciations he made), "I
+should have been a bookbinder."
+
+"It is beautiful work," said Malcolm, who knew something of the art.
+
+"It takes my mind from things," said Kensky, "and also it helps me--yes,
+it helps me very much."
+
+Malcolm did not ask him in what manner his craft might assist a
+millionaire merchant, for in those days he had not heard of the "Book of
+All-Power."
+
+The conversation which followed travelled through awkward stages and
+more awkward pauses. Kensky looked a dozen times at the clock, and on
+the second occasion Malcolm, feeling uncomfortable, rose to go, but was
+eagerly invited to seat himself again.
+
+"You are going to Russia?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is a strange country if you do not know it. And the Russians are
+strange people. And to Kieff also! That is most important."
+
+Malcolm did not inquire where the importance lay, and dismissed this as
+an oblique piece of politeness on the other's part.
+
+"I am afraid I am detaining you, Mr. Kensky. I merely came in to make
+your acquaintance and shake hands with you," he said, rising, after yet
+another anxious glance at the clock on the part of his host.
+
+"No, no, no," protested Kensky. "You must forgive me, Mr. Hay, if I seem
+to be dreaming and I do not entertain you. I am turning over in my mind
+so many possibilities, so many plans, and I think I have come to the
+right conclusion. You shall stay, and you shall know. I can rely upon
+your discretion, can I not?"
+
+"Certainly, but----"
+
+"I know I can!" said the old man, nodding "And you can help me. I am a
+stranger in London. Tell me, Mr. Hay, do you know the Café of the Silver
+Lion?"
+
+The other was staggered by the question.
+
+"No, I can't say that I do," he admitted. "I am a comparative stranger
+in London myself."
+
+"Ah, but you can find it. You know all the reference books, which are so
+much Greek to me; you could discover it by inquiring of the
+police--inquiries made very discreetly, you understand, Mr. Hay?"
+
+Malcolm wondered what he was driving at, but the old man changed the
+subject abruptly.
+
+"To-night you will see a lady here. She is coming to me. Again I ask for
+your discretion and your silence. Wait!"
+
+He shuffled to the window, pulled aside the blind and looked out.
+
+"She is here," he said in a whisper. "You will stand just there."
+
+He indicated a position which to Malcolm was ludicrously suggestive of
+his standing in a corner. Further explanations could neither be given
+nor asked for. The door opened suddenly and a girl came in, closing it
+behind her. She looked first at Kensky with a smile, and then at the
+stranger, and the smile faded from her lips. As for Malcolm, he was
+speechless. There was no doubt at all as to the identity. The straight
+nose, the glorious eyes, the full, parted lips.
+
+Kensky shuffled across to her, bent down and kissed her hand.
+
+"Highness," he said humbly, "this gentleman is a friend of mine. Trust
+old Israel Kensky, Highness!"
+
+"I trust you, Israel Kensky," she replied in Russian, and with the
+sweetest smile that Malcolm had ever seen in a woman.
+
+She bowed slightly to the young man, and for the rest of the interview
+her eyes and speech were for the Jew. He brought a chair forward for
+her, dusted it carefully, and she sat down by the table, leaning her
+chin on her palm, and looking at the old man.
+
+"I could not come before," she said. "It was so difficult to get away."
+
+"Your Highness received my letter?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"But Israel," her voice almost pleaded, "you do not believe that this
+thing would happen?"
+
+"Highness, all things are possible," said the old man. "Here in London
+the cellars and garrets teem with evil men."
+
+"But the police----" she began.
+
+"The police cannot shelter you, Highness, as they do in our Russia."
+
+"I must warn the Grand Duke," she said thoughtfully, "and"--she
+hesitated, and a shadow passed over her face--"and the Prince. Is it not
+him they hate?"
+
+Kensky shook his head.
+
+"Lady," he said humbly, "in my letter I told you there was something
+which could not be put on paper, and that I will tell you now. And if I
+speak of very high matters, your Highness must forgive an old man."
+
+She nodded, and again her laugh twinkled in her eyes.
+
+"Your father, the Grand Duke Yaroslav," he said, "has one child, who is
+your Highness."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"The heir to the Grand Dukedom is----" He stopped inquiringly.
+
+"The heir?" she said slowly. "Why, it is Prince Serganoff. He is with
+us."
+
+Malcolm remembered the olive-faced young man who had sat on the seat of
+the royal carriage facing the girl; and instinctively he knew that this
+was Prince Serganoff, though in what relationship he stood to the Grand
+Ducal pair he had no means of knowing.
+
+"The heir is Prince Serganoff," said the old man slowly, "and his
+Highness is an ambitious man. Many things can happen in our Russia,
+little lady. If the Grand Duke were killed----"
+
+"Impossible!" She sprang to her feet. "He would never dare! He would
+never dare!"
+
+Kensky spread out his expressive hands.
+
+"Who knows?" he said. "Men and women are the slaves of their ambition."
+
+She looked at him intently.
+
+"He would never dare," she said slowly. "No, no, I cannot believe that."
+
+The old man made no reply.
+
+"Where did you learn this, Israel Kensky?" she asked.
+
+"From a good source, Highness," he replied evasively, and she nodded.
+
+"I know you would not tell me this unless there were some foundation,"
+she said. "And your friend?" She looked inquiringly at the silent Hay.
+"Does he know?"
+
+Israel Kensky shook his head.
+
+"I would wish that the _gospodar_ knew as much as possible, because he
+will be in Kieff, and who knows what will happen in Kieff? Besides, he
+knows London."
+
+Malcolm did not attempt to deny the knowledge, partly because, in spite
+of his protest, he had a fairly useful working knowledge of the
+metropolis.
+
+"I shall ask the _gospodar_ to discover the meeting-place of the
+rabble."
+
+"Do you suggest," she demanded, "that Prince Serganoff is behind this
+conspiracy, that he is the person who inspired this idea of
+assassination?"
+
+Again the old man spread out his hands.
+
+"The world is a very wicked place," he said.
+
+"And the Prince has many enemies," she added with a bright smile. "You
+must know that, Israel Kensky. My cousin is Chief of the Political
+Police in St. Petersburg, and it is certain that people will speak
+against him."
+
+The old man was eyeing her thoughtfully.
+
+"Your Highness has much wisdom," he said, "and I remember, when you were
+a little girl, how you used to point out to me the bad men from the
+good. Tell me, lady, is Prince Serganoff a good man or a bad man? Is he
+capable or incapable of such a crime?"
+
+She did not answer. In truth she could not answer; for all that Kensky
+had said, she had thought. She rose to her feet.
+
+"I must go now, Israel Kensky," she said. "My car is waiting for me. I
+will write to you."
+
+She would have gone alone, but Malcolm Hay, with amazing courage,
+stepped forward.
+
+"If Your Imperial Highness will accept my escort to your car," he said
+humbly, "I shall be honoured."
+
+She looked at him in doubt.
+
+"I think I would rather go alone."
+
+"Let the young man go with you, Highness," said Kensky earnestly. "I
+shall feel safer in my mind."
+
+She nodded, and led the way down the stairs. They turned out of the
+garden into the street and did not speak a word. Presently the girl said
+in English:
+
+"You must think we Russian people are barbarians, Mr.----"
+
+"Hay," suggested Malcolm.
+
+"Mr. Hay. That is Scottish, isn't it? Tell me, do you think we are
+uncivilized?"
+
+"No, Your Highness," stammered Malcolm. "How can I think that?"
+
+They walked on until they came in sight of the tail lights of the car,
+and then she stopped.
+
+"You must not come any farther," she said. "You can stand here and watch
+me go. Do you know any more than Israel Kensky told?" she asked, a
+little anxiously.
+
+"Nothing," he replied in truth.
+
+She offered her hand, and he bent over it.
+
+"Good night, Mr. Hay. Do not forget, I must see you in Kieff."
+
+He watched the red lights of the car disappear and walked quickly back
+to old Kensky's rooms. Russia and his appointment had a new fascination.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE PRINCE WHO PLANNED
+
+
+Few people knew or know how powerful a man Prince Serganoff really was
+in these bad old days. He waved his hand and thousands of men and women
+disappeared. He beckoned and he had a thousand sycophantic suppliants.
+
+In the days before he became Chief of the Police to the entourage, he
+went upon a diplomatic mission to High Macedonia, the dark and sinister
+state. He was sent by none, but he had a reason, for Dimitrius, his
+sometime friend, had fled to the capital of the higher Balkan state and
+Serganoff went down without authority to terrify his sometime confidant
+into returning for trial. In High Macedonia the exquisite young man was
+led by sheer curiosity to make certain inquiries into the domestic
+administration of the country, and learnt things.
+
+He had hardly made himself master of these before he was sent for by the
+Foreign Minister.
+
+"Highness," said the suave man, stroking his long, brown beard, "how
+long have you been in the capital?"
+
+"Some four days, Excellency," said the Prince.
+
+"That is ninety-six hours too long," said the minister. "There is a
+train for the north in forty minutes. You will catch that, and God be
+with you!"
+
+Prince Serganoff did not argue but went out from the ornate office, and
+the Minister called a man who was waiting.
+
+"If his Highness does not leave by the four o'clock train, cut his
+throat and carry the body to one of the common houses of the
+town--preferably that of the man Domopolo, the Greek, who is a bad
+character, and well deserving of death."
+
+"Excellency," said the man gravely, and saluted his way out.
+
+They knew Serganoff in High Macedonia and were a little anxious. Had
+they known him better they would have feared him less. He did not leave
+by the four o'clock train, but by a special which was across the
+frontier by four. He sat in a cold sweat till the frontier post was
+past.
+
+This man was a mass of contradictions. He liked the good things of life.
+He bought his hosiery in Paris, his shoes in Vienna, his suits and
+cravats in New York; and it is said of him that he made a special
+pilgrimage to London--the Mecca of those who love good leather
+work--for the characteristic attaché cases which were so indispensable
+to the Chief of Gendarmerie of the Marsh Town.
+
+He carried with him the irrepressible trimness and buoyancy of youth,
+with his smooth, sallow face, his neat black moustache and his
+shapeliness of outline. An exquisite of exquisites, he had never felt
+the draughts of life or experienced its rude buffetings.
+
+His perfectly-appointed flat in the Morskaya had been modelled to his
+taste and fancy. It was a suite wherein you pressed buttons and
+comfortable things happened. You opened windows and boiled water, or
+summoned a valet to your bedside by the gentle pressure you applied to a
+mother-of-pearl stud set in silver plate which, by some miracle, was
+always within reach.
+
+He had an entire suite converted to bath-rooms, where his masseur, his
+manicurist and his barber attended him daily. He had conscripted modern
+science to his service, he had so cunningly disguised its application,
+that you might never guess the motive power of the old English clock
+which ticked in the spacious hall, or realize that the soft light which
+came from the many branched candelabra which hung from the centre of his
+drawing-room was due to anything more up to date than the hundred most
+life-like candles which filled the sockets.
+
+Yet this suave gentleman with his elegant manners and his pretty taste
+in old china, this genius who was the finest judge in the capital of
+Pekinese dogs, and had been known to give a thousand-rouble fee to the
+veterinary surgeon who performed a minor operation on his favourite
+Borzoi, had another aspect. He who shivered at the first chill winds of
+winter and wrapped himself in sables whenever he drove abroad after the
+last days of September, and had sent men and women to the bleakness of
+Alexandrowski without a qualm; he who had to fortify himself to face an
+American dentist (his fees for missed appointments would have kept the
+average middle-class family in comfort for a year), was ruthless in his
+dealings with the half-crazed men and women who strayed across the
+frontier which divided conviction from propaganda.
+
+Physical human suffering left him unmoved--he hanged the murderer
+Palatoff with his own hands. Yet in that operation someone saw him turn
+very pale and shrink back from his victim. Afterwards the reason was
+discovered. The condemned man had had the front of his rough shirt
+fastened with a safety-pin which had worked loose. The point had ripped
+a little gash in the inexperienced finger of the amateur hangman.
+
+He brought Dr. Von Krauss from Berlin, because von Krauss was an
+authority upon blood infection and spent a week of intense mental agony
+until he was pronounced out of danger.
+
+He sat before a long mirror in his bedroom, that gave on Horridge's
+Hotel, and surveyed himself thoughtfully. He was looking at the only man
+he trusted, for it was not vanity, but a love of agreeable company that
+explained the passion for mirrors which was the jest of St. Petersburg.
+
+It was his fourth day in London and a little table near the window was
+covered with patterns of cloth; he had spent an exciting afternoon with
+the representative of his tailor. But it was not of sartorial
+magnificence that he was thinking.
+
+He stretched out his legs comfortably towards his reflection, and
+smiled.
+
+"Yes," he said, as though answering some secret thought, and he and the
+reflection nodded to one another as though they had reached a complete
+understanding.
+
+Presently he pushed the bell and his valet appeared.
+
+"Has the Grand Duke gone?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, Excellency," replied the man.
+
+"And the Grand Duchess?"
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+"Good!" Serganoff nodded.
+
+"Is your Excellency's headache better?" asked the man.
+
+"Much better," replied the Chief of Police. "Go to their Highness's
+suite, and tell their servant--what is the man's name?"
+
+"Boolba, Excellency," said the valet.
+
+"Yes, that is the fellow. Ask him to come to me. The Grand Duke
+mentioned a matter which I forgot to tell Boolba."
+
+Boolba made his appearance, a suave domestic, wearing the inconspicuous
+livery of an English butler rather than the ornate uniform which
+accompanied his office in Kieff.
+
+"That will do." Serganoff dismissed his valet. "Boolba, come here."
+
+The man approached him and Serganoff lowered his voice.
+
+"You have made a fool of me again, Boolba."
+
+"Excellency," pleaded the man urgently, "I have done all that was
+possible."
+
+"You have placed my fortune and my life in the hands of an American
+criminal. If that is your idea of doing all that is possible, I agree
+with you," said Serganoff. "Be careful, Boolba! The arm of the Bureau is
+a very long one, and greater men than you have disappeared from their
+homes."
+
+"Illustrious Excellency," said the agitated man, "I swear to you I did
+all that you requested. There were many reasons why I should not entrust
+this matter to the men of the secret society."
+
+"I should like to hear a few," said Serganoff, cleaning his nails
+delicately.
+
+"Excellency, the Grand Duke stands well with the society. He had never
+oppressed them, and he is the only popular member of the Imperial House
+with our--their society."
+
+"Our society, eh?" said Serganoff, noticing the slip. "Go on."
+
+"Besides, Excellency," said Boolba, "it was necessary not only to kill
+the Grand Duke, but to shoot down his assassin. Our plan was to get this
+American to shoot him in the park, where he walks in the morning, and
+then for one of the society to shoot the American. That was a good plan,
+because it meant that the man who could talk would talk no more, and
+that the comrade who shot down the murderer would stand well with the
+Government."
+
+Serganoff nodded.
+
+"And your plan has failed," he said, "failed miserably at the outset.
+You dog!"
+
+He leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing, and Boolba stepped back.
+
+"Highness, wait, wait!" he cried. "I have something else in my mind! I
+could have helped Highness better if I had known more. But I could only
+guess. I had to grope in the dark all the time."
+
+"Do you imagine I am going to take you into my confidence?" asked
+Serganoff. "What manner of fool am I? Tell me what you have guessed. You
+may sit down; nobody will come in, and if they do you can be buttoning
+my boots."
+
+Boolba wiped his damp face with a handkerchief and leaned nearer to the
+man.
+
+"If the Grand Duke dies, a certain illustrious person succeeds to his
+estates," he said, "but not to his title."
+
+Serganoff looked at him sharply. The man had put into words the one
+difficulty which had occupied the mind of the Chief of Police for
+months.
+
+"Well?" he said.
+
+"The title is in the gift of the Czar," said Boolba. "He alone can
+create a Grand Duke who succeeds but is not in the direct line.
+Therefore, the killing of Yaroslav would bring little but the property
+to the illustrious person. Only if His Imperial Majesty decided upon a
+worthier holder, or if the Grand Duke fell under a cloud at Court, could
+it pass to the illustrious person."
+
+"That I know," said Serganoff. "Well?"
+
+"Well, Highness, would it not be better if the Grand Duke were
+disgraced, if he were brought to St. Petersburg to answer certain
+charges which the illustrious person formulated? After, the Grand Duke
+might die--that is a simple matter. Russia would think that he had been
+put to death by the Court party as a matter of policy. Yaroslav is not
+in favour at the Court," he added significantly; but Serganoff shook his
+head.
+
+"He is not sufficiently out of favour yet," he said. "Go on, man, you
+have something in your mind."
+
+Boolba edged closer.
+
+"Suppose the Grand Duke or the Grand Duchess were involved in some
+conspiracy against the Imperial House?" he said, speaking rapidly.
+"Suppose, on evidence which could not be disputed, such as the evidence
+of the London police, it was proved that either the Grand Duke or his
+daughter was in league with an anarchist society, or was attending their
+meetings--does your Excellency see?"
+
+"I see," said Serganoff, "but they do not attend meetings."
+
+Boolba hesitated.
+
+"Yet," he said, speaking slowly, "I would guarantee that I could bring
+the Grand Duchess Irene to such a meeting, and that I could arrange for
+the place to be raided whilst she was there."
+
+Serganoff put down his orange stick and eyed the other keenly.
+
+"You have brains, Boolba," he said. "Some day I shall bring you to St.
+Petersburg and place you on my staff--if you do not know too much."
+
+He paced the apartment, his hands clasped behind his back.
+
+"Suppose you get in touch with this American again, bring him to the
+meeting, unless he's afraid to come, and then boldly suggest to him that
+he goes to St. Petersburg to make an attempt upon the life of the Czar
+himself."
+
+"He would reject it," said Boolba, shaking his head.
+
+"What if he did--that doesn't matter," said Serganoff impatiently. "It
+is sufficient that the suggestion is made. Suppose this man is amongst
+these infamous fellows when the London police raid and arrest them, and
+he makes a statement that he was approached to destroy the Imperial
+life, and the Grand Duchess Irene is arrested at the same time?"
+
+Boolba's eyes brightened.
+
+"That is a wonderful idea, Highness," he said admiringly.
+
+Serganoff continued his pacing, and presently stopped.
+
+"I will arrange the police raid," he said. "I am in communication with
+Scotland Yard, and it will be better if I am present when the raid is
+conducted. It is necessary that I should identify myself with this
+chapter," he said, "but how will you induce the Grand Duchess to come?"
+
+"Leave that to me, Highness," replied the man, and gave some details of
+his scheme.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE RAID ON THE SILVER LION
+
+
+Sophia Kensky was a loyal and faithful adherent to the cause she had
+espoused, and her report, written in the weird caligraphy of Russia,
+greatly interested the butler of the Grand Duke Yaroslav. From that
+report he learned of the visit which the Grand Duchess Irene had paid;
+learned, too, that she had been escorted to her car by an Englishman,
+whose name the woman did not know; and was to discover later that the
+said "Englishman" had been sent out by Israel Kensky on a special
+mission. That mission was to discover the Silver Lion, a no very
+difficult task. In point of fact, it was discoverable in a London
+telephone directory, because the upper part of the premises were used
+legitimately enough in the proprietor's business as restaurateur.
+
+Malcolm Hay had lunch at the place and saw nothing suspicious in its
+character. Most of the clientèle were obviously foreign, and not a few
+were Russian. Pretending to lose his way, he wandered through the
+service door, and there made the important discovery that the kitchen
+was on the top floor, and also that meals were being served somewhere in
+the basement. This he saw during the few minutes he was allowed to make
+observations, because there was a service lift which was sent down to
+the unseen clients below.
+
+He apologized for his intrusion and went out. Officially there was no
+basement-room, nor, from the restaurant itself, any sign of stairs which
+led down to an underground chamber. He made a further reconnaissance,
+and found the back door which Sophia Kensky had described in her
+hypnotic sleep, and the location of which the old man had endeavoured to
+convey to his agent.
+
+Malcolm Hay was gifted with many of the qualities which make up the
+equipment of a good detective. In addition, he had the education and
+training of an engineer. That the underground room existed, he knew by
+certain structural evidence, and waited about in the street until he saw
+three men come out and the door close behind them. After awhile, another
+two emerged. There was nothing sinister or romantic about the existence
+of a basement dining-room, or even of a basement club-room.
+
+The character of this club was probably well known to the police, he
+thought, and pursued his inquiries to Marlborough Street police station.
+There he found, as he had expected, that the club was registered and
+known as "The Foreign Friends of Freedom Club." The officer who supplied
+him with the information told him that the premises were visited at
+frequent intervals by a representative of the police, and that nothing
+of an irregular character had been reported.
+
+"Have you any complaints to make?" asked the official.
+
+"None whatever," smiled Hay. "Only I am writing an article on the
+foreign clubs of London, and I want to be sure of my facts."
+
+It was the first and most plausible lie that occurred to him, and it
+answered his purpose. He returned to Kensky with his information, and
+the old man producing a map of London, he marked the spot with a red
+cross. All this time Malcolm Hay was busy making preparations for
+departure. He would have been glad to stay on, so that his leaving
+London would coincide with the departure of the Grand Duchess, but his
+sleeper had already been booked, and he had to make a call _en route_ at
+Vienna.
+
+It was on the occasion of this visit with details of the location and
+character of the club, that he first saw Sophia Kensky. He thought her
+pretty in a bold, heavy way, and she regarded him with insolent
+indifference. It was one of the few occasions in his life that he spoke
+with her.
+
+"The _gospodar_ is going to Kieff, Sophia Kensky," introduced the old
+man.
+
+"What will you do in Kieff, Excellency?" asked the woman indolently.
+
+"I shall not be in Kieff," smiled Hay, "except on rare occasions. I am
+taking charge of some oil-wells about twenty versts outside of the
+town."
+
+"It is a terrible life, living in the country," she said, and he was
+inclined to agree.
+
+This and a few trite sentiments about Russian weather and Russian
+seasons were the only words he ever exchanged with her in his life.
+Years later, when he stood, hardly daring to breathe, in the cupboard of
+a commissary's office, and heard her wild denunciation of the man who
+had sent her to death, he was to recall this first and only meeting.
+
+Israel Kensky dismissed his daughter without ceremony, and it was then
+that Malcolm Hay told him the result of his investigations. The old man
+sat for a long time stroking his beard.
+
+"Two more days they stay in this town," he said, half to himself, "and
+that is the dangerous time."
+
+He looked up sharply at Hay.
+
+"You are clever, and you are English," he said. "Would you not help an
+old man to save this young life from misery and sorrow?"
+
+Malcolm Hay looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"To save whom?" he asked.
+
+"The Grand Duchess," replied Kensky moodily. "It is for her I fear, more
+than for her father."
+
+Malcolm Hay was on the point of blurting out the very vital truth that
+there was nothing in the wide world he would not do to save that
+wonderful being from the slightest ache or pain, but thought it best to
+dissemble the craziest of infatuations that ever a penniless and obscure
+engineer felt for a daughter of the Imperial House of Russia. Instead he
+murmured some conventional expression of his willingness.
+
+"It is in this club that the danger lies," said Kensky. "I know these
+societies, Mr. Hay, and I fear them most when they look most innocent."
+
+"Could you not get the police to watch?" asked Malcolm.
+
+Had he lived in Russia, or had he had the experience which was his in
+the following twelve months, he would not have asked so absurd a
+question.
+
+"No, no," said Kensky, "this is not a matter for the police. It is a
+matter for those who love her."
+
+"What can I do?" asked Malcolm hastily.
+
+He had a horrible feeling that his secret had been surprised, for he was
+of the age when love is fearless of everything except ridicule.
+
+"You could watch the club," said Kensky. "I myself would go, but I am
+too old, and this English weather makes me sick."
+
+"You mean actually watch it?" said Malcolm in surprise. "Why, I'll do
+that like a shot!"
+
+"Note who goes in and who come out," said Kensky. "Be on hand at all
+times, in case you are called upon for help. You will see my daughter
+there," he said, after a pause, and a faint smile curved his pale lips.
+"Yes, Sophia Kensky is a great conspirator!"
+
+"Whom do you expect me to see?" asked the other bluntly.
+
+Kensky got up from his chair and went to a leather bag which stood on
+the sideboard. This he unlocked, and from a mass of papers took a
+photograph. He brought it back to the young man.
+
+"Why," said Malcolm in surprise, "that is the man Serganoff, the Prince
+fellow!"
+
+Kensky nodded slowly.
+
+"That is Serganoff," he said. "Here is another picture of him, but not
+of his face."
+
+It was, in fact, a snapshot photograph showing the back of the Police
+Chief; and it might have been, thought Malcolm, of a tailor's dummy,
+with its wasp waist and its perfectly creased trousers.
+
+"Particularly I wish to know whether he will visit the club in the next
+two days," said the old man. "It is important that you should look for
+him."
+
+"Anybody else?"
+
+Kensky hesitated.
+
+"I hope not," he said. "I hope not!"
+
+Malcolm Hay went back to his hotel, feeling a new zest in life. His
+experience of the past few days had been incredible. He, an unknown
+student, had found himself suddenly plunged into the heart of an
+anarchist plot, and on nodding terms with royal highnesses! He laughed
+softly as he sat on the edge of his bed and reviewed all the
+circumstances, but did not laugh when the thought occurred to him that
+the danger which might be threatening this girl was very real.
+
+That side of the adventure sobered him. He had sense enough to see that
+it was the unalienable right of youth to believe in fairies and to love
+beautiful princesses, and that such passions were entitled to disturb
+the rest and obscure the judgment of their victims for days and even for
+weeks. But he had an unpleasant conviction that he was looking at the
+Grand Duchess from an angle which was outside his experience of fairy
+stories.
+
+That night when he went on his way to take up his "police duty" in the
+little street behind the Silver Lion, he saw two mounted policemen
+trotting briskly down the Strand followed by a closed carriage, and in
+the light of the electric standard he caught a glimpse of a face which
+set his heart beating faster. He cursed himself for his folly, swore so
+vigorously and so violently at his own stupidity, that he did not
+realize he was talking aloud, until the open-mouthed indignation of an
+elderly lady brought him to a sense of decorum.
+
+She was going to the theatre, of course, he thought, and wondered what
+theatre would be graced by her presence. He half regretted his promise
+to Israel Kensky, which prevented him discovering the house of
+entertainment and securing a box or a stall from whence he could feast
+his eyes upon her face.
+
+His vigil was painfully monotonous. It was the most uninteresting job he
+had ever undertaken. Most of the habitués of the club had evidently come
+at an early hour, for he saw nobody come in and nobody go out until
+nearly eleven o'clock. It began to rain a fine, thin drizzle, which
+penetrated every crevice, which insinuated itself down his neck, though
+his collar was upturned; and then, on top of this, came a gusty easterly
+wind, which chilled him to the marrow. Keeping in the shadow of the
+houses opposite, he maintained, however, a careful scrutiny, thereby
+earning the suspicion of a policeman, who passed him twice on his beat
+before he stopped to ask if he were looking for somebody.
+
+As midnight chimed from a neighbouring church the door of the club
+opened and its members came out. Malcolm crossed the road and walked
+down to meet them, since they all seemed to be coming in the same
+direction.
+
+There were about twenty men, and they were speaking in Russian or
+Yiddish, but the subjects of their discourse were of the most innocent
+character. He saw nobody he knew, or had ever seen before. Israel Kensky
+had expected that the St. Petersburg Chief of Police would be present;
+that expectation was not realized. Then he heard the door bolted and
+chained, and went home, after the most unprofitable evening he had ever
+spent.
+
+How much better it would have been to sit in the warm theatre, with,
+perhaps, a clear view of the girl, watching her every movement, seeing
+her smile, noting her little tricks of manner or gesture.
+
+In the end he laughed himself into a sane condition of mind, ate a
+hearty supper, and went to bed to dream that Serganoff was pursuing him
+with a hammer in his hand, and that the Grand Duchess was sitting in a
+box wildly applauding the efforts of her homicidal relative.
+
+The next afternoon Malcolm Hay was packing, with the remainder of his
+belongings, a few articles he had purchased in London. Amongst these was
+a small and serviceable Colt revolver, and he stood balancing this in
+the palm of his hand, uncertain as to whether it would not be better to
+retain his weapon until after his present adventure. Twice he put it
+into his portmanteau and twice took it out again, and finally, blushing
+at the act, he slipped the weapon into his hip-pocket.
+
+He felt theatrical and cheap in doing so. He told himself that he was
+investing a very common-place measure of precaution taken by old Israel
+Kensky, who was probably in the secret police, to protect his protégée,
+with an importance and a romance which it did not deserve. He went down
+to his post that night, feeling horribly self-conscious. This time he
+kept on the same side of the street as that on which the club was
+situated.
+
+His watch was rewarded by events of greater interest than had occurred
+on the previous night. He had not been on duty half an hour before two
+men walked rapidly from the end of the street and passed him so closely
+that he could not make any mistake as to the identity of one. Had he not
+been able to recognize him, his voice would have instantly betrayed his
+identity, for, as they passed, the shorter of the two was talking.
+
+"I'm one of those guys who don't believe in starving to death in a
+delicatessen store----"
+
+Malcolm looked after the pair in amazement. It was the little man whom
+he had befriended in the courtyard at Charing Cross station. Other
+people drifted through the door in ones and twos, and then a man came
+walking smartly across the street, betraying the soldier at every
+stride. Malcolm turned and strolled in his direction.
+
+There was no mistaking him either, though he was muffled up to the chin.
+With his tight-waisted greatcoat, a glimpse of an olive face with two
+piercing dark eyes, which flashed an inquiring glance as they
+passed--there was no excuse for error. It was Colonel Prince Serganoff
+beyond a doubt.
+
+A quarter of an hour later came the real shock of the evening. A girl
+was almost on top of him before he saw her, for she was wearing shoes
+which made no sound. He had only time to turn so that she did not see
+his face, before she too entered the door and passed in. The Grand
+Duchess! And Serganoff! And the American adventurer!
+
+What had these three in common, he wondered. And now he recalled the
+warning of the old man. Perhaps the girl was in danger--the thought
+brought him to the door, with his hand raised and touching the bell-push
+before he realized his folly. There was nothing to do but wait.
+
+Five minutes passed and ten minutes, and then Malcolm Hay became
+conscious of the fact that something unusual was happening in the
+street. It was more thickly populated. Half a dozen men had appeared at
+either end of the street and were moving slowly towards him, as
+though----
+
+And then in a flash he realized just what was happening. It was a police
+raid. In his student days he had seen such a raid upon a gambling house,
+and he recognized all the signs. He first thought of the girl--she must
+not be involved in this. He raced toward the door, but somebody had ran
+quicker, and his hand was on the bell-push when he was swung violently
+backwards, and an authoritative voice said:
+
+"Take that man, sergeant."
+
+A hand gripped his shoulder and somebody peered in his face.
+
+"Why, he's English," he said in surprise.
+
+"Yes, yes," gasped Malcolm. "I'm sorry to interfere, but there is a lady
+in there, in whom I'm rather interested--you're raiding this club,
+aren't you?"
+
+"That's about the size of it," said a man in civilian clothes; and then,
+suspiciously, "Who are you?"
+
+Malcolm explained his status and calling.
+
+"Take my advice and get away. Don't be mixed up in this business," said
+the officer. "You can release him, sergeant. What's the time?"
+
+A clock struck at that moment, and the officer in charge of the raid
+pressed the bell.
+
+"If you've a lady friend involved in this, perhaps you'd like to stand
+by," he said. "She may want you to bail her out," he added
+good-humouredly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+PRINCE SERGANOFF PAYS THE PRICE
+
+
+Mr. Cherry Bim, a citizen of the world, and an adventurer at large, was
+an optimist to his finger-tips. He also held certain races in profound
+contempt, not because he knew the countries, but because he had met
+representatives of those nations in America, and judged by their
+characteristics.
+
+So that the man called Yakoff, whose task it was to inveigle Mr. Bim
+again to the premises of the Friends of Freedom Club, found to his
+astonishment that Mr. Bim required very little inveigling. The truth
+was, of course, that the gun-man had a supreme contempt for all
+Russians, whom he had classified mistakenly as "Lithanians" and
+"Pollaks." To the fervent promise made by Mr. Yakoff that no harm would
+come to him, Cherry Bim had replied briefly but unprintably.
+
+"Of course, there'll be no harm come to me," he said scornfully. "You
+don't think I worry about what that bunch will do? No, sir! But I'm
+powerfully disinclined to associate myself with people out of my class.
+It doesn't do a man any good to be seen round with Pollaks and Letts."
+
+Yakoff earnestly implored him to come and give the benefit of his
+experience to the assembly, and had promised him substantial payment.
+This latter argument was one which Cherry Bim could understand and
+appreciate. He accepted on the spot, and came down to the stuffy little
+underground room, expecting no more than to be asked to deliver a
+lecture on the gentle art of assassination. Not that he knew very much
+about it, because Cherry, with three or four men to his credit, had shot
+them in fair fight; but a hundred pounds was a lot of money, and he
+badly needed just enough to shake the mud of England from his shoes and
+seek a land more prolific in possibilities.
+
+The first thing he noticed on arrival was that Boolba, the man who had
+interrogated him before, was not present. In his place sat a smaller
+man, with a straggly black beard and a white face, who was addressed as
+"Nicholas."
+
+The second curious circumstance which struck him was that he was
+received also in an ominous silence.
+
+The black-bearded man, who spoke in perfect English, indicated a chair
+to the left of him.
+
+"Sit down, comrade," he said. "We have asked you to come because we
+have another proposition to make to you."
+
+"If it's a croaking proposition, you needn't go any farther," said
+Cherry, "and I won't trouble you with my presence, gents, and----" he
+looked in vain for the woman he had seen before, and added, that he
+might round off his sentence gracefully--"fellow murderers."
+
+"Mr. Bim," said Nicholas in his curious singsong tone, "does it not make
+your blood boil to see tyranny in high places----"
+
+"Now, can that stuff!" said Cherry Bim. "Nothing makes my blood boil, or
+would make my blood boil, except sitting on a stove, I guess. Tyranny
+don't mean any more in my young life than Hennessy, and tyrants more
+than hydrants. I guess I was brought up in a land of freedom and glory,
+where the only tyrant you ever meet is a traffic cop. If this is another
+croaking job, why, gents, I won't trouble you any longer."
+
+He half-rose, but Nicholas pushed him down.
+
+"Not even if it was the Czar?" he said calmly.
+
+Cherry Bim gaped at him.
+
+"The Czar?" he said, with a queer little grimace to emphasize his
+disbelief in the evidence of his hearing. "What are you getting at?"
+
+"Would you shoot the Czar for two thousand pounds?" asked Nicholas.
+
+Cherry Bim pushed his hat to the back of his head and got up, shaking
+off the protesting arm.
+
+"I'm through," he said, "and that's all there is to it."
+
+It was at that moment that Serganoff came through the door and Cherry
+Bim remained where he stood, surprised to silence, for the face of the
+newcomer was covered from chin to forehead by a black silk mask.
+
+The door was shut behind him; he walked slowly to the table and dropped
+into a broken chair, Cherry's eyes never leaving his face.
+
+"For fifteen years," said the gun-man, speaking slowly, "I've been a
+crook, but never once have I seen a guy got up like that villain in a
+movie picture. Say, mister, let's have a look at your face."
+
+Cherry Bim was not the only person perturbed by the arrival of a masked
+stranger. Only three men in the room were in the secret of the
+newcomer's identity, and suspicious and scowling faces were turned upon
+him.
+
+"You will excuse me," said the mask, "but there are many reasons why you
+should not see me or know me again."
+
+"And there's a mighty lot of reasons why you shouldn't know me again,"
+said Cherry, "yet I've obliged you with a close-up of my distinguished
+features."
+
+"You have heard the proposition," said the man. "What do you think of
+it?"
+
+"I think it's a fool proposition," replied Cherry contemptuously. "I've
+told these lads before that I am not falling for the Lucretia Borgia
+stuff, and I'm telling you the same."
+
+The masked man chuckled.
+
+"Well, don't let us quarrel," he said. "Nicholas, give him the money we
+promised."
+
+Nicholas put his hand in his pocket and brought out a roll of notes,
+which he tossed to the man on his left, and Cherry Bim, to whom tainted
+money was as acceptable as tainted pheasant to the epicure, pocketed it
+with a smack of his lips.
+
+"Now, if there's anything I can do for you boys," he said, "here's your
+chance to make use of me. Though I say it myself, there ain't a man in
+New York with my experience, tact and finesse. Show me a job that can be
+done single-handed, with a dividend at the end of it, and I'll show you
+a man who can take it on. In the meantime," said he affably, "the drinks
+are on me. Call the waiter, and order the best in the house."
+
+Serganoff held up his hand.
+
+"Wait," he said; "was that the door?"
+
+Nicholas nodded, and the whole room stood in silence and watched the
+door slowly open. There was a gasp of astonishment, of genuine
+surprise, for Irene Yaroslav was well known to them, and it was Irene
+Yaroslav who stood with her back to the door. She wore a long black
+cloak of sable and by her coiffure it was evident that she was wearing
+an evening toilette beneath the cloak.
+
+"Where is Israel Kensky?" she asked.
+
+She did not immediately see the man in the masked face, for he sat under
+a light and his broad-brimmed hat threw his face into shadow.
+
+Nobody answered her, and she asked again:
+
+"Where is Israel Kensky?"
+
+"He is not here," said Serganoff coolly, as she took two paces and
+stopped dead, clasping her hands before her.
+
+"What does this mean?" she asked. "What are you doing here, Ser----"
+
+"Stop!" His voice was almost a shout, and yet there was a shake in it.
+
+Serganoff realized the danger of his own position, if amongst these men
+were some who had cause to hate him.
+
+"Do not mention my name, Irene."
+
+"What are you doing here?" she asked. "And where is Israel Kensky?"
+
+"He has not come," Serganoff's voice was uneven and his hands shook.
+
+She turned to go, but he was before her and stood with his back to the
+entrance.
+
+"You will wait," he said.
+
+"What insolence is this?" she demanded haughtily. "I had a letter from
+Israel Kensky telling me to come here under his protection and I should
+learn the truth of the plot against my father."
+
+Serganoff had recovered something of his self-possession and laughed
+softly.
+
+"It was I who sent you that letter, Irene. I sent it because I
+particularly desired you here at this moment."
+
+"You shall pay for this," she said, and tried to force her way past him,
+but his strong hands gripped her and pushed her back.
+
+She turned with a flaming face upon the men.
+
+"Are you men," she asked, "that you allow this villain, who betrayed my
+father and will betray you, to treat a woman so."
+
+She spoke in Russian, and nobody moved. Then a voice said:
+
+"Speak English, miss."
+
+She turned and glanced gratefully at the stout little man with his
+grotesque Derby hat and his good-humoured smile.
+
+"I have been brought here by a trick," she said breathlessly, "by this
+man"--she pointed to Serganoff. "Will you help me leave? You're English,
+aren't you?"
+
+"American, miss," said Cherry Bim. "And as for helping you, why, bless
+you, you can class me as your own little bodyguard."
+
+"Stop!" cried Serganoff hoarsely, and instinctively, at the sight of the
+levelled revolver. Cherry's hands went up. "You'll keep out of this and
+do not interfere," said Serganoff. "You'll have all the trouble you want
+before this evening is through. Irene, come here."
+
+At one side of the room was a narrow doorway, which most of the members
+believed led to a cupboard, but which a few knew was a safety bolt in
+case of trouble. The Prince had recognized the door by its description,
+and had edged his way towards it, taking the key from his pocket.
+
+He gripped the girl by the waist, inserted the key and flung open the
+door. She struggled to escape, but the hand that held the key also held
+the revolver, and never once did it point anywhere but at Cherry Bim's
+anatomy.
+
+"Help!" cried the girl. "This man is Serganoff, the Chief of Police at
+Petrograd----"
+
+There was a crash, and the sound of hurrying footsteps. A voice from the
+outer hall screamed, "The police!"
+
+At that moment Serganoff dragged the girl through the doorway and
+slammed it behind him. They were in a small cellar, almost entirely
+filled with barrels, with only a narrow alley-way left to reach a
+farther door. He dragged her through this apartment, up a short flight
+of stairs. They were on the level of the restaurant, and the girl could
+hear the clatter of plates as he pushed her up another stairway and into
+a room. By its furniture she guessed it was a private dining-room. The
+blinds were drawn and she had no means of knowing whether the apartment
+overlooked the front or the back of the premises.
+
+He stopped long enough to lock the door and then he turned to her,
+slipping off his mask.
+
+"I thought you would recognize me," he said coolly.
+
+"What does this outrage mean?" asked the girl with heaving bosom. "You
+shall pay for this, colonel."
+
+"There will be a lot of payment to be made before this matter is
+through," he said calmly. "Calm yourself, Irene. I have saved you from a
+great disgrace. Are you aware that, at the moment I brought you from
+that room, the English police were raiding it?"
+
+"I should not have been in the room but for you," she said, "my
+father----"
+
+"It is about your father I want to speak," he said. "Irene, I am the
+sole heir to your father's estate. Beyond the property which is settled
+on you, you have nothing. My affection for you is known and approved at
+Court."
+
+"Your affection!" she laughed bitterly. "I'd as soon have the affection
+of a wolf!"
+
+"You could not have a more complete wolf than I," he said meaningly. "Do
+you know what has happened to-night? An anarchist club in London has
+been raided, and the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav has been found in the
+company of men whose object is to destroy the monarchy."
+
+She realized with a sickening sense of disaster all that it meant. She
+knew as well as he in what bad odour her father stood at Court, and
+guessed the steps which would be taken if this matter became public.
+
+"I was brought here by a trick," she said steadily. "A letter came to
+me, as I thought, from Israel Kensky----"
+
+"It was from me," he interrupted.
+
+"And you planned the raid, of course?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"I planned the raid in the most promising circumstances," he said. "The
+gentleman who offered to be your good knight is a well-known New York
+gun-man. He is wanted by the police, who probably have him in their
+custody at this moment. He was brought here to-night, and an offer was
+made to him, an offer of a large sum of money, on condition that he
+would destroy the Czar."
+
+She gasped.
+
+"You see, my little Irene, that when this gun-man's evidence is taken in
+court, matters will look very bad for the Yaroslav family."
+
+"What do you propose?" she asked.
+
+"There are two alternatives," he said. "The first is that I should
+arrest you and hand you over to the police. The second is that you
+should undertake most solemnly to marry me, in which case I will take
+you away from here."
+
+She was silent.
+
+"Is there a third possibility?" she asked, and he shook his head.
+
+"My dear," he said familiarly as he flicked a speck of dust from his
+sleeve. "I think you will take the easier way. None of these scum will
+betray you, thinking that you are one of themselves--as I happen to
+know, some of the best families in Russia are associated with plotters
+of this type. As for the American, who might be inclined to talk, in a
+few weeks he will be on his way to New York to serve a life sentence. I
+have been looking up his record, and particularly drew the attention of
+the English police to the fact that he would be here to-night."
+
+Cherry Bim, creeping up the stairs in his stockinged feet--he had
+marked and shot the fuse-box to pieces before the police came in, and
+had burst his way through the door in the wall--heard the sound of
+voices in the little room and stopped to listen. It was not a thick
+door, and he could hear Serganoff's voice very clearly. He stooped down
+to the key-hole. Serganoff had not taken the key out, and it was an
+old-fashioned key, the end of which projected an eighth of an inch on
+the other side of the door. Cherry Bim felt in his pocket and produced a
+pair of peculiarly shaped nippers, and gripped the end of the key,
+turning it gently. Then he slipped his handy gun from his pocket and
+waited.
+
+"Now, Irene," said Serganoff's voice. "You must decide. In a few minutes
+the police will be up here, for they are instructed to make a complete
+search of the house. I can either explain that you are here to witness
+the raid, or that I have followed you up and arrested you. Which is it
+to be?"
+
+Still she did not answer. Serganoff had laid his revolver on the table
+and this she was manoeuvring to reach. He divined her intention before
+she sprang forward, and, gripping her by the waist, threw her back.
+
+"That will be more useful to me than to you," he said.
+
+"Sure thing it will!" said a voice behind him.
+
+He turned as swift as a cat and fired. The horrified girl heard only one
+shot, so quickly did one report follow another. She saw Cherry Bim raise
+his hand and wipe the blood from his cheek, saw the splinter of wood
+where the bullet had struck behind him; then Serganoff groaned and
+sprawled forward over the table. She dared not look at him, but followed
+Bim's beckoning finger.
+
+"Down the stairs and out of that door, miss," he said, "or the bulls
+will have you."
+
+She did not ask him who the "bulls" were; she could guess. She flew down
+the stairs, with trembling hands unfastened the lock and stepped into
+the street. It was empty, save for two men, and one of these came
+forward to meet her with outstretched hands.
+
+"Thank God you're safe!" he said. "You weren't there, were you?"
+
+Malcolm Hay was incoherent. The detective who was with him could but
+smile a little, for the girl had come out of the door which, according
+to his instructions, led only to the private dining-room.
+
+"Take me away," she whispered.
+
+He put his arm about her trembling figure, and led her along the street.
+All the time he was in terror lest the police should call her back, and
+desire him to identify her; but nothing happened and they gained
+Shaftesbury Avenue and a blessed taxicab.
+
+"To Israel Kensky," she said. "I can't go home like this."
+
+He stretched out of the window and gave fresh instructions.
+
+"I am greatly obliged to you, Mr. Hay," she faltered and then covered
+her face with her hands. "Oh, it was dreadful, dreadful!"
+
+"What happened?" he asked.
+
+She shook her head. Then suddenly:
+
+"No, no, I must go home. Will you tell the cabman? There is a chance
+that I may get into my suite without Boolba seeing. Will you go on to
+Israel Kensky after you have left me, and tell him what has happened?"
+
+He nodded, and again gave the change of instructions.
+
+They reached the hotel at a period when most of the guests were either
+lingering over their dinner or had gone to the theatre.
+
+"I hate leaving you like this," he said; "how do I know that you will
+get in without detection?"
+
+She smiled in spite of her distress.
+
+"You're an inventor, aren't you, Mr. Hay?" she laughed. "But I am afraid
+even you could not invent a story which would convince my father if he
+knew I had been to that horrible place." Presently she said: "My room
+overlooks the street. If I get in without detection I will come to the
+window and wave a handkerchief."
+
+He waited in a fit of apprehension, until presently he saw a light leap
+up to three windows, and her figure appeared. There was a flutter of a
+white handkerchief, and the blinds were drawn. Malcolm Hay drove to
+Maida Vale, feeling that the age of romance was not wholly dead.
+
+To his surprise Kensky had had the news before he reached there.
+
+"Is she safe? Is she safe?" asked the old man tremulously. "Now, thank
+Jehovah for his manifold blessings and mercies! I feared something was
+wrong. Her Highness wrote to me this afternoon, and I did not get the
+letter," said Israel. "They waylaid the messenger, and wrote and told
+her to go to the Silver Lion--the devils!"
+
+His hand was shaking as he took up the poker to stir the fire.
+
+"He, at any rate, will trouble none of us again," he said with malignant
+satisfaction.
+
+"He? Who?"
+
+"Serganoff," said the old man. "He was dead when the police found him!"
+
+"And the American?" asked Hay.
+
+"Only Russians were arrested," said Israel Kensky. "I do not think I
+shall see him again."
+
+In this he was wrong, though six years were to pass before they met: the
+mystic, Israel Kensky, Cherry Bim the modern knight-errant, and Malcolm
+Hay.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+KENSKY OF KIEFF
+
+
+Malcolm Hay drew rein half a verst from the Church of St. Andrea. Though
+his shaggy little horse showed no signs of distress, Malcolm kicked his
+feet free from the stirrups and descended, for his journey had been a
+long one, the day was poisonously hot and the steppe across which he had
+ridden, for all its golden beauty, its wealth of blue cornflour and
+yellow genista, had been wearisome. Overhead the sky was an unbroken
+bowl of blue and at its zenith rode a brazen merciless sun.
+
+He took a leather cigar-case from his pocket, extracted a long black
+cheroot and lit it; then, leaving his horse to its own devices, he
+mounted the bank by the side of the road, from whence he could look
+across the valley of the Dneiper. That majestic river lay beneath him
+and to the right.
+
+Before him, at the foot of the long, steep and winding road, lay the
+quarter which is called Podol.
+
+For the rest his horizon was filled with a jumble of buildings,
+magnificent or squalid; the half-revealed roofs on the wooded slopes of
+the four hills, and the ragged fringe of belfry and glittering cupola
+which made up the picture of Kieff.
+
+The month was June and the year of grace 1914, and Malcolm Hay, chief
+engineer of the Ukraine-American Oil Corporation, had no other thought
+in his mind, as he looked upon the undoubted beauty of Kieff, than that
+it would be a very pleasant place to leave. He climbed the broken stone
+wall and stood, his hands thrust deeply into his breeches pockets,
+watching the scene. It was one of those innumerable holy days which the
+Russian peasant celebrated with such zest. Rather it was the second of
+three consecutive feast days and, as Malcolm knew, there was small
+chance of any work being done on the field until his labourers had taken
+their fill of holiness, and had slept off the colossal drunk which
+inevitably followed this pious exercise.
+
+A young peasant, wearing a sheepskin coat despite the stifling heat of
+the day, walked quickly up the hill leading a laden donkey. The man
+stopped when he was abreast of Malcolm, took a cigarette from the inside
+of his coat and lit it.
+
+"God save you, _dudushka_," he said cheerfully.
+
+Malcolm was so used to being addressed as "little grandfather," and
+that for all his obvious youth, that he saw nothing funny in the
+address.
+
+"God save you, my little man," he replied.
+
+The new-comer was a broad-faced, pleasant-looking fellow with a ready
+grin, and black eyebrows that met above his nose. Malcolm Hay knew the
+type, but to-day being for idleness, he did not dread the man's
+loquacity as he would had it been a working day.
+
+"My name is Gleb," introduced the man: "I come from the village of
+Potchkoi where my father has seven cows and a bull."
+
+"God give him prosperity and many calves," said Malcolm mechanically.
+
+"Tell me, _gospodar_, do you ride into our holy city to-day?"
+
+"Surely," said Malcolm.
+
+"Then you will do well to avoid the Street of Black Mud," said Gleb.
+
+Malcolm waited.
+
+"I speak wisely because of my name," said the man with calm assurance;
+"possibly your excellence has wondered why I should bear the same name
+as the great saint who lies yonder," he pointed to one of the towering
+belfries shimmering with gold that rose above the shoulder of a distant
+hill. "I am Gleb, the son of Gleb, and it is said that we go back a
+thousand years to the Holy Ones. Also, it was prophesied by a wise
+woman," said the peasant, puffing out a cloud of smoke and crossing
+himself at the same time, "that I should go the way of holiness and that
+after my death my body should be incorruptible."
+
+"All this is very interesting, little brother," said Malcolm with a
+smile, "but first you must tell me why I should not go into the Street
+of Black Mud."
+
+The man laughed softly.
+
+"Because of Israel Kensky," he said significantly.
+
+You could not live within a hundred miles of Kieff and not know of
+Israel Kensky. Malcolm realized with a start that he had not met the old
+man since he left him in London.
+
+"In what way has Israel Kensky offended?" asked Malcolm, understanding
+the menace in the man's tone.
+
+Gleb, squatting in the dust, brushed his sheepskin delicately with the
+tips of his fingers.
+
+"Little father," he said, "all men know Israel Kensky is a Jew and that
+he practises secret devil-rites, using the blood of Christian children.
+This is the way of Jews, as your lordship knows. Also he was seen on the
+plains to shoot pigeons, which is a terrible offence, for to shoot a
+pigeon is to kill the Holy Ghost."
+
+Malcolm knew that the greater offence had not yet been stated and
+waited.
+
+"To-day I think they will kill him if the Grand Duke does not send his
+soldiers to hold the people in check--or the Grand Duchess, his lovely
+daughter who has spoken for him before, does not speak again."
+
+"But why should they kill Kensky?" asked Malcolm.
+
+It was not the first time that Israel Kensky had been the subject of
+hostile demonstrations. The young engineer had heard these stories of
+horrible rites practised at the expense of Christian children, and had
+heard them so often that he was hardened to the repetition.
+
+The grin had left the man's face and there was a fanatical light in the
+solemn eyes when he replied:
+
+"_Gospodar_, it is known that this man has a book which is called 'The
+Book of All-Power!'"
+
+Malcolm nodded.
+
+"So the foolish say," he said.
+
+"It has been seen," said the other; "his own daughter, Sophia Kensky,
+who has been baptised in the faith of Our Blessed Lord, has told the
+Archbishop of this book. She, herself, has seen it."
+
+"But why should you kill a man because he has a book?" demanded Malcolm,
+knowing well what the answer would be.
+
+"Why should we kill him! A thousand reasons, _gospodar_," cried the man
+passionately; "he who has this book understands the black magic of
+Kensky and the Jews! By the mysteries in this book he is able to torment
+his enemies and bring sorrow to the Christians who oppose him. Did not
+the man Ivan Nickolovitch throw a stone at him, and did not Ivan drop
+dead the next day on his way to mass, aye and turn black before they
+carried him to the hospital? And did not Mishka Yakov, who spat at him,
+suffer almost immediately from a great swelling of the throat so that
+she is not able to speak or swallow to this very day without pain?"
+
+Malcolm jumped down from the wall and laughed, and it was a helpless
+little laugh, the laugh of one who, for four long years, had fought
+against the superstitions of the Russian peasantry. He had seen the work
+of his hands brought to naught, and a boring abandoned just short of the
+oil because a cross-eyed man, attracted by curiosity, had come and
+looked at the work. He had seen his wells go up in smoke for some
+imaginary act of witchcraft on the part of his foreman, and, though he
+laughed, he was in no sense amused.
+
+"Go with God, little brother," he said; "some day you will have more
+sense and know that men do not practise witchcraft."
+
+"Perhaps I am wiser than you," said Gleb, getting up and whistling for
+his donkey, who had strayed up the side lane.
+
+Before Malcolm could reply there was a clatter of hoofs and two riders
+came galloping round the bend of the road making for the town. The first
+of these was a girl, and the man who followed behind was evidently the
+servant of an exalted house, for he wore a livery of green and gold.
+
+Gleb's ass had come cantering down at his master's whistle and now stood
+broadside-on in the middle of the road, blocking the way. The girl
+pulled up her horse with a jerk and, half-turning her head to her
+attendant, she called. The man rode forward.
+
+"Get your donkey out of the way, fool," he boomed in a deep-chested
+roar.
+
+He was a big man, broad-shouldered and stout. Like most Russian domestic
+servants, his face was clean-shaven, but Malcolm, watching the scene
+idly, observed only this about him--that he had a crooked nose and that
+his hair was a fiery red.
+
+"Gently, gently." It was the girl who spoke and she addressed her
+restive horse in English.
+
+As for Gleb, the peasant, he stood, his hands clasped before him, his
+head humbly hung, incapable of movement, and with a laugh Malcolm jumped
+down from the bank, seized the donkey by his bridle and drew him
+somewhat reluctantly to the side of the road. The girl's horse had been
+curveting and prancing nervously, so that it brought her to within a
+few paces of Malcolm, and he looked up, wondering what rich man's
+daughter was this who spoke in English to her horse ... only once before
+had he seen her in the light of day.
+
+The face was not pale, yet the colour that was in her cheeks so
+delicately toned with the ivory-white of forehead and neck that she
+looked pale. The eyes, set wide apart, were so deep a grey that in
+contrast with the creamy pallor of brow they appeared black.
+
+A firm, red mouth he noticed; thin pencilling of eyebrows, a tangle of
+dark brown hair; but neither sight of her nor sound of her tired
+drawling voice, gave her such permanence in his mind as the indefinite
+sense of womanliness that clothed her like an aurora.
+
+He responded wonderfully to some mysterious call she made upon the man
+in him. He felt that his senses played no part in shaping his view. If
+he had met her in the dark, and had neither seen nor heard; if she had
+been a bare-legged peasant girl on her way to the fields; if he had met
+her anywhere, anyhow--she would have been divine.
+
+She, for her part, saw a tall young man, mahogany faced, leanly made, in
+old shooting-jacket and battered Stetson hat. She saw a good forehead
+and an unruly mop of hair, and beneath two eyes, now awe-stricken by
+her femininity (this she might have guessed) rather than by her exalted
+rank. They were eyes with a capacity for much laughter, she thought, and
+wished Russian men had eyes like those.
+
+"My horse is afraid of your donkey, I think," she smiled.
+
+"It isn't my donkey," he stammered, and she laughed again frankly at his
+embarrassment.
+
+And then the unexpected happened. With a frightened neigh her horse
+leapt sideways toward him. He sprang back to avoid the horse's hoofs and
+heard her little exclamation of dismay. In the fraction of a second he
+realized she was falling and held out his arms to catch her. For a
+moment she lay on his breast, her soft cheek against his, the
+overpowering fragrance of her presence taking his breath away. Then she
+gently disengaged herself and stepped back. There was colour in her face
+now and something which might have been mischief, or annoyance, or sheer
+amusement, in her eyes.
+
+"Thank you," she said.
+
+Her tone was even and did not encourage further advances on his part.
+
+"I lost my balance. Will you hold my horse's head?"
+
+She was back in the saddle and turning, with a proud little inclination
+of her head, was picking a way down the steep hill before he realized
+what had happened. He gazed after her, hoping at least that feminine
+curiosity would induce her to turn and look back, but in this he was
+disappointed.
+
+The peasant, Gleb, still stood by the side of the road, his hands
+clasped, his head bent as though in a trance.
+
+"Wake up, little monkey," said Malcolm testily. "Why did you not hold
+the horse for the lady whilst I helped her to mount?"
+
+"_Dudushka_, it is forbidden, _Zaprestcheno_," said the man huskily.
+"She is _Kaziomne_! The property of the Czar!"
+
+"The Czar!" gasped Malcolm.
+
+He had lived long enough in Russia to have imbibed some of the awe and
+reverence for that personage.
+
+"Little master," said the man, "it was her Magnificence, the Grand
+Duchess Irene Yaroslav."
+
+"The Grand----!" Malcolm gasped. The reality of his dreams and he had
+not recognized her!
+
+Long after the peasant had departed he stood on the spot where he had
+held her, like a man in a trance, and he was very thoughtful when he
+picked up the reins of his horse and swung himself into the saddle.
+
+Kieff is built upon many hills and it has the beauty and distinction of
+possessing steeper roads than any other city in Europe. He was on his
+way to the Grand Hotel, and this necessitated his passing through Podol,
+crossing the Hill of the Cliff, and descending into the valley beyond.
+
+Considering it was a feast day the streets were strangely deserted. He
+met a few old men and women in festal garb and supposed that the
+majority of the people were at the shrines in which Kieff abounds. He
+passed through the poorer Jewish quarter, and did not remember the
+peasant's warning not to go into the Street of Black Mud until he had
+turned into that thoroughfare.
+
+Long before he had reached the street he heard the roar of the crowd,
+and knew that some kind of trouble was brewing. The street was filled
+with knots of men and women, and their faces by common attraction, were
+turned in one direction. The focal point was a densely packed crowd
+which swayed toward the gateway of a tall, grim-looking house, which he
+recognized as the home of the millionaire, Kensky.
+
+The roar intensified to a continuous shriek of malignant hate. He saw
+sticks and fists brandished and heard above the scream of frenzied women
+the deep-throated "Kill! Death to the Jew!" which was not unfamiliar to
+one who knew Kieff in moments of religious excitement. It was no
+business of his, and he drew his horse to the side of the street and
+watched, wondering what part the black-bearded Russian priests, who were
+in force and who seemed to form the centre of each knot of idlers, were
+playing in this act of persecution.
+
+On the outskirts of the crowd he observed a green and gold coat, and,
+its wearer turning his head, he recognized him as the swarthy menial who
+had ridden behind the Grand Duchess. He was as violent and as energetic
+as the most lawless, and seemed engaged in pushing men into the crowd
+and dragging forward hesitant bystanders to swell the throng which was
+pressing about the iron gates of the building.
+
+And then Malcolm saw something which brought his heart to his mouth, a
+white hand raised from above the bobbing black heads, a hand raised in
+appeal or command. Instinctively he knew its owner and spurred his horse
+into the throng, sending the people flying in all directions. There was
+a small clear space immediately before the door which enabled him to see
+the two chief actors in the drama long before he was within hailing
+distance.
+
+The space was caused by a dead horse, as he afterwards discovered, but,
+for the moment, his eyes were fixed on the girl who stood with her back
+to the grille, shielding with her frail body a little old man,
+white-bearded and bent, who crouched behind her outstretched arms, his
+pale face streaming with blood. A broken key in the grille told the
+story of his foiled attempt to escape. Grimy hands clutched at Malcolm's
+knees as he drove through the press, a stone whistled past his ear and
+shrill voices uttered imprecations at the daring foreigner, but he
+swerved to left and right and made a way until the sight of the dead
+horse brought his frightened mount to a quivering standstill.
+
+He leapt from the saddle and sprang to the girl's side, and to his
+amazement his appearance seemed to strike consternation into her heart.
+
+"Why did you come? Get away as quickly as you can," she breathed. "Oh,
+you were mad to come here!"
+
+"But--but you?" he said.
+
+"They will not hurt me," she said rapidly. "It is the old man they want.
+Can you smash the lock and get him inside?"
+
+"Give us the book, Jew," yelled a deep voice above the babel of sound.
+"Give us the book and you shall live! Lady! Magnificence! Make the old
+man give us the book!"
+
+Malcolm took a flying kick at the gate and the lock yielded. He half
+lifted, half carried the old man and pushed inside, where another locked
+door confronted them.
+
+"Have you a key?" demanded Malcolm hurriedly. "Quick!"
+
+The old man felt in his pocket with trembling fingers and in doing so he
+crept behind his guardian. Malcolm now turned and faced the crowd.
+
+"Come in, for God's sake," he called to the girl, but she shook her
+head.
+
+"They will not hurt me," she said over her shoulder; "it is you!"
+
+At that moment Malcolm felt something heavy slipped into the loose
+pocket of his jacket and a quivering voice, harsh with fear, whispered
+in his ear:
+
+"Keep it, _gospodar_. To-morrow I will come for it at the Grand Hotel at
+the middle hour!"
+
+The crowd was now surging forward and the girl was being pressed back
+into the little lobby by their weight. Suddenly the door opened with a
+crack and the old man slipped through.
+
+"Come, come," he cried.
+
+Malcolm leapt forward, clasped the girl about the waist and swung her
+behind him.
+
+The shrieks of the crowd broke and a new note crept into the pandemonium
+of sound, a note of fear. From outside came a clatter of hoofs on the
+cobbled roadway. There was a flash of red and white pennons, the glitter
+of steel lances and a glimpse of bottle-green coats as half a sotnia of
+Cossacks swept the street clear.
+
+They looked at one another, the girl and the man, oblivious to the
+appeal of hand and voice which the old man in the doorway was offering.
+
+"I think you are very brave," said the girl, "or else very foolish. You
+do not know our Kieff people."
+
+"I know them very well," he said grimly.
+
+"It was equally foolish of me to interfere," she said quickly, "and I
+ought not to blame you. They killed my horse."
+
+She pointed to the dead horse lying before the doorway.
+
+"Where was your servant?" he asked, but she made no reply. He repeated
+the question, thinking she had not heard and being at some loss for any
+other topic of conversation.
+
+"Let us go out," she said, ignoring the query, "we are safe now."
+
+He was following her when he remembered the packet in his pocket and
+turned to the old man.
+
+"Here is your----"
+
+"No, no, no, keep it," whispered Israel Kensky. "They may come again
+to-night! My daughter told them that I was carrying it. May she roast!"
+
+"What is it?" asked Malcolm curiously.
+
+The old man's lips parted in a toothless smile.
+
+"It is the 'Book of All-Power!'"
+
+He blinked up at Malcolm, peering into his face expectantly. "They all
+desire it, _gospodar_, from the Grand Duke in his beautiful palace to
+the _moujik_ in his cellar--they all desire my lovely book! I trust you
+with it for one night, _gospodar_, because you are English. Ah, well,
+you are not Russian. Guard it closely, for it holds the secret of tears
+and of happiness. You shall learn how to make men and women your slaves
+and how to turn people into Jews, and how to make men and women adore
+you, ai, ai! There are recipes for beauty in my book which make plain
+women lovely and old men young!"
+
+Malcolm could only stare.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE GRAND DUKE IS AFFABLE
+
+
+The girl's voice called, and Malcolm left old Kensky without a word and
+went to her side. "Will you walk with me to my father's palace?" she
+said. "I do not think it is safe for you to be alone."
+
+A semi-circle of mounted Cossacks surrounded them now, and the
+unfaithful Boolba (such was the servant's name, he learnt) was standing
+with an impassive face holding his horse's head.
+
+"One of the soldiers will take your horse," she said. "Boolba, you will
+follow us."
+
+Her voice was stern and she looked the man straight in the eyes, but he
+did not flinch.
+
+"_Prikazeno_, Highness, it is ordered," he said simply.
+
+She turned and walked the way she had come, turning into the big square
+followed by a small escort of Cossacks.
+
+They walked in silence for some time, and it was the girl who first
+spoke.
+
+"What do you think of Russia, Mr. Hay?" she asked.
+
+He jerked his head round at her in surprise.
+
+"You didn't know me on the hill," she laughed, "but I knew you! And
+there are not so many foreigners in the Kieff region that you should be
+unknown to the Grand Duke," she said, "and besides, you were at the
+reception which my father gave a year ago."
+
+"I did not see your Highness there," said Malcolm. "I came
+especially----" he stopped short in confusion.
+
+"That was probably because I was not visible," she replied dryly. "I
+have been to Cambridge for a year to finish my education."
+
+"That is why your English is so good," he smiled.
+
+"It's much better than your Russian," she said calmly. "You ought not to
+have said '_ukhoditzay_' to people--you only say that to beggars, and I
+think they were rather annoyed with you."
+
+"I should imagine they were," he laughed; "but won't you tell me what
+happened to your servant? I thought I saw him on the outskirts of the
+crowd and the impression I formed was----" he hesitated.
+
+"I shouldn't form impressions if I were you," she said hurriedly. "Here
+in Russia one ought not to puzzle one's head over such things. When you
+meet the inexplicable, accept it as such and inquire no further."
+
+She was silent again, and when she spoke she was more serious.
+
+"The Russian people always impress me as a great sea of lava, boiling
+and spluttering and rolling slowly between frail banks which we have
+built for them," said the girl.
+
+"I often wonder whether those banks will ever break," said Malcolm
+quietly; "if they do----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"They will burn up Russia," said Malcolm.
+
+"So I think," said the girl. "Father believes that the war----" she
+stopped short.
+
+"The war?"
+
+Malcolm had heard rumours so often of the inevitable war which would be
+fought to establish the hegemony of the Slav over Eastern Europe that
+the scepticism in his tone was pardonable. She looked at him sharply.
+
+"You do not think there will be war?"
+
+"One has heard so often," he began.
+
+"I know, I know," she said, a little impatiently, and changed the
+subject.
+
+They talked about the people, the lovable character of the peasants, the
+extraordinary depth of their religious faiths, their amazing
+superstitions, and suddenly Malcolm remembered the book in his pocket,
+and was about to speak of it, but stopped himself, feeling that, by so
+speaking, he was betraying the confidence of the old man who had
+entrusted his treasure to a stranger's care.
+
+"What is this story of the book of Kensky?"
+
+"'The Book of All-Power'?"
+
+She did not smile as he had expected her to.
+
+"Old Israel Kensky is a curious man," she said guardedly. "The people
+credit him with all sorts of powers which of course he does not possess.
+They believe he is a wizard, that he can bend people to his will. They
+say the most terrible things about the religious ceremonies over which
+he presides."
+
+They were mounting the hill behind which lay the fashionable quarter of
+Kieff with its great stone palaces, its wonderful cherry gardens and
+broad avenues.
+
+"I like old Kensky," she went on; "he sometimes comes to the palace to
+bring new silks--he is the greatest merchant in Little Russia. He even
+tells me his troubles--he has a terrible daughter: you have heard about
+her?"
+
+"I thought she was rather good," said Malcolm humorously. "Isn't she a
+Christian?"
+
+The girl shrugged her shoulders. Evidently her Grand Ducal Highness had
+no great opinion of Sophia Kensky's conversion.
+
+The Grand Ducal palace was built in the Byzantine style and presented,
+from the broad carriage drive that led from the road, a confusion of
+roofs, windows and bastions, as though the designer had left the working
+out of his plan to fifty different architects, and each architect had
+interpreted the scheme of construction in his own way.
+
+The Grand Duke was standing in the portico as they went through the
+gate, and came down the steps to meet them. He was a mild-looking man of
+medium height and wore pince-nez. Malcolm remembered that on the one
+occasion he had met his Highness he had been disappointed in his lack of
+personal grandeur.
+
+"My child, my child!" said the Duke, coming to the girl with
+outstretched arms. "What a terrible misfortune! How came you to be mixed
+up in this matter? The commandant has just telephoned to me. I have
+called for his resignation. By St. Inokeste, I will not have the rabble
+breathing upon you! And this is the good gentleman who came to your
+rescue?"
+
+He surveyed Malcolm with his cold blue eyes, but both glance and
+intonation lacked the cordiality which his words implied.
+
+"I thank you. I am indeed grateful to you. You understand they would not
+have harmed the Grand Duchess, but this you could not know. As for the
+Jew----"
+
+He became suddenly thoughtful. He had the air of a man wholly
+preoccupied in his secret thoughts and who now emerged from his shell
+under the greatest protest. To Malcolm it seemed that he resented even
+the necessity for communicating his thoughts to his own daughter.
+
+"I am happy to have been of service to your Grand Ducal Highness," said
+Malcolm correctly.
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," interrupted the Grand Duke nervously, "but you will
+stay and breakfast with me? Come, I insist, Mr.--er--er----"
+
+"Mr. Hay, father," said the girl.
+
+The conversation throughout was carried on in English, which was not
+remarkable, remembering that that was the family language of the Court.
+
+"Yes, yes, yes, Mr. Hay, you must stay to breakfast. You have been very
+good, very noble, I am sure. Irene, you must persuade this gentleman."
+He held out his hand jerkily and Malcolm took it with a bow.
+
+Then without another word or even so much as a glance at his daughter,
+the Grand Duke turned and hurried back into the palace, leaving Malcolm
+very astonished and a little uncomfortable.
+
+The girl saw his embarrassment.
+
+"My father does not seem to be very hospitable," she smiled, and once
+more he saw that little gleam of mischief in her eyes, "but I will give
+you a warmer invitation."
+
+He spread out his hands in mock dismay and looked down at his untidy
+clothes.
+
+"Your Highness is very generous," he said, "but how can I come to the
+Grand Duke's table like this?"
+
+"You will not see the Grand Duke," she laughed; "father gives these
+invitations but never accepts them himself! He breakfasts in his own
+room, so if you can endure me alone----" she challenged.
+
+He said nothing but looked much, and her eyes fell before his. All the
+time he was conscious that red-haired Boolba stood stiffly behind him, a
+spectator, yet, as Malcolm felt, a participant in this small affair of
+the breakfast invitation. She followed Malcolm's look and beckoned the
+man forward. He had already surrendered the horses to an orderly.
+
+"Take the lord to a guest-room," she said in Russian, "and send a valet
+to attend to him."
+
+"It is ordered," said the man, and with a nod, the girl turned and
+walked into the house, followed at a more leisurely pace by Malcolm and
+the man with the crooked nose.
+
+Boolba led the way up a broad flight of stairs, carpeted with thick red
+pile, along a corridor pierced at intervals with great windows, to
+another corridor leading off and through a door which, from its
+dimensions, suggested the entrance to a throne-room, into a suite
+gorgeously furnished and resplendent with silver electroliers. It
+consisted of a saloon leading into a bedroom, which was furnished in the
+same exquisite taste. A further door led to a marble-tiled bathroom.
+
+"Such luxury!" murmured Malcolm.
+
+"Has the _gospodar_ any orders?"
+
+It was the solemn Boolba who spoke. Malcolm looked at him.
+
+"Tell me this, Boolba," he said, falling into the familiar style of
+address which experience had taught him was the correct line to follow
+when dealing with Russian servants, "how came it that your mistress was
+alone before the house of Israel Kensky, the Jew, and you were on the
+outskirts of the crowd urging them on?"
+
+If the man felt any perturbation at the bluntness of the question he did
+not show it.
+
+"Kensky is a Jew," he said coolly; "on the night of the Pentecost he
+takes the blood of new-born Christian babies and sprinkles his money so
+that it may be increased in the coming year. This Sophia Kensky, his own
+daughter, has told me."
+
+Malcolm shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You are no ignorant _moujik_, Boolba," he said contemptuously, "you
+have travelled with his Highness all over the world." (This was a shot
+at a venture, but apparently was not without justification.) "How can
+you, an educated man of the people, believe such rubbish?"
+
+"He has a book, _gospodar_," said Boolba, "and we people who desire
+power would have that book, for it teaches men how they may command the
+souls of others, so that when they lift their little fingers, those who
+hate them best shall obey them."
+
+Malcolm looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"Do you believe this?"
+
+For the first time a smile crossed the face of the man with the crooked
+nose. It was not a pleasant smile to see, for there was cunning in it
+and a measureless capacity for cruelty.
+
+"Who knows all the miracles and wonders of the world?" he said. "My lord
+knows there is a devil, and has he not his angels on earth? It is best
+to be sure of these things, and we cannot be certain--until we have seen
+the book which the Jew gave to your lordship."
+
+He paused a little before uttering the last sentence which gave his
+assertion a special significance. Malcolm eyed him narrowly.
+
+"The Jew did not give me any book, Boolba," he said.
+
+"I thought your lordship----"
+
+"You thought wrongly," said Malcolm shortly.
+
+Boolba bowed and withdrew.
+
+The situation was not a particularly pleasant one. Malcolm had in his
+possession a book which men were willing to commit murder to obtain, and
+he was not at all anxious that his name should be associated with the
+practice of witchcraft.
+
+It was all ridiculous and absurd, of course, but then in Russia nothing
+was so absurd that it could be lightly dismissed from consideration. He
+walked to the door and turned the key, then took from his pocket the
+thing which Israel Kensky had slipped in. It was a thick, stoutly bound
+volume secured by two brass locks. The binding was of yellow calf, and
+it bore the following inscription in Russian stamped in gold lettering:
+
+
+                     "THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER."
+
+
+"Herein is the magic of power and the words and symbols which unlock the
+sealed hearts of men and turn their proud wills to water."
+
+On the bottom left-hand corner of the cover was an inscription in
+Hebrew, which Malcolm could not read, but which he guessed stood for the
+birth-name of Israel Kensky. He turned the book over in his hand, and,
+curiosity overcoming him, he tried to force his thumb-nail into the
+marbled edge of the leaves that he might secure a glimpse of its
+contents. But the book was too tightly bound, and after another careful
+examination, he pulled off his coat and started to make himself
+presentable for breakfast.
+
+The little meal was wholly delightful. Besides Malcolm and the girl
+there were present a faded Russian lady, whom he guessed was her
+official chaperon, and a sour-visaged Russian priest who ceremoniously
+blessed the food and was apparently the Grand Duke's household chaplain.
+He did not speak throughout the meal, and seemed to be in a condition of
+rapt contemplation.
+
+But for all Malcolm knew there might have been a hundred people
+present--he had eyes and ears only for the girl. She had changed to a
+dark blue costume beneath which was a plain white silk blouse cut deeply
+at the neck.
+
+He was struck by the fact that she wore no jewels, and he found himself
+rejoicing at the absence of rings in general and of one ring in
+particular.
+
+Of course, it was all lunacy, sheer clotted madness, as he told himself,
+but this was a day to riot in illusions, for undreamt-of things had
+happened, and who could swear that the days of fairies had passed? To
+meet a dream-Irene on his way to Kieff was unlikely, to rescue her from
+an infuriated mob (for though they insisted that she was in no danger
+he was no less insistent that he rescued her, since this illusion was
+the keystone to all others), to be sitting at lunch with such a vision
+of youthful loveliness--all these things were sufficiently outside the
+range of probabilities to encourage the development of his dream in a
+comfortable direction.
+
+"To-night," thought he, "I shall be eating a prosaic dinner at the Grand
+Hotel, and the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav will be a remote personage
+whom I shall only see in the picture papers, or possibly over the heads
+of a crowd on her way to the railway station."
+
+And so he was outrageously familiar. He ceased to "Highness" her,
+laughed at her jokes and in turn provoked her to merriment. The meal
+came to an end too soon for him, but not too soon for the nodding
+dowager nor the silent, contemplating priest, who had worn through his
+period of saintly abstraction and had grown most humanly impatient.
+
+The girl looked at her watch.
+
+"Good gracious," she said, "it is four o'clock and I have promised to go
+to tennis." (Malcolm loathed tennis from that hour.)
+
+He took his leave of her with a return to something of the old
+ceremonial.
+
+"Your Grand Ducal Highness has been most gracious," he said, but she
+arrested his eloquence with a little grimace.
+
+"Please, remember, Mr. Hay, that I shall be a Grand Ducal Highness for
+quite a long time, so do not spoil a very pleasant afternoon by being
+over-punctilious."
+
+He laughed.
+
+"Then I will call you----"
+
+He came to a dead end, and the moment was embarrassing for both, though
+why a Grand Ducal Highness should be embarrassed by a young engineer she
+alone might explain.
+
+Happily there arrived most unexpectedly the Grand Duke himself, and if
+his appearance was amazing, as it was to judge by the girl's face, his
+geniality was sensational.
+
+He crossed the hall and gripped the young man's hand.
+
+"You're not going, Mr. Hay?" he asked. "Come, come, I have been a very
+bad host, but I do not intend to let you go so soon! I have much that I
+want to talk to you about. You are the engineer in charge of the Ukraine
+Oil Field, is it not so? Excellent! Now, I have oil on my estate in the
+Urals but it has never been developed...."
+
+He took the young man by the arm and led him through the big doors to
+the garden, giving him no chance to complete or decently postpone his
+farewell to the girl, who watched with undisguised amazement this
+staggering affability on the part of her parent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE HAND AT THE WINDOW
+
+
+An hour later she came from tennis, to find her father obviously bored
+almost to the point of tears, yet making an heroic attempt to appear
+interested in Malcolm's enthusiastic dissertation of the future of the
+oil industry. The Grand Duke rose gladly on her appearance, and handed
+him over.
+
+"I have persuaded Mr. Hay to dine with us to-night, and I have sent to
+the hotel for his baggage. He is most entertaining, my little love, most
+entertaining. Persuade him to talk to you about--er--oil and things,"
+and he hurriedly withdrew.
+
+The girl sat down on the seat he had vacated.
+
+"You're a most amazing person, Mr. Hay," she smiled.
+
+"So I have been told," said Malcolm, as he filled a glass with tea from
+the samovar.
+
+"You have also a good opinion of yourself, it seems," she said calmly.
+
+"Why do you think I am amazing, anyway?" said he recklessly, returning
+to the relationships they had established at luncheon.
+
+"Because you have enchanted my father," she said.
+
+She was not smiling now, and a troubled little frown gathered on her
+brow.
+
+"Please tell me your magic."
+
+"Perhaps it is the book," he said jestingly.
+
+"The book!" she looked up sharply. "What book?"
+
+And then, as a light dawned on her, she rose to her feet.
+
+"You have--you have Israel Kensky's book?" she whispered in horror.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Here with you?"
+
+"Yes, here," he slapped his pocket.
+
+She sat down slowly and reached out her hand, and he thought it shook.
+
+"I do not know who was the madder--Israel Kensky to give it to you or
+you to take it," she said. "This is the only house in Kieff where your
+life is safe, and even here----" She stopped and shook her head. "Of
+course, you're safe here," she smiled, "but I wish the book were
+somewhere else."
+
+She made no further reference either to the amazing volume or to her
+father, and that night, when he came down to dinner, feeling more on
+level terms with royalty (though his dress-suit was four years old and
+his patent shoes, good enough for such mild society functions as came
+his way, looked horribly cracked and shabby), he dismissed the matter
+from his mind. The dinner party was a large one. There were two bishops,
+innumerable popes, several bejewelled women, an officer or two and the
+inevitable duenna. He was introduced to them all, but remembered only
+Colonel Malinkoff, a quiet man whom he was to meet again.
+
+To his amazement he found that he had been seated in the place of
+honour, to the right of the Grand Duke, but he derived very little
+satisfaction from that distinction, since the girl was at the other end
+of the table.
+
+She looked worried and her conversation, so far as he could hear,
+consisted of "yes" and "no" and conventional expressions of agreement
+with the views of her companions.
+
+But the duke was loquacious, and at an early stage of the dinner the
+conversation turned on the riot of the morning. There was nothing
+remarkable in the conversation till suddenly the Grand Duke, without
+preliminary, remarked in a matter-of-fact tone:
+
+"The danger is that Kensky may very well use his evil powers against the
+welfare of Holy Church."
+
+There was a murmur of agreement from the black-bearded popes, and
+Malcolm opened his eyes in astonishment.
+
+"But surely your Highness does not believe that this man has any
+supernatural gift."
+
+The Grand Duke stared at him through his glasses.
+
+"Of course," he said, "if there are miracles of the Church why should
+there not be performed miracles by the Powers of Darkness? Here in
+Kieff," he went on, "we have no reason to doubt that miracles are
+performed every day. Who doubts that worship at the shrine of St.
+Barbara in the Church of St. Michael of the Golden Head protects us
+against lightning?"
+
+"That is undoubtedly the fact, your Imperial Highness," said a stout
+pope, speaking with his mouth full. "I have seen houses with lightning
+conductors struck repeatedly, and I have never known any place to be
+touched by lightning if the master of the house was under the protection
+of St. Barbara."
+
+"And beneath the Church of Exaltation," the Grand Duke went on, "more
+miracles have been performed than elsewhere in the world."
+
+He peered round the table for contradiction.
+
+"It was here that the Two Brothers are buried and it was their prayer
+that they should sleep together in the same grave. One died before the
+other, and when the second had passed away and they carried his body to
+the tomb, did not the body of the first brother arise to make room? And
+is there not a column in the catacomb to which, if a madman is bound, he
+recovers his reason? And are there not skulls which exude wonderful oils
+which cure men of the most terrible diseases, even though they are on
+the point of death?"
+
+Malcolm drew a long breath. He could understand the superstitious
+reverence of the peasant for these relics and miracles, but these were
+educated men. One of them stood near to the throne and was versed in the
+intricacies of European diplomacy. These were no peasants steeped in
+ignorance, but intellectuals. He pinched himself to make sure that he
+was awake as the discussion grew and men swopped miracles in much the
+same spirit of emulation as store-loafers swop lies. But the
+conversation came back to him, led thereto by the Grand Duke, and once
+more it centred on that infernal book. The volume in question was not
+six inches from the Grand Duke, for Malcolm had stuffed it into his tail
+pocket before he came down to dinner, and this fact added a certain
+piquancy to the conversation.
+
+"I do not doubt, your Highness," said a stout bishop, who picked his
+teeth throughout the dinner, "that Kensky's book is identical with a
+certain volume on devil worship which the blessed Saint Basil publicly
+denounced and damned. It was a book especially inspired by Satan, and
+contained exact rules, whereby he who practised the magic could bind in
+earthly and immortal obedience the soul of anybody he chose, thus
+destroying in this life their chance of happiness and in the life to
+come their souls' salvation."
+
+All within reach of the bishop's voice crossed themselves three times.
+
+"It would have been well," mused the Grand Duke, "if the people had
+succeeded this morning."
+
+He shot a glance at Malcolm, a glance full of suspicious inquiry, but
+the young man showed no sign either of resentment or agreement. But he
+was glad when the dinner ended and the chance came to snatch a few words
+with the girl. The guests were departing early, and kummel and coffee
+was already being served on a large silver salver by the _buffetschek_,
+whom Malcolm recognized as the ubiquitous Boolba.
+
+"I shall not see you again," said the girl in a low voice. "I am going
+to my room. But I want you to promise me something, Mr. Hay."
+
+"The promise is made before you ask," said he.
+
+"I want you to leave as early as you possibly can to-morrow morning for
+your mine, and if I send you word I want you to leave Russia without
+delay."
+
+"But this is very astonishing."
+
+She faced him squarely, her hands behind her back.
+
+"Mr. Hay," she said, and her low voice was vibrant with feeling, "you
+have entangled yourself in an adventure which cannot possibly end well
+for you. Whatever happens, you cannot come out with credit and safety,
+and I would rather you came out with credit."
+
+"I don't understand you," he said.
+
+"I will make it plainer," said she. "Unless something happens in the
+next month or two which will point the minds of the people to other
+directions, you will be suspect. The fact that you have the book is
+known."
+
+"I know," he said.
+
+"By whom?" she asked quickly.
+
+"By Boolba, your servant."
+
+She raised her hand to her lips, as if to suppress a cry. It was an odd
+little trick of hers which he had noticed before.
+
+"Boolba," she repeated. "Of course! That explains!"
+
+At that moment the Grand Duke called him. The guests had dwindled away
+to half a dozen.
+
+"Your coffee, Mr. Hay, and some of our wonderful Russian kummel. You
+will not find its like in any other part of the world."
+
+Malcolm drank the coffee, gulped down the fiery liqueur, and replaced
+the glass on the tray. He did not see the girl again, and half an hour
+later he went up to his room, locked the door and undressed himself
+slowly, declining the assistance which had been offered to him by the
+trained valet.
+
+From the open window came the heavy perfume of heliotrope, but it was
+neither the garden scent nor the moderate quantity of wine he had taken,
+nor the languid beauty of the night, which produced this delicious
+sensation of weariness. He undressed and got into his pyjamas, then sat
+at the end of his bed, his head between his hands.
+
+He had sat for a long time like this, before he realized the strangeness
+of his attitude and getting on to his feet, found himself swaying.
+
+"Doped," he said, and sat down again.
+
+There was little of his brain that was awake, but that little he worked
+hard. He had been drugged. It was either in the kummel or in the coffee.
+Nothing but dope would make him feel as he was feeling now. He fell into
+bed and pulled the clothes about him. He wanted to keep awake to fight
+off the effects of the stuff and, by an absurd perversion of reasoning,
+he argued that he was in a more favourable position to carry out his
+plan if he made himself comfortable in bed, than if he followed any
+other course.
+
+The drug worked slowly and erratically. He had moments of complete
+unconsciousness with intervals which, if they were not free from the
+effect of the agent, were at least lucid. One such interval must have
+come after he had been in bed for about an hour, for he found himself
+wide awake and lay listening to the thumping of his heart, which seemed
+to shake the bed.
+
+The room was bathed in a soft green light, for it was a night of full
+moon. He could see dimly the furniture and the subdued gleam of silver
+wall-sconce, that caught the ghostly light and gave it a more mysterious
+value. He tried to rise but could not. To roll his head from side to
+side seemed the limitation of conscious effort.
+
+And whilst he looked, the door opened noiselessly and closed again.
+Somebody had come into the room, and that somebody passed softly across
+the foot of the bed, and stood revealed against the window. Had he been
+capable of speech he would have cried out.
+
+It was the girl!
+
+He saw her plainly in a moment. She wore a wrapper over her nightdress,
+and carried a small electric lamp in her hand. She went to the chair
+where he had thrown his clothes and made a search. He saw her take
+something out and put it under her wrap, then she went back the way she
+came, pausing for the space of a second at the foot of his bed.
+
+She stood there undecidedly, and presently she came up to the side of
+the bed and bent down over him. His eyes were half closed; he had
+neither the power of opening or shutting them, but he could see clearly
+the white hand that rested on the bed and the book that it held, and the
+polished table by the bedside reflecting the moonlight back to her face
+so that she seemed something as intangible and as shadowy as the night
+itself.
+
+A little smile played upon her pale face, and every whispered word she
+uttered was clear and distinct.
+
+"Good-bye, poor Mr. Hay," she said softly.
+
+She shook her head as though in pity; then, stopping swiftly, she kissed
+him on the cheek and passed quickly to the half-open door by which she
+had entered. She was nearing the door when she stopped dead and shrank
+back toward the bed. Another electric lamp gleamed unexpectedly. He saw
+the white of her nightdress show as a dazzling strip of light where the
+beam caught it. Then the unknown intruder touched on the light, and they
+stood revealed, the girl tall, imperious, a look of scorn on her
+beautiful face, and the stout menial with the crooked nose.
+
+Boolba wore an old dressing-gown girdled about with a soiled rainbow
+sash. His feet were bare, and in his two hands laying from palm to palm
+was a long thin knife.
+
+At the sight of the girl he fell back, a grotesque sprawling movement
+which was not without its comicality. A look of blank bewilderment
+creased his big face.
+
+"You--you, Highness!" he croaked. "The Jew, where is he?"
+
+She was silent. Malcolm saw the quick rise and fall of her bosom, saw
+the book clutched closer to her side beneath the filmy silken gown.
+
+Boolba looked from the girl to Malcolm, from Malcolm to the heavy
+curtains at either side of the open window--curtains which the drugged
+man had not drawn.
+
+"He has left his quarters, Highness," Boolba spoke eagerly; "he was seen
+to enter the grounds of the palace--where is he?"
+
+He took a step toward her.
+
+"Stand back--you slave!" she breathed, but with a bound he was upon her.
+There was a brief struggle, and the book was wrenched from her hand.
+
+Malcolm saw all this, but lay as one dead. He was conscious but
+paralysed by the potion, and could only watch the girl in the grip of
+the obese monster and feel his heart going like a steam hammer.
+
+Boolba stood gloating over his prize, fondling the book in his big,
+coarse hands. Malcolm wondered why the girl did not scream--yet how
+could she? She was in his room in the middle of the night, she, a
+daughter of emperors.
+
+The man tried to wrench open the locks which held the covers, but
+failed. Suddenly he looked up, and glared across at the girl.
+
+He said nothing, but the suspicion in that scowl was emphasized when he
+moved to the wall near the window and the light of a bracket lamp.
+
+Again he examined the book and for the first time spoke:
+
+"Oh, Highness, was it you who sent for Israel Kensky that the book
+should be restored----"
+
+So far he got when an arm came from behind the curtain--a hand
+blue-veined, and it held a yellow handkerchief.
+
+The girl saw it, and her hand went to her mouth.
+
+Then the handkerchief struck full across Boolba's face, covering it from
+forehead to the mouth.
+
+For a moment the man was paralysed, then he pulled the handkerchief away
+and clawed at the clay-like substance which adhered to his face.
+
+"Mother of God!"
+
+He screamed the words and, dropping the book, stumbled forward, rubbing
+at his face, shrieking with pain.
+
+The girl ran swiftly through the open door, for feet were now pattering
+along the corridors and the flicker of lights showed through the
+doorway. Boolba was rolling on the ground in agony when the servants
+crowded in, followed by the Grand Duke--and he alone was fully dressed.
+
+"Boolba--what is it?"
+
+"The book--the book! It is mine! See ... floor!"
+
+But the book had disappeared.
+
+"Where, Boolba--where, my good Boolba?" The voice of Boolba's master was
+tremulous. "Show me--did he strike you--he shall suffer, by the saints!
+Look for it, Boolba!"
+
+"Look! Look!" yelled the writhing man. "How shall I look? I who am
+blind--blind--blind!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+TERROR IN MAKING
+
+
+In the spring of 1919 Malcolm Hay came out from the Kursky Voksal
+carrying his own well-worn valise. An indifferent cigar was clenched
+between his white teeth, and there was a sparkle of amusement in his
+grave eyes. He stood seventy inches in his stockings, and an excellent
+judge of men who looked him over, noted the set and width of shoulders,
+the upward lift of chin, the tanned face and flexibility of body, marked
+him down "soldier"--either American or English.
+
+Malcolm looked up and down the deserted street and then caught the eye
+of the solitary _intooski_, a thoughtful-looking man with a short,
+square beard, looking monstrously stout in his padded green coat, the
+livery of the Moscow drosky driver.
+
+The man on the sidewalk smiled and walked across the pavement.
+
+"Little brother," he said in fluent Russian, "would you condescend to
+drive me to the Hotel du Bazar Slav?"
+
+The driver who had noted so approvingly the shape of Malcolm's
+shoulders did not immediately answer; then:
+
+"British?--I thought you were."
+
+He spoke excellent English, and Malcolm looked up at him bewildered.
+
+"I seem to know your face, too--let me think."
+
+The cab-driver tapped his bearded chin.
+
+"I have it--Hay. I met you four years ago at a dinner party in
+Kieff--you are the manager of an oil company or something of the sort."
+
+"Right," said the astonished young man, "but--I don't exactly place
+you."
+
+The drosky driver smiled.
+
+"And yet I dined with you," he said. "I sat next the Grand Duchess
+Irene--later, when war broke out, I invited you to my headquarters."
+
+"Good God!" Malcolm's jaw dropped. "General Malinkoff!"
+
+"Commanding the 84th Caucasian Division," said the bearded man dryly,
+"and now commanding one little horse. If you will get into my excellent
+cab I will drive you to a restaurant where we may eat and drink and be
+almost merry for--fifty roubles."
+
+Malcolm stepped into the little drosky like a man in a dream. Malinkoff!
+He remembered him, a fine figure on a horse, riding through Kieff at
+the head of a glittering throng of staff officers. There was a function
+at the Grand Hotel to meet the new Commander, a great parade at that
+ancient palace in his honour--Malcolm had come in from the oil-fields
+partly to meet him at dinner--partly for news of one who had of a sudden
+vanished from his life.
+
+The drosky drove furiously through the east end of the town, and the
+passenger noted that the driver was careful to avoid the big
+thoroughfares which led to the Krasnaya Plotzad and that centre of
+Moscow which is the Kremlin.
+
+Presently it drew up before a small eating-house in a poor street, and
+the driver hoisted himself to the ground. He left his horse unattended
+and, leading the way, pushed open the swing doors of the restaurant and
+passed down a long, low-ceilinged room crowded with diners, to a table
+at the far end.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Hay. I can promise you a fair but by no means sybarite
+feast--good morning, Nicholas Vassilitsky."
+
+He nodded pleasantly to a grey-haired man in a workman's blouse sitting
+at the next table, and the man addressed rose stiffly, bowed and sat
+down.
+
+"If you wish your clothes valeted whilst you are in Moscow, I recommend
+my friend," said the driver, snapping his fingers towards a stout
+waitress. "Colonel Nicholas Vassilitsky is not only an excellent
+Director of Military Intelligence but he can press a pair of trousers
+with any man."
+
+He gave his orders briefly, and turned to his companion.
+
+"First of all, let me interrogate you. You are on your way to
+Petrograd?"
+
+"Yes--I am on my way home. During the war I have been controlling allied
+supplies in Little Russia--the Revolution stopped that."
+
+"Fortunate man--to have a country," said General Malinkoff, and he spoke
+seriously and without bitterness. "A country and an army--coherent,
+disciplined comrades in arms."
+
+He shrugged his padded shoulders.
+
+"Yes--you are on your way to your home? It will take you months to leave
+the country--if you ever leave it. I tried to leave last month. I am a
+reactionary with a leaning toward discipline. I cannot breathe the air
+of democracy. I used to think I had Liberal ideas. There was a time when
+I thought that a day would dawn when the world would be a great United
+States of Free People. Ah, well--I am still a reactionary."
+
+Malcolm knew that behind those grave eyes was a world of laughter, that
+beneath the solemn words was a gentle irony, and yet for the while he
+could not distinguish how much of tragedy there was in the man's fun.
+
+"But why are you----"
+
+"Driving a cab?" The general finished the sentence. "Because, my friend,
+I am human. I must eat, for example; I must have a room to sleep in. I
+need cigarettes, and clean shirts at least three times a week--for God's
+sake never let that be known. I must also have warm clothes for the
+winter--in fact, I must live."
+
+"But haven't you--money?" Malcolm felt all a decent man's embarrassment.
+"Forgive me butting into your affairs, but naturally I'm rather hazed."
+
+"Naturally," laughed the general. "A bottle of kavass, my peach of
+Turkistan, and a glass for our comrade."
+
+"Long live the Revolution!" wheezed the waitress mechanically.
+
+"Long may it live, little mother!" responded the general.
+
+When the girl had gone he squared round to his companion.
+
+"I have no shame, Mr. Hay--I'm going to let you pay for your own dinner
+because I cannot in these democratic times pauperize you by paying for
+you. No, I have no money. My balance in the State bank has been
+confiscated to the sacred cause of the people. My estate, a hundred
+versts or so from Moscow, confiscated to the sacred cause of the
+Revolution, my house in Petrograd is commandeered to the sacred service
+of the Soviet."
+
+"But your command?"
+
+The general did not smile now. He laid down his knife and fork and threw
+a glance behind him.
+
+"The men began shooting their officers in March, 1917," he said,
+lowering his voice. "They executed the divisional staff in May--the
+democratic spirit was of slow growth. They spared me because I had
+written a book in my youth urging popular government and had been
+confined in the fortess of Vilna for my crime. When the army was
+disbanded I came to Moscow, and the cab was given to me by a former
+groom of mine, one Isaac Mosservitch, who is now a judge of the high
+court and dispenses pretty good law, though he cannot sign his own
+name."
+
+"Mr. Hay," he went on earnestly, "you did wrong to come to Moscow. Get
+back to Kieff and strike down into the Caucasus. You can reach the
+American posts outside of Tiflis. You'll never leave Russia. The
+Bolsheviks have gone mad--blood-mad, murder-mad. Every foreigner is
+suspect. The Americans and the English are being arrested. I can get you
+a passport that will carry you to Odessa, and you can reach Batoum, and
+Baku from there."
+
+Malcolm leant back in his chair and looked thoughtfully at the other.
+
+"Is it so bad?"
+
+"Bad! Moscow is a mad-house. Listen--do you hear anything?"
+
+Above the hum of conversation Malcolm caught a sound like the cracking
+of whips.
+
+"Rifle-firing," said the general calmly. "There's a counter-revolution
+in progress. The advanced Anarchists are in revolt against the
+Bolsheviks. There is a counter-revolution every morning. We cab-drivers
+meet after breakfast each day and decide amongst ourselves which of the
+streets shall be avoided. We are pretty well informed--Prince
+Dalgoursky, who was a captain in the Preopojensky Guard, sells
+newspapers outside the Soviet headquarters, and the comrades give him
+tips. One of these days the comrades will shoot him, but for the moment
+he is in favour, and makes as much as a hundred roubles a day."
+
+The waitress came to the table, and the conversation momentarily ceased.
+When she had gone Malcolm put the question which he had asked so often
+in the past four years.
+
+"Can you give me any news of the Grand Duke Yaroslav?"
+
+The other shook his head.
+
+"His Highness was in Petrograd when I heard of him last."
+
+"And--and his daughter? She has been with the Russian Red Cross on the
+Riga front, I know."
+
+The bearded man shot a queer glance at his companion.
+
+"In what circumstances did you see her last?" he asked.
+
+Malcolm hesitated.
+
+He could hardly tell a stranger of that tragic scene which was enacted
+in his bedroom. From the moment she had fled through the door he had not
+set eyes upon her. In the morning when he had wakened, feeling sick and
+ill, he had been told that the Grand Duke and his daughter had left by
+the early northern express for the capital. Of Boolba, that hideously
+blinded figure, he heard nothing. When he inquired for Israel Kensky,
+men shrugged and said that he had "disappeared." His house was closed
+and the old man might be in prison or in hiding. Later he was to learn
+that Kensky had reappeared in Moscow, apparently without hindrance from
+the authorities. As for Boolba, he had kept his counsel.
+
+"You seem embarrassed," smiled Malinkoff. "I will tell you why I ask.
+You know that her Grand Ducal Highness was banished from Court for
+disobedience to the royal will?"
+
+Malcolm shook his head.
+
+"I know nothing--absolutely nothing. Kieff and Odessa are full of
+refugees and rumours, but one is as much a suspect as the other."
+
+"She would not marry--that is all. I forget the name of the exalted
+personage who was chosen for her, though I once helped to carry him up
+to bed--he drank heavily even in those days. God rest him! He died like
+a man. They hung him in a sack in Peter and Paul, and he insulted the
+Soviets to the last!"
+
+"So--so she is not married?"
+
+The general was silent, beckoning the waitress.
+
+"My little dear," he said, "what shall I pay you?"
+
+She gave him the scores and they settled.
+
+"Which way now?" asked the general.
+
+"I hardly know--what must a stranger do before he takes up his abode?"
+
+"First find an abode," said the general with a meaning smile. "You asked
+me to drive you to the Hotel Bazar Slav, my simple but misguided friend!
+That is a Soviet headquarters. You will certainly go to a place adjacent
+to the hotel to register yourself, and afterwards to the Commissary to
+register all over again, and, if you are regarded with approval, which
+is hardly likely, you will be given a ticket which will enable you to
+secure the necessities of life--the tickets are easier to get than the
+food."
+
+The first call at the house near the Bazar Slav gave them neither
+trouble nor results. The Soviet headquarters was mainly concerned with
+purely administrative affairs, and the organization of its membership.
+Its corridors and doorway were crowded with soldiers wearing the
+familiar red armlet, and when Malinkoff secured an interview with a
+weary looking and unkempt official, who sat collarless in his shirt
+sleeves at a table covered with papers, that gentleman could do no more
+than lean back in his chair and curse the interrupters volubly.
+
+"We might have dispensed with the headquarters visit," said Malinkoff,
+"but it is absolutely necessary that you should see the Commissary
+unless you want to be pulled out of your bed one night and shot before
+you're thoroughly awake. By the way, we have an interesting American in
+gaol--by his description I gather he is what you would call a gun-man."
+
+Malcolm stared.
+
+"Here--a gun-man?"
+
+Malinkoff nodded.
+
+"He held up the Treasurer-General of the Soviet and relieved him of his
+wealth. I would like to have met him--but I presume he is dead. Justice
+is swift in Moscow, especially for those who hold up the officials of
+the Revolution."
+
+"What sort of justice do these people administer?" asked Malcolm
+curiously.
+
+Malinkoff shrugged his padded shoulders.
+
+"Sometimes I think that the very habit of justice is dead in this land,"
+he said. "On the whole they are about as just and fair as was the old
+regime--that is not saying much, is it? The cruelty of our rule to-day
+is due rather to ignorance than to ill will. A few of the men higher up
+are working off their old grievances and are profiting enormously, but
+the rank and file of the movement are labouring for the millennium."
+
+"I think they're mad," said Malcolm.
+
+"All injustice is mad," replied Malinkoff philosophically. "Now get into
+my little cab, and I will drive you to the Commissary."
+
+The Commissary occupied a large house near the Igerian Gate. It was a
+house of such noble proportions that at first Malcolm thought it was one
+of the old public offices, and when Malinkoff had drawn up at the gate
+he put the question.
+
+"That is the house of the Grand Duke Yaroslav," said Malinkoff quietly.
+"I think you were inquiring about him a little earlier in the day."
+
+The name brought a little pang to Malcolm's heart, and he asked no
+further questions. There was a sentry on the _podyasde_--an untidy,
+unshaven man, smoking a cigarette--and a group of soldiers filled the
+entrance, evidently the remainder of the guard.
+
+The Commissary was out. When would he be back? Only God knew. He had
+taken "the Little Mother" for a drive in the country, or perhaps he had
+gone to Petrograd--who knew? There was nobody to see but the
+Commissary--on this fact they insisted with such vehemence that Malcolm
+gathered that whoever the gentleman was, he brooked no rivals and
+allowed no possible supplanter to stand near his throne.
+
+They came back at four o'clock in the afternoon, but the Commissary was
+still out. It was nine o'clock, after five inquiries, that the sentry
+replied "Yes" to the inevitable question.
+
+"Now you will see him," said Malinkoff, "and the future depends upon the
+potency of your favourite patron saint."
+
+Malcolm stopped in the doorway.
+
+"General----" he said.
+
+"Not that word," said Malinkoff quickly. "Citizen or comrade--comrade
+for preference."
+
+"I feel that I am leading you into danger--I have been horribly selfish
+and thoughtless. Will it make any difference to you, your seeing him?"
+
+Malinkoff shook his head.
+
+"You're quite right, it is always dangerous to attract the attention of
+the Committee for Combatting the Counter-Revolution," he said, "but
+since I have taken you in hand I might as well see him as stay outside
+on my cab, because he is certain to inquire who brought you here, and it
+might look suspicious if I did not come in with you. Besides, somebody
+will have to vouch for you as a good comrade and friend of the Soviet."
+
+He was half in earnest and half joking, but wholly fatalistic.
+
+As they went up the broad spiral staircase which led to the main floor
+of the Yaroslav Palace, Malcolm had qualms. He heartily cursed himself
+for bringing this man into danger. So far as he was concerned, as he
+told himself, there was no risk at all, because he was a British
+traveller, having no feeling one way or the other toward the Soviet
+Government. But Malinkoff would be a marked man, under suspicion all the
+time. Before the office of the Commissary was a sentry without rifle. He
+sat at a table which completely blocked the doorway, except for about
+eight inches at one side. He inquired the business of the visitors, took
+their names and handed them to a soldier, and with a sideways jerk of
+his head invited them to squeeze past him into the bureau.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE COMMISSARY WITH THE CROOKED NOSE
+
+
+There were a dozen men in the room in stained military overcoats and red
+armlets. One, evidently an officer, who carried a black portfolio under
+his arm, was leaning against the panelled wall, smoking and snapping his
+fingers to a dingy white terrier that leapt to his repeated invitations.
+
+At the table, covered with documents, were two people, the man and the
+woman.
+
+She, sprawling indolently forward, her head upon her arm, her strong
+brown face turned to the man, was obviously a Jewess. The papers were
+streaked and greasy where her thick black ringlets had rested, and the
+ashes of her cigarette lay in little untidy heaps on the table.
+
+The man was burly, with a great breadth of shoulder and big rough hands.
+But it was his face which arrested the feet of Malcolm and brought him
+to a sudden halt the moment he came near enough to see and recognize the
+Commissary.
+
+It was not by his bushy red beard nor the stiff, upstanding hair, but
+by the crooked nose, that he recognized Boolba, sometime serving-man to
+the Grand Duke Yaroslav. Malcolm, looking at the sightless eyes, felt
+his spine go creepy.
+
+Boolba lifted his head sharply at the sound of an unfamiliar footfall.
+
+"Who is this?" he asked. "Sophia Kensky, you who are my eyes, tell me
+who is this?"
+
+"Oh, a boorjoo," said the woman lazily.
+
+"A foreigner too--who are you, boorjoo?"
+
+"A Britisher," said Malcolm.
+
+Boolba lifted his chin and turned his face at the voice.
+
+"A Britisher," he repeated slowly. "The man on the oil-fields. Tell me
+your name."
+
+"Hay--Malcolm Hay," said Malcolm, and Boolba nodded.
+
+His face was like a mask and he expressed no emotion.
+
+"And the other?"
+
+"Malinkoff!" snapped the voice at Malcolm's side, and Boolba nodded.
+
+"Commanding an army--I remember. You drive a cab, comrade. Are there any
+complaints against this man?"
+
+He turned his face to Sophia Kensky, and she shook her head.
+
+"Are there any complaints against this man, Sophia?" he repeated.
+
+"None that I know. He is an aristocrat and a friend of the Romanoffs."
+
+"Huh!" The grunt sounded like a note of disappointment. "What do you
+want?"
+
+"The stranger wishes permission to remain in Moscow until he can find a
+train to the north," said Malinkoff.
+
+Boolba made no reply. He sat there, his elbows on the table, his fingers
+twining and untwining the thick red hair of his beard.
+
+"Where does he sleep to-night?" he asked after awhile.
+
+"He sleeps in my stable, near the Vassalli Prospekt," said Malinkoff.
+
+Boolba turned to the woman, who was lighting a new cigarette from the
+end of the old one, and said something in a low, growling tone.
+
+"Do as you wish, my little pigeon," she said audibly.
+
+Again his hand went to his beard and his big mouth opened in meditation.
+Then he said curtly:
+
+"Sit down."
+
+There was no place to sit, and the two men fell back amongst the
+soldiers.
+
+Again the two at the table consulted, and then Sophia Kensky called a
+name. The man in a faded officer's uniform came forward, his big black
+portfolio in his hand, and this he laid on the table, opening the flap
+and taking out a sheaf of papers.
+
+"Read them to me, Sophia," said Boolba. "Read their names."
+
+He groped about on the table and found first a rubber stamp and then a
+small, flat ink-pad. Sophia lifted the first of the papers and spelt out
+the names.
+
+"Mishka Sasanoff," she said, and the man growled.
+
+"An upstart woman and very ugly," he said. "I remember her. She used to
+whip her servants. Tell me, Sophia, my life, what has she done now?"
+
+"Plotted to destroy the Revolution," said the woman.
+
+"Huh!" grunted the man, as he brought his rubber stamp to the paper,
+passing it across to the waiting officer, who replaced it in his
+portfolio. "And the next?"
+
+"Paul Geslkin," she said and passed the document to him. "Plotting to
+overthrow the Revolution."
+
+"A boorjoo, a tricky young man, in league with the priests," he said,
+and again his stamp came down upon the paper, and again the paper went
+across the table into the portfolio of the officer.
+
+The soldiers about Malcolm and his friend had edged away, and they were
+alone.
+
+"What are these?" whispered Malcolm.
+
+"Death warrants," replied Malinkoff laconically, and for the second time
+a cold chill ran down Malcolm's spine.
+
+Name after name were read out, and the little rubber stamp, which
+carried death to one and sorrow to so many, thudded down upon the paper.
+Malcolm felt physically ill. The room was close and reeked of vile
+tobacco fumes. There was no ventilation, and the oil lamps made the
+apartment insufferably hot. An hour, two hours passed, and no further
+notice was paid to the two men.
+
+"I can't understand it quite," said Malinkoff in a low voice.
+"Ordinarily this would mean serious trouble, but if the Commissary had
+any suspicion of you or me, we should have been in prison an hour ago."
+
+Then suddenly Boolba rose.
+
+"What is the hour?" he said.
+
+A dozen voices replied.
+
+"Half-past ten? It is time that the sweeper was here."
+
+He threw back his head and laughed, and the men joined in the laughter.
+With a great yellow handkerchief, which reminded Malcolm of something
+particularly unpleasant, Boolba wiped the streams from his sightless
+eyes and bent down to the woman at his side, and Malcolm heard him say:
+"What is his name--he told me," and then he stood up.
+
+"Hay," he said, "you are a boorjoo. You have ordered many men to sweep
+your room. Is it not good that a house should be clean, eh?"
+
+"Very good, Boolba," said Malcolm quietly.
+
+"Boolba he calls me. He remembers well. That is good! I stood behind
+him, comrades, giving wine and coffee and bowing to this great English
+lord! Yes, I, Boolba!" he struck his chest, "crawled on my knees to this
+man, and he calls me Boolba now--Boolba!" he roared ferociously. "Come
+here! Do this! Clean my boots, Boolba! Come, little Boolba, bow thy neck
+that I may rest my foot!"
+
+A voice from the door interrupted him.
+
+"Good!" he said. "My sweeper has arrived, Hay. Once a day she sweeps my
+room and once a day she makes my bed. No ordinary woman will satisfy
+Boolba. She must come in her furs, drive in her fine carriage from the
+Nijitnkaya--behold!"
+
+Malcolm looked to the doorway and was struck dumb with amazement.
+
+The girl who came in was dressed better than he expected any woman to
+be dressed in Moscow. A sable wrap was about her shoulders, a sable
+toque was on her head. He could not see the worn shoes nor the shabby
+dress beneath the costly furs; indeed, he saw nothing but the face--the
+face of his dreams--unchanged, unlined, more beautiful than he had
+remembered her. She stood stiffly in her pride, her little chin held up,
+her contemptuous eyes fixed upon the man at the table. Then loosing her
+wrap, she hung it upon a peg, and opening a cupboard, took out a broad
+broom.
+
+"Sweep, Irene Yaroslav," said the man.
+
+Malcolm winced at the word, and Malinkoff turned to him sharply.
+
+"You know her?" he said. "Of course you do--I remember. Was that why
+Boolba kept us waiting?"
+
+"He was butler in the Yaroslav household," said Malcolm in the same
+tone.
+
+"That explains it," said Malinkoff. "All this is for the humiliation of
+the Grand Duchess."
+
+"Sweep well, little one," scoffed Boolba from his table. "Does it not do
+your heart good, Sophia Kensky? Oh, if I had only eyes to see! Does she
+go on her knees? Tell me, Sophia."
+
+But the woman found no amusement in the sight, and she was not smiling.
+Her high forehead was knitted, her dark eyes followed every movement of
+the girl. As Boolba finished speaking she leant forward and demanded
+harshly:
+
+"Irene Yaroslav, where is Israel Kensky?"
+
+"I do not know," replied the girl, not taking her eyes from her work.
+
+"You lie," said the woman. "You shall tell me where he is and where he
+has hidden his 'Book of All-Power.' She knows, Boolba."
+
+"Peace, peace!" he said, laying his big hand on her shoulder. "Presently
+she will tell and be glad to tell. Where is your father, Irene
+Yaroslav?"
+
+"You know best," she replied, and the answer seemed to afford him
+amusement.
+
+"He was a religious man," he scoffed. "Did he not believe in miracles?
+Was there any saint in Kieff he did not patronize? He is with the saints
+this day," and then, in a fierce whisper to Sophia--"How did she look?
+Tell me, Sophia. How did she look when I spoke?"
+
+"He died three weeks ago," said Irene quietly, "at the Fortress of Peter
+and Paul," and Boolba rapped out an oath.
+
+"Who told you? Who told you?" he roared. "Tell me who told you, and I
+will have his heart out of him! I wanted to tell you that myself!"
+
+"The High Commissary Boyaski," she replied, and Boolba swallowed his
+rage, for who dared criticize the High Commissaries, who hold power of
+life and death in their hands, even over their fellow officials? He sank
+down in his chair again and turned impatiently to Sophia.
+
+"Have you no tongue in your head, Sophia Kensky!" he asked irritably.
+"Tell me all she does. How is she sweeping--where?"
+
+"By the men, near the big bookcase," said the woman reluctantly.
+
+"Yes, yes," and he nodded his great head.
+
+He rose, walked round the table, and paced slowly to the girl as she
+stood quietly waiting. Malcolm had no weapon in his pocket. He had been
+warned by Malinkoff that visitors were searched. But on the table lay a
+sheathed sword--possibly the mark of authority which Boolba carried. But
+evidently this ceremony was a nightly occurrence. Boolba did no more
+than pass his hand over the girl's face.
+
+"She is cool," he said in a disappointed tone. "You do not work hard
+enough, Irene Yaroslav. To-morrow you shall come with water and shall
+scrub this room."
+
+The girl made no reply, but as he walked back to his seat of authority
+she continued her work, her eyes fixed on the floor, oblivious of her
+surroundings. Presently she worked round the room until she came to
+where Malcolm stood, and as she did so for the first time she raised her
+head, and her eyes met his. Again he saw that little trick of hers; her
+hand went to her mouth, then her head went down, and she passed on as
+though she had never seen him.
+
+"What did she do, Sophia? Tell me what she did when she came to the
+Englishman. Did she not see him?"
+
+"She was startled," grumbled Sophia; "that is all. Boolba, let the woman
+go."
+
+"Nay, nay, my little pigeon, she must finish her work."
+
+"She has finished," said Sophia impatiently; "how long must this go on,
+Boolba? Is she not an aristocrat and a Romanoff, and are there none of
+your men who want wives?"
+
+Malcolm felt rather than saw the head of every soldier in the room lift
+to these words.
+
+"Wait a little," said Boolba. "You forget the book, my little
+pigeon--the 'Book of All-Power.' I would have that rather than that
+Irene Yaroslav found a good husband from our comrades. You may go, Irene
+Yaroslav," he said. "Serge!"
+
+The officer who had taken the death warrants, and who stood waiting for
+dismissal, came forward.
+
+"Take our little brother Malinkoff and the Britisher Hay and place them
+both in the prison of St. Basil. They are proved enemies to the
+Revolution."
+
+"I wonder who will feed my little horse to-night," said Malinkoff as,
+handcuffed to his companion, he marched through the streets in the light
+of dawn, en route, as he believed, to certain death.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+IN THE PRISON OF ST. BASIL
+
+
+The temporary prison called by Boolba "St. Basil," was made up of four
+blocks of buildings. All save one were built of grey granite, and
+presented, when seen from the courtyard below, tiers of little windows
+set with monotonous regularity in discoloured walls. The fourth was
+evidently also of granite, but at some recent period an attempt had been
+made to cover its forbidding facade with plaster. The workmen had
+wearied of their good intent and had left off when their labours were
+half finished, which gave the building the gruesome appearance of having
+been half skinned. Flush with the four sides of the square was an open
+concrete trench, approached at intervals by flights of half a dozen
+stone steps leading to this alley-way.
+
+Malcolm Hay was pushed down one of these, hurried along the alley-way,
+passing a number of mailed iron doors, and as many barred windows, and
+was halted before one of the doors whilst the warder who all the time
+smoked a cigar, produced a key. The door was unlocked, and Hay was
+thrust in. Malinkoff followed. The door slammed behind them, and they
+heard the "click-clock" of the steel lock shooting to its socket.
+
+The room was a medium-sized apartment, innocent of furniture save for a
+table in the centre of the room and a bench which ran round the walls.
+Light came from a small window giving a restricted view of the courtyard
+and a barred transom above the doorway. An oblong slit of ground glass
+behind which was evidently an electric globe served for the night.
+
+There were two occupants of the room, who looked up, one--a grimy,
+dishevelled priest--blankly, the other with the light of interest in his
+eyes.
+
+He sat in his shirt-sleeves, his coat being rolled up to serve as a
+pillow. Above the "bed" hung a Derby hat--an incongruous object. He was
+short, stout, and fresh coloured, with a startling black moustache
+elaborately curled at the ends and two grey eyes that were lined around
+with much laughter. He walked slowly to the party and held out his hand
+to Malcolm.
+
+"Welcome to the original Bughouse," he said, and from his accent it was
+impossible to discover whether he was American or English. "On behalf of
+self an' partner, we welcome you to Bughouse Lodge. When do you go to
+the chair--he's due to-day," he jerked his thumb at the crooning priest.
+"I can't say I'm sorry. So far as I am concerned he's been dead ever
+since they put him here."
+
+Malcolm recognized the little man in a flash. It was his acquaintance of
+London.
+
+"You don't remember me," smiled Malcolm, "but what is your particular
+crime?"
+
+The little man's face creased with laughter.
+
+"Shootin' up Tcherekin," he said tersely, and Malinkoff's eyebrows rose.
+
+"You're--Beem--is that how you pronounce it?"
+
+"Bim," said the other, "B-I-M. Christian name Cherry--Cherry Bim; see
+the idea? Named after the angels. Say, when I was a kid--I've got a
+photograph way home in Brooklyn to prove it--I had golden hair in long
+ringlets!"
+
+Malinkoff chuckled softly.
+
+"This is the American who held up Tcherekin and nearly got away with ten
+million roubles," he said.
+
+Cherry Bim had taken down his Derby and had adjusted it at the angle
+demanded by the circumstances.
+
+"That's right--but I didn't know they was roubles. I _should_ excite my
+mentality over waste paper! No, we got word that it was French money."
+
+"There was another man in it?" said Malinkoff, lighting a
+cigarette--there had been no attempt to search them.
+
+"Don't let that match go out!" begged Cherry Bim, and dug a stub from
+his waistcoat pocket. "Yes," he puffed, "Isaac Moskava--they killed poor
+old Issy. He was a good feller, but too--too--what's the word when a
+feller falls to every dame he meets?"
+
+"Impressionable?" suggested Malcolm.
+
+"That's the word," nodded Cherry Bim; "we'd got away with twenty
+thousand dollars' worth of real sparklers in Petrograd. They used to
+belong to a princess, and we took 'em off the lady friends of Groobal,
+the Food Commissioner, and I suggested we should beat it across the
+Swedish frontier. But no, he had a girl in Moscow--he was that kind of
+guy who could smell patchouli a million miles away."
+
+Malcolm gazed at the man in wonderment.
+
+"Do I understand that you are a--a----" He hesitated to describe his
+companion in misfortune, realizing that it was a very delicate position.
+
+"I'm a cavalier of industry," said Cherry Bim, with a flourish.
+
+"Chevalier is the word you want," suggested Malcolm, responding to his
+geniality.
+
+"It's all one," said the other cheerfully. "It means crook, I guess?
+Don't think," he said seriously, "don't you think that I'm one of those
+cheap gun-men you can buy for ten dollars, because I'm not. It was the
+love of guns that brought me into trouble. It wasn't trouble that
+brought me to the guns. I could use a gun when I was seven," he said.
+"My dad--God love him!--lived in Utah, and I was born at Broke Creek and
+cut my teeth on a '45. I could shoot the tail-feathers off a fly's
+wing," he said. "I could shoot the nose off a mosquito."
+
+It was the deceased Isaac Moskava who had brought him to Russia, he
+said. They had been fellow fugitives to Canada, and Isaac, who had
+friends in a dozen Soviets, had painted an entrancing picture of the
+pickings which were to be had in Petrograd. They worked their way across
+Canada and shipped on a Swedish barque, working their passage before the
+mast. At Stockholm Issy had found a friend, who forwarded them carriage
+paid to the capital, whereafter things went well.
+
+"Have you got any food?" asked Cherry Bim suddenly. "They starve you
+here. Did you ever eat _schie_? It's hot water smelling of cabbage."
+
+"Have you been tried?" asked Malinkoff, and the man smiled.
+
+"Tried!" he said contemptuously. "Say, what do you think's goin' to
+happen to you? Do you think you'll go up before a judge and hire a
+lawyer to defend you? Not much. If they try you, it's because they've
+got something funny to tell you. Look here."
+
+He leapt up on to the bench with surprising agility and stood on tiptoe,
+so that his eyes came level with a little grating in the wall. The
+opening gave a view of another cell.
+
+"Look," said Cherry Bim, stepping aside, and Malcolm peered through the
+opening.
+
+At first he could see nothing, for the cell was darker than the room he
+was in, but presently he distinguished a huddled form lying on the
+bench, and even as he looked it was galvanized to life. It was an old
+man who had leaped from the bench mumbling and mouthing in his terror.
+
+"I am awake! I am awake!" he screamed in Russian. "_Gospodar_, observe
+me! I am awake!"
+
+His wild yells shrunk to a shrill sobbing, and then, with a long sigh,
+he climbed back to the bench and turned his back to the wall. Malcolm
+exchanged glances with Malinkoff, who had shared the view.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"Come down and I'll tell you. Don't let the old man hear you speak--he's
+frightened."
+
+"What did he say?" he asked curiously.
+
+Malcolm repeated the words, and Cherry Bim nodded.
+
+"I see. I thought they were stuffing me when they told me, but it's
+evidently true. He's a Jew," he went on. "Do you think them guys don't
+kill Jews? Don't you make any mistake about that--they'll kill anybody.
+This old man has a daughter or a granddaughter, and one of the comrades
+got fresh with him, so poor old Moses--I don't know his name but he
+looks like the picture of Moses that we had in our Bible at home--shot
+at this fellow and broke his jaw, so they sent him to be killed in his
+sleep."
+
+"In his sleep?" repeated Malcolm incredulously, and Cherry Bim nodded.
+
+"That's it," he said. "So long as he's awake they won't kill him--at
+least they say so. I guess when his time comes they'll settle him,
+asleep or awake. The poor old guy thinks that so long as he's awake he's
+safe--do you get me?"
+
+"It's hellish!" said Malcolm between his teeth. "They must be devils."
+
+"Oh, no, they're not," said Cherry Bim. "I've got nothing on the
+Soviets. I bet the fellow that invented that way of torturing the old
+man thinks he's done a grand bit of work. Say, suppose you turned a lot
+of kids loose to govern the United States, why Broadway would be all
+cluttered up with dead nursery maids and murdered governesses. That's
+what's happening in Russia. They don't mean any harm. They're doing all
+they know to govern, only they don't know much--take no notice of his
+reverence, he always gets like this round about meal times."
+
+The voice of the black-coated priest grew louder. He stood before the
+barred window, crossing himself incessantly.
+
+"It is the celebration of the Divine Mystery," said Malinkoff in a low
+voice, and removed his cap.
+
+"For our holy fathers the high priests Basil the Great, Gregory the
+Divine, Nicholas of Myra in Lycia, for Peter and Alexis and Jonas, and
+all holy high priests," groaned the man, "for the holy wonder workers,
+the disinterested Cosmas and Damiauns, Cyrus and John, Pantaleon and
+Hermolaus, and all unmercenary saints...!
+
+"By the intercession of these, look down upon us, O God!"
+
+He walked back to his seat and, taking compassion upon this man with a
+white, drawn face, Malcolm went to him.
+
+"Little father," he said, "is there anything we can do for you?"
+
+He produced his cigarette case, but the pope shook his head.
+
+"There is nothing, my son" he replied in a weary voice, which he did
+not raise above one monotonous tone, "unless you can find the means of
+bringing Boolba to this cell. Oh, for an hour of the old life!" He
+raised his hand and his voice at the same moment, and the colour came to
+his cheeks. "I would take this Boolba," he said, "as holy Ivan took the
+traitors before the Kremlin, and first I would pour boiling hot water
+upon him and then ice cold water, and then I would flay him, suspending
+him by the ankles; then before he was dead I would cut him in four
+pieces----"
+
+"Phew!" said Malcolm, and walked away.
+
+"Did you expect to find a penitent soul?" asked Malinkoff dryly. "My
+dear fellow, there is very little difference between the Russian of
+to-day and the Russian of twelve months ago, with this exception, that
+the men who had it easy are now having it hard, and those who had to
+work and to be judged are now the judges."
+
+Malcolm said nothing. He went to the bench and making himself as
+comfortable as possible he lay down. It was astounding that he could be,
+as he was, accustomed to captivity in the space of a few hours. He might
+have lived in bondage all his life, and he would be prepared to live for
+ever so long as--he did not want to think of the girl, that sweeper of
+Boolba's.
+
+As to his own fate he was indifferent. Somehow he believed that he was
+not destined to die in this horrible place, and prayed that at least he
+might see the girl once more before he fell a victim to the malice of
+the ex-butler.
+
+To his agony of mind was added a more prosaic distress--he was
+ravenously hungry, a sensation which was shared by his two companions.
+
+"I've never known them to be so late," complained Cherry Bim
+regretfully. "There's usually a bit of black bread, if there's nothing
+else."
+
+He walked to the window and, leaning his arms on the sill, looked
+disconsolately forth.
+
+"Hi, Ruski!" he yelled at some person unseen, and the other inmates of
+the room could see him making extravagant pantomime, which produced
+nothing in the shape of food.
+
+It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and Malcolm was dozing, when they
+heard the grate of the key in the lock and the slipping of bolts, then
+the door opened slowly. Malcolm leapt forward.
+
+"Irene--your Highness!" he gasped.
+
+The girl walked into the cell without a word, and put the big basket she
+had been carrying upon the table. There was a faint colour in the face
+she turned to Malcolm. Her hands were outstretched to him, and he caught
+them in his own and held them together.
+
+"Poor little girl!"
+
+She smiled.
+
+"Mr. Hay, you have made good progress in your Russian since I met you
+last," she said. "General Malinkoff, isn't it?"
+
+The general stood strictly to attention, his hand at his cap--a fact
+which seemed to afford great amusement to the gaoler who stood in the
+doorway, and who was an interested spectator.
+
+"It was Boolba's idea that I should bring you food," said the girl, "and
+I have been ordered to bring it to you every day. I have an idea that he
+thinks"--she stopped--"that he thinks I like you," she went on frankly,
+"and of course that is true. I like all people who fly into danger to
+rescue distressed females," she smiled.
+
+"Can anything be done for you?" asked Malcolm in a low voice. "Can't you
+get away from this place? Have you no friends?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I have one friend," she said, "who is in even greater danger than
+I--no, I do not mean you. Mr. Hay"--she lowered her voice--"there may be
+a chance of getting you out of this horrible place, but it is a very
+faint chance. Will you promise me that if you get away you will leave
+Russia at once?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"You asked me that once before, your Highness," he said. "I am less
+inclined to leave Russia now than I was in the old days, when the danger
+was not so evident."
+
+"Highness"--it was the priest who spoke--"your magnificence has brought
+me food also? Highness, I served your magnificent father. Do you not
+remember Gregory the priest in the cathedral at Vladimir?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I have food for you, father," she said, "but I do not recall you."
+
+"Highness" he spoke eagerly and his eyes were blazing, "since you go
+free, will you not say a prayer for me before the miraculous Virgin? Or,
+better still, before the tomb of the holy and sainted Dimitry in the
+cathedral of the Archangel! And, lady," he seized her hand in entreaty,
+"before the relics of St. Philip the Martyr in our Holy Cathedral of the
+Assumption."
+
+Gently the girl disengaged her arm.
+
+"Father, I will pray for you," she said. "Good-bye!" she said to
+Malcolm, and again extended both her hands, "till to-morrow!"
+
+Malcolm raised the hands to his lips, and stood like a man in a dream,
+long after the door had slammed behind her.
+
+"Gee!" said the voice of Cherry Bim with a long sigh. "She don't
+remember me, an' I don't know whether to be glad or sorry--some peach!"
+
+Malcolm turned on him savagely, but it was evident the man had meant no
+harm.
+
+"She is a friend of mine," he said sharply.
+
+"Sure she is," said the placid Cherry, unpacking the basket, "and the
+right kind of friend. If this isn't caviare! Say, shut your eyes, and
+you'd think you were at Rectoris."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+CHERRY BIM MAKES A STATEMENT
+
+
+Malcolm was awakened in the night by a scream. He sprang from the bench,
+his face bathed in perspiration.
+
+"What was that?" he asked hoarsely.
+
+Malinkoff was sitting on the edge of the bench rubbing his eyes.
+
+"I heard something," he yawned.
+
+Only Cheery Bim had not moved. He was lying on his back with his knees
+up and his hands behind his head, wide awake.
+
+"What was it, Cherry?" asked Malcolm.
+
+Slowly the little man rose and stretched himself.
+
+"I wonder what the time is," he said evasively.
+
+Malcolm looked at his watch.
+
+"Half-past three," he replied.
+
+"He's asleep anyway," said Cherry, nodding towards the recumbent figure
+of the priest. "He might have been useful--but I forgot the old man's a
+Jew."
+
+"Do you mean----?" said Malinkoff and glanced at the gate.
+
+Cherry nodded again.
+
+"I never thought they'd carry it out according to programme," he said,
+"but they did. I heard 'em come in."
+
+There was the thud of a door closing.
+
+"That's the door of his cell. They have taken him out, I guess. The last
+fellow they killed in there they hung on a hook--just put a rope round
+his neck and pushed him in a bag. He was a long time dying," he said
+reflectively, and Malcolm saw that the little man's lower lip was
+trembling in spite of his calm, matter-of-fact tone.
+
+Malinkoff had walked across to the priest, and had shaken him awake.
+
+"Father," he said, "a man has just died in the next cell. Would you not
+read the Office of the Dead?"
+
+The priest rose with an ill grace.
+
+"Why should I be awakened from my sleep?" he complained. "Who is this
+man?"
+
+"I do not know his name," said Malinkoff, "but he is a Jew----"
+
+"A Jew!"
+
+The priest spat on the ground contemptuously.
+
+"What, I speak an office for a Jew?" he demanded, wrath in his face.
+
+"For a man, for a human fellow creature," said Malinkoff sternly, but
+the priest had gone back to his hard couch, nor would he leave it, and
+Malinkoff, with a shrug of his shoulders, went back to his bed.
+
+"That is Russia--eternal Russia," he said, and he spoke without
+bitterness. "Neither Czar nor Soviet will alter it."
+
+They did not go to sleep again. Something was speaking to them from the
+next cell, something that whimpered and raised its hands in appeal, and
+they welcomed the daylight, but not the diversion which daylight
+brought. Again the door banged open, and this time a file of soldiers
+stood in the entrance.
+
+"Boris Michaelovitch," said the dark figure in the entrance, "it is the
+hour!"
+
+The priest rose slowly. His face was grey, the hands clasped together
+before him shook; nevertheless, he walked firmly to the door.
+
+Before the soldiers had closed around him he turned and raised his hand
+in blessing, and Malinkoff fell upon his knees.
+
+Again the door slammed and the bolts shot home, and they waited in
+silence.
+
+There was no sound for ten minutes, then came a crash of musketry, so
+unexpected and so loud that it almost deafened them. A second volley
+followed, and after an interval a third, and then silence. Cherry Bim
+wiped his forehead.
+
+"Three this morning," he said unsteadily. "Anyway, it's better than
+hanging."
+
+There was a long pause, and then:
+
+"Say," he said, "I'm sorry I said I was glad that guy was going."
+
+Malcolm understood.
+
+The day brought Irene at the same hour as on the previous afternoon. She
+looked around for the priest, and apparently understood, for she made no
+reference to the missing man.
+
+"If you can get away from here," she said, "go to Preopojenski. That is
+a village a few versts from here. I tell you this, but----"
+
+She did not complete her sentence, but Malcolm could guess from the
+hopeless despair in her voice.
+
+"Excuse me, miss," interrupted Cherry Bim. "Ain't there any way of
+getting a gun for a man? Any old kind of gun," he said urgently; "Colt,
+Smith-Wesson, Browning, Mauser--I can handle 'em all--but Colt
+preferred."
+
+She shook her head sadly.
+
+"It is impossible," she said. "I am searched every time I come in
+through the lodge."
+
+"In a pie," urged Cherry. "I've read in stories how you can get these
+things in a pie. Couldn't you make----"
+
+"It's quite impossible," she said. "Even bread is cut into four pieces.
+That is done in the lodge."
+
+Cherry Bim cast envious eyes on the tall guard at the doorway. He had a
+long revolver.
+
+"I'll bet," said Cherry bitterly, "he don't know any more about a gun
+than a school-marm. Why, he couldn't hit a house unless he was inside of
+it."
+
+"I must go now," said the girl hastily.
+
+"Tell me one thing," said Malcolm. "You spoke yesterday of having one
+friend. Is that friend Israel Kensky?"
+
+"Hush!" she said.
+
+She took his hand in both of hers.
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Hay," she said. "I may not come to-morrow."
+
+Her voice was hard and strained, and she seemed anxious to end the
+interview.
+
+"Boolba told me this morning," she went on, speaking rapidly but little
+above a whisper, "that he had----certain plans about me. Good-bye, Mr.
+Hay!"
+
+This time she shook hands with Malinkoff.
+
+"Don't forget the village of Preopojensky," she repeated. "There is only
+the slightest chance, but if God is merciful and you reach the outside
+world, you will find the house of Ivan Petroff--please remember that."
+And in a minute she was gone.
+
+"I wonder what was wrong," said Malcolm. "She was not so frightened
+when she came in, then she changed as though----"
+
+Looking round he had seen, only for the fraction of a second, a hand
+through the grating over the bench. Someone had been listening in the
+next cell, and the girl had seen him. He sprang upon a bench and peered
+through, in time to see the man vanish beyond the angle of his vision.
+Malinkoff was lighting his last cigarette.
+
+"My friend," he said, "I have an idea that in the early hours of the
+morning you and I will go the same way as the unfortunate priest."
+
+"What makes you think so?" asked Malcolm quickly.
+
+"Not only do I, but the Grand Duchess thinks so also," said Malinkoff.
+"Possibly this is news."
+
+Again the door was opened, and this time it was an officer of the Red
+Guard who appeared. He had evidently been chosen because of his
+knowledge of English.
+
+"I want the thief," he said tersely in that language.
+
+"That sounds remarkably like me," said Cherry.
+
+He put on his Derby hat slowly and went forth in his shirt-sleeves. They
+watched him through the window being taken across the courtyard and
+through the archway which led to the prison offices and the outer gate.
+
+"They haven't released him, I suppose?" asked Malcolm, and Malinkoff
+shook his head.
+
+"He is to be interrogated," he said. "Evidently there is something which
+Boolba wants to know about us, and which he believes this man will
+tell."
+
+Malcolm was silent, turning matters over in his mind.
+
+"He won't tell anything that will injure us," he said.
+
+"But the man is a crook," said Malinkoff; "that is the word, isn't it?"
+
+"That's the word," agreed Malcolm grimly, "but he's also a man of my own
+race and breed, and whilst I would not trust him with my pocket-book--or
+I should not have trusted him before I came in here--I think I can trust
+him with my life, supposing that he has my life in his hands."
+
+In twenty minutes Cherry Bim was back, very solemn and mysterious until
+the gaoler was gone. Then he asked:
+
+"Who is Israel Kensky, anyway?"
+
+"Why?" asked Malcolm quickly.
+
+"Because I'm going to make a statement about him--a written statement,"
+he said cheerfully. "I'm going to have a room all to myself," he spoke
+slowly as though he were repeating something which he had already told
+himself, "because I am not a quick writer. Then I am going to tell all
+that she said about Israel Kensky."
+
+"You can tell that in a second," said Malcolm sternly, and the little
+man raised a lofty hand.
+
+"Don't get up in the air."
+
+"Why have they sent you back now?"
+
+"To ask a question or two," said Cherry.
+
+He put on his coat, examined the interior of his hat thoughtfully, and
+jammed it down on his head.
+
+"Ten minutes are supposed to elapse," he said melodramatically, "passed
+in light and airy conversation about a book--the 'Book of--of----"
+
+"'All-Power'?" said Malcolm.
+
+"That's the fellow. I should say it's the history of this darned place.
+Here they come."
+
+He pulled down his coat, brushed his sleeves and stepped forward briskly
+to meet the English-speaking officer.
+
+They passed an anxious two hours before he returned, and, if anything,
+he was more solemn than ever. He made no reply to their questions, but
+paced the room, and then he began to sing, and his tune had more reason
+than rhyme.
+
+"Look through the grating," he chanted, "see if anybody is watching or
+listening, my honey, oh my honey!"
+
+"There's nobody there," said Malcolm after a brief inspection.
+
+"He'll be back again in five minutes," said Cherry, stopping his song
+and speaking rapidly. "I told him I wanted to be sure on one point, and
+he brought me back. I could have done it, but I wouldn't leave you
+alone."
+
+"Done what?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Saved myself. Do you know what I saw when I got into that room for the
+first time? The guy in charge was locking away in a desk three guns and
+about ten packets of shells. It sounds like a fairy story, but it's
+true, and it's a desk with a lock that you could open with your teeth!"
+
+It was Malinkoff who saw the possibilities of the situation which the
+man described.
+
+"And they left you alone in the room?" he asked quickly.
+
+"Sure," said Cherry. "Lift my hat, and lift it steady."
+
+Malcolm pulled his hat up, and the butt of a revolver slipped out.
+
+"There's a Browning there--be careful," said Cherry, ducking his head
+and pulling off his hat in one motion. "Here's the other under my arm,"
+he put his hand beneath his coat and pulled out a Colt.
+
+"Here are the shells for the automatic. I'll take the long fellow. Now
+listen, you boys," said Cherry. "Through that gateway at the end of the
+yard, you come to another yard and another gate, which has a guard on
+it. Whether we get away or whether we don't, depends on whether our luck
+is in or out."
+
+"Look!" he whispered, "here comes Percy!"
+
+The door swung open and the officer beckoned Cherry forward with a lift
+of his chin. Cherry walked toward him and the officer half turned in the
+attitude of one who was showing another out. Cherry's hand shot out,
+caught the man by the loose of his tunic and swung him into the room.
+
+"Laugh and the world laughs with you," said Cherry, who had an
+assortment of literary quotations culled from heaven knows where. "Shout
+and you sleep alone!"
+
+The muzzle of a long-barrelled '45 was stuck in the man's stomach. He
+did not see it, but he guessed it, and his hands went up.
+
+"Tie him up--he wears braces," said Cherry. "I'll take that belt of
+deadly weapons." He pulled one revolver from the man's holster and
+examined it with an expert's eye. "Not been cleaned for a month," he
+growled; "you don't deserve to be trusted with a gun."
+
+He strapped the belt about his waist and sighed happily.
+
+They gagged the man with a handkerchief, and threw him ungently upon
+the bench before they passed through the open door to comparative
+freedom. Cherry locked and bolted the door behind them, and pulled down
+the outer shutter, with which, on occasions, the gaoler made life in the
+cells a little more unendurable by excluding the light. The cells were
+below the level of the courtyard, and they moved along the trench from
+which they opened.
+
+Pacing his beat by the gateway was a solitary sentry.
+
+"Stay here," whispered Cherry; "he has seen me going backward and
+forward, and maybe he thinks I'm one of the official classes."
+
+He mounted the step leading up from the trench, and walked boldly toward
+the gateway. Nearing the man, he turned to wave a greeting to an
+imaginary companion. In reality he was looking to see whether there were
+any observers of the act which was to follow.
+
+Watching him, they did not see exactly what had happened. Suddenly the
+soldier doubled up like a jack-knife and fell.
+
+Cherry bent over him, lifted the rifle and stood it against the wall,
+then, exhibiting remarkable strength for so small a man, he picked up
+the man in his arms and dropped him into the trench which terminated at
+the gateway. They heard the thud of his body, and, breaking cover, they
+raced across the yard, joining Cherry, who led the way through the deep
+arch.
+
+Now they saw the outer barrier. It consisted of a formidable iron
+grille. To their right was a gloomy building, which Malcolm judged was
+the bureau of the prison, to the left a high wall. On either side of the
+gateway was a squat lodge, and before these were half a dozen soldiers,
+some leaning against the gate, some sitting in the doorway of the
+lodges, but all carrying rifles.
+
+"This way," said Cherry under his breath, and turned into the office.
+
+The door of the room on his left was open, and into this they walked. It
+was empty, but scarcely had they closed the door than there were
+footsteps outside. Cherry, with a gun in each hand, a hard and ugly grin
+on his fat face, covered the door, but the footsteps passed.
+
+There was a babble of voices outside and a rattle and creak of gates.
+Malcolm crept to the one window which the office held (he guessed it was
+here that Cherry had written his "statement"), and peeped cautiously
+forth.
+
+A big closed auto was entering the gate, and he pulled his head back.
+Cherry was at his side.
+
+"Somebody visiting--a fellow high up," whispered the latter hoarsely;
+"they'll come in here, the guy we left in the cell told me he'd want
+this room. Try that door!"
+
+He pointed to a tall press and Malinkoff was there in a second. The
+press was evidently used for the storage of stationery. There was one
+shelf, half way up, laden with packages of paper, and Malinkoff lifted
+one end. The other slipped and the packets dropped with a crash. But the
+purring of the auto in the yard was noisy enough to drown the sound
+unless somebody was outside the door.
+
+"Three can squeeze in--you go first, Mr. Hay."
+
+It was more than a squeeze, it was a torture, but the door closed on
+them.
+
+Malcolm had an insane desire to laugh, but he checked it at the sound of
+a voice--for it was the voice of Boolba.
+
+"I cannot stay very long, comrade," he was saying as he entered the
+room, "but...."
+
+The rest was a mumble.
+
+"I will see that she is kept by herself," said a strange voice,
+evidently of someone in authority at the prison.
+
+Malcolm bit his lips to check the cry that rose.
+
+"Irene!"
+
+"..." Boolba's deep voice was again a rumble.
+
+"Yes, comrade, I will bring her in ... let me lead you to a chair."
+
+He evidently went to the door and called, and immediately there was a
+tramp of feet.
+
+"What does this mean, Boolba?"
+
+Malcolm knew the voice--he had heard it before--and his relief was such
+that all sense of his own danger passed.
+
+"Sophia Kensky," Boolba was speaking now, "you are under arrest by order
+of the Soviet."
+
+"Arrest!" the word was screamed, "me----?"
+
+"You are plotting against the Revolution, and your wickedness has been
+discovered," said Boolba. "_Matinshka!_ Little mama, it is ordered!"
+
+"You lie! You lie!" she screeched. "You blind devil--I spit on you! You
+arrest me because you want the aristocrat Irene Yaroslav! Blind pig!"
+
+"_Prekanzeno, dushinka!_ It is ordered, dear little soul," murmured
+Boolba. "I go back alone--listen! My auto is turning. I go back alone,
+_drushka_, and who shall be my eyes now that my little mama is gone?"
+
+They heard the chair pushed back as he rose and the scream and flurry as
+she leapt at him.
+
+"Keep her away, little comrade," roared Boolba. "Keep her away--I am
+blind; her father blinded me; keep her away!"
+
+It was Cherry Bim who slipped first from the cupboard.
+
+Under the menace of his guns the soldiers fell back.
+
+"Auto Russki--hold up the guard, Hay," he muttered, and Malinkoff jumped
+through the doorway to the step of the big car in one bound.
+
+Cherry held the room. He spoke no Russian, but his guns were
+multi-lingual. There was a shot outside before he fired three times into
+the room. Then he fell back, slamming the door, and jumped into the car
+as it moved through the open gateway.
+
+Malcolm was on one footboard, Malinkoff by the side of the chauffeur on
+the other.
+
+So they rocked through the ill-paved streets of Moscow, and rushed the
+suburban barricade without mishap.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+IN THE HOLY VILLAGE
+
+
+"Preopojensky, but by a circuitous route," said Malinkoff, speaking
+across the chauffeur. "What about the wires?"
+
+He looked up at the telegraph lines, looping from pole to pole, and
+Malcolm thrust his head into the window of the limousine to communicate
+this danger to the sybaritic Mr. Bim, who was spraying himself with
+perfume from a bottle he had found in the well-equipped interior of the
+car.
+
+"Stop," said Cherry. "We're well away from Moscow."
+
+At a word from Malinkoff the chauffeur brought the car to a standstill
+and Cherry slipped out, revolver in hand.
+
+Then to the amazement of Malcolm and the unfeigned admiration of the
+general, Cherry Bim made good his boast. Four times his gun cracked and
+at each shot a line broke.
+
+"To be repeated at intervals," said Cherry, climbing into the car. "Wake
+me in half an hour," and, curling himself up in the luxurious depths of
+swansdown cushions, he fell asleep.
+
+Happily Malinkoff knew the country to an inch. They were not able to
+avoid the villages without avoiding the roads, but they circumnavigated
+the towns. At nightfall they were in the depths of a wood which ran down
+to the edge of the big lake on which the holy village of Preopojensky
+stands.
+
+"The chauffeur is not the difficulty I thought he would be," reported
+Malinkoff; "he used to drive Korniloff in the days when he was a
+divisional general, and he is willing to throw in his lot with ours."
+
+"Can you trust him!" asked Malcolm.
+
+"I think so," said Malinkoff, "unless we shoot him we simply must trust
+him--what do you think, Mr. Bim?"
+
+"You can call me Cherry," said that worthy. He was eating bread and sour
+cheese which had been bought at a fabulous price in one of the villages
+through which they had passed. Here again they might have been compelled
+to an act which would have called attention to their lawless character,
+for they had no money, had it not been for Cherry. He financed the party
+from the lining of his waistcoat (Malcolm remembered that the little man
+had never discarded this garment, sleeping or waking) and made a casual
+reference to the diamonds which had gone to his account via a
+soi-disant princess and the favourite of a Commissary.
+
+"Anyway," he said, "we could have got it from the chauffeur--he's open
+to reason."
+
+They did not ask him what argument he would have employed, but were glad
+subsequently that these arguments had not been used.
+
+What was as necessary as food was petrol. Peter the chauffeur said that
+there were big army supplies in Preopojensky itself, and undertook to
+steal sufficient to keep the car running for a week.
+
+They waited until it was dark before they left the cover of the wood,
+and walked in single file along a cart-track to the half a dozen
+blinking lights that stood for Preopojensky.
+
+The car they had pulled into deeper cover, marking the place with a
+splinter of mirror broken from its silver frame.
+
+"Nothing like a mirror," explained Cherry Bim. "You've only to strike a
+match, and it shows a light for you."
+
+The way was a long one, but presently they came to a good road which
+crossed the track at right angles, but which curved round until it ran
+parallel with the path they had followed.
+
+"There is the military store," whispered the chauffeur. "I will go now,
+my little general."
+
+"I trust you, _drushka_," said Malinkoff.
+
+"By the head of my mother I will not betray you," said the man, and
+disappeared in the darkness.
+
+After this they held a council of war.
+
+"So far as I can remember, Petroff is the silk merchant," said
+Malinkoff, "and his house is the first big residence we reach coming
+from this direction. I remember it because I was on duty at the
+Coronation of the Emperor, and his Imperial Majesty came to
+Preopojensky, which is a sacred place for the Royal House. Peter the
+Great lived here."
+
+Luck was with them, for they had not gone far before they heard a voice
+bellowing a mournful song, and came up with its owner, a worker in the
+silk mills (they had long since ceased to work) who was under the
+influence of methylated spirit--a favourite tipple since vodka had been
+ukased out of existence.
+
+"Ivan Petroff, son of Ivan?" he hiccoughed.
+
+"Yes, my little dove, it is there. He is a boorjoo and an aristocrat,
+and there is no Czar and no God!--_prikanzerio_--it is ordered by the
+Soviet!..."
+
+And he began to weep
+
+"No Czar and no God! Long live the Revolution! Evivo! No blessed saints
+and no Czar! And I was of the Rasholnik!..."
+
+They left him weeping by the roadside.
+
+"The Rasholniks are the dissenters of Russia--this village was a hotbed
+of them, but they've gone the way of the rest," said Malinkoff sadly.
+
+The house they approached was a big wooden structure ornamented with
+perfectly useless cupolas and domes, so that Malcolm thought at first
+that this was one of the innumerable churches in which the village
+abounded.
+
+There was a broad flight of wooden stairs leading to the door, but this
+they avoided. A handful of gravel at a likely-looking upper window
+seemed a solution. The response was immediate. Though no light appeared,
+the window swung open and a voice asked softly:
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"We are from Irene," answered Malcolm in the same tone.
+
+The window closed, and presently they heard a door unfastened and
+followed the sound along the path which ran close to the house. It was a
+small side door that was opened, and Malcolm led the way through.
+
+Their invisible host closed the door behind them, and they heard the
+clink of a chain.
+
+"If you have not been here before, keep straight on, touching the wall
+with your right hand. Where it stops turn sharply to the right," said
+the unknown rapidly.
+
+They followed his directions, and found the branch passage.
+
+"Wait," said the voice.
+
+The man passed them. They heard him turn a handle.
+
+"Straight ahead you will find the door."
+
+They obeyed, and their conductor struck a match and lit an oil lamp.
+They were in the long room--they guessed that by the glow of the closed
+stove they had seen as they entered.
+
+The windows were heavily shuttered and curtained, and even the door was
+hidden under a thick portière. The man who had brought them in was
+middle-aged and poorly dressed, but then this was a time when everybody
+in Russia was poorly dressed, and his shabbiness did not preclude the
+possibility of his being the proprietor of the house, as indeed he was.
+
+He was eyeing them with suspicion, not wholly unjustified, for the
+patent respectability of Cherry's Derby hat was no compensation for the
+armoury belted about his rotund middle.
+
+But when the man's eyes fell upon Malinkoff, his whole demeanour
+changed, and he advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+"General Malinkoff," he said, "you remember me; I entertained you
+at----"
+
+"At Kieff! Of course!" smiled Malinkoff. "I did not know the Ivan
+Petroff of Moscow was the Ivan of the Ukraine."
+
+"Now, gentlemen, what is your wish?" asked the man, and Malinkoff
+explained the object of the visit.
+
+Petroff looked serious.
+
+"Of course, I will do anything her Highness wishes," he said. "I saw her
+yesterday, and she told me that she had a dear friend in St. Basil."
+Malcolm tried to look unconcerned under Malinkoff's swift scrutiny and
+failed. "But I think she wished you to meet another--guest."
+
+He paused.
+
+"He has gone into Moscow to-night against my wishes," he said with
+trouble in his face; "such an old man----"
+
+"Kensky?" said Malcolm quickly.
+
+"Kensky." The tone was short. "I told him that no good would come of
+it--her Highness was married to-night."
+
+Malcolm took a step forward, but it was an unsteady step.
+
+"Married?" he repeated. "To whom was she married?"
+
+Petroff looked down at the floor as though he dare not meet the eye of
+any man and say so monstrous a thing.
+
+"To the servant Boolba," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE RED BRIDE
+
+
+Irene Yaroslav came back to the home which had always been associated in
+her mind with unhappy memories, to meet the culminating disaster which
+Fate had wrought. Whatever thoughts of escape she may have treasured in
+secret were cut into by the sure knowledge that she was watched day and
+night, and were now finally terminated by the discovery that the big
+apartment house, a suite of which Boolba had taken for her disposal when
+he had ousted her from her father's house, was practically in possession
+of the Soviet Guard.
+
+She drove to the palace with an undisguised escort of mounted men, one
+on either side of the carriage, one before and one behind, and went up
+the stairs--those grim stairs which had frightened her as a child and
+had filled her nights with dreams, passing on her way the now empty
+bureau which it had been Boolba's whim for her to keep.
+
+Maria Badisikaya, an officer of the Committee for the Suppression of
+the Counter-Revolution, formerly an operative in the Moscow Cigarette
+Company, was waiting in the small drawing-room which still retained some
+of its ancient splendour. Maria was a short, stumpy woman with a slight
+moustache and a wart on her chin, and was dressed in green satin, cut
+low to disclose her generous figure. About her stiff, coal-black hair
+was a heavy diamond bandeau. She was sitting on a settee, her feet
+hardly touching the ground, cleaning her nails with a little
+pocket-knife as the girl entered. Evidently this was her maid of honour,
+and she could have laughed.
+
+The woman glowered up at her and jumped briskly to her feet, closing the
+knife and slipping it into her corsage.
+
+"You are late, Irene Yaroslav," she said shrilly. "I have something
+better to do than to sit here waiting for a boorjoo. There is a
+committee meeting at ten o'clock to-night. How do you imagine I can
+attend that? Come, come!"
+
+She bustled into an ante-room.
+
+"Here is your dress, my little bride. See, there is everything, even to
+stockings--Boolba has thought of all, yet he will not see! La! la! What
+a man!"
+
+Numerous articles of attire were laid out on chairs and on the back of
+the sofa, and the girl, looking at them, shuddered. It was Boolba's
+idea--nobody but Boolba would have thought of it. Every garment was of
+red, blood red, a red which seemed to fill the room with harsh sound.
+Stockings of finest silk, shoes of russian leather, cobweb
+underwear--but all of the same hideous hue. In Russia the word "red" is
+also the word "beautiful." In a language in which so many delicate
+shades of meaning can be expressed, this word serves a double purpose,
+doing duty for that which, in the eyes of civilized people, is garish,
+and that which is almost divine.
+
+Maria's manner changed suddenly. From the impatient, slightly pompous
+official, conscious of her position, she became obsequious and even
+affectionate. Possibly she remembered that the girl was to become the
+wife of the most powerful man in Moscow, whose word was amply sufficient
+to send even Gregory Prodol to the execution yard, and Gregory's
+position seemed unassailable.
+
+"I will help you to dress, my little dear," she said. "Let me take your
+hat, my little dove."
+
+"I would rather be alone," said the girl. "Will you please wait in the
+next room, Maria Badisikaya?"
+
+"But I can help you so, my little darling," said the woman, fussing
+about. "A bride has no luck for thirty years if she puts on her own
+stockings."
+
+"Go!" said the girl imperiously, and the woman cringed.
+
+"Certainly, Excellenz," she stammered, and went out without another
+word.
+
+The girl changed quickly, and surveyed herself in the pier glass at the
+end of the room. It was striking but horrible. There came a tap at the
+door and the agitated Maria entered.
+
+"He has sent for you, my little dove," she said. "Come, take my arm. Do
+not tremble, my little pretty. Boolba is a good man and the greatest man
+in Moscow."
+
+She would have taken the girl's arm, but Irene waved her aside, and
+walked swiftly from the drawing-room into the grand saloon. She wanted
+the ordeal over as soon as possible.
+
+The room was crowded, and though many of the electric lamps in the great
+glass chandelier were not in working order and a broken fuse had put
+half the wall brackets in darkness, the light was almost dazzling. This
+wonderful saloon, where ten Czars had eaten bread and salt with ten
+generations of Yaroslavs, was thick with humanity. Some of the men were
+in uniform, some were in a nondescript costume which was the Soviet
+compromise between evening-dress and diplomatic uniform. One man wore a
+correct evening-jacket and a white waistcoat with a perfectly starched
+shirt, over uniform trousers and top-boots. The women were as weirdly
+clothed. Some were shabby to the point of rags, a few wore court dresses
+of the approved pattern, and there was one woman dressed like a man, who
+smoked all the time. The air was blue with tobacco smoke and buzzing
+with sound.
+
+As she came into the saloon somebody shouted her name, and there was
+vigorous applause, not for her, she knew, nor for the name she bore, but
+for the novelty and the "beauty" of her wedding gown.
+
+At the farther end of the room was a table covered with a red cloth, and
+behind it sat a man in evening-dress, whom she recognized as one of the
+newly-appointed magistrates of the city. Nudged behind by Maria, she
+made her way through the press of people, whose admiring comments were
+spoken loud enough for her to hear.
+
+"What a little beauty! Too good for a blind man, eh?"
+
+"We have knelt for her many times, now she shall kneel for us."
+
+"Such a dress! This Boolba is a wonderful fellow."
+
+She halted before the table, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.
+Her head was high, and she met every glance steadily and disdainfully.
+
+The clock struck a quarter after ten when Boolba made his entrance
+amidst a storm of applause.
+
+They had never seen him in such a uniform before. Some thought it was a
+new costume which had been sanctioned by the supreme Soviet for its
+Commissaries; others that it had been planned especially for the
+marriage. Irene alone knew it, and a cold, disdainful smile lit for a
+moment her expressionless face.
+
+She had seen Boolba in knee-breeches and white silk stockings before;
+she knew the coat of green and gold which the retainers of the house of
+Yaroslav wore on state occasions. Boolba was marrying her in his
+butler's livery--a delicate piece of vengeance.
+
+The ceremony was short, and, to the girl, unreal. Religious marriages,
+though they had not altogether been banned, were regarded by the
+official Russia as unnecessary, and a new marriage service had been
+designed, which confined the ceremony to the space of a few minutes. The
+attempts to abolish marriage altogether had been strenuously opposed,
+not so much by the public women who were on the innumerable councils and
+committees, but by the wives of the more important members of the
+organization.
+
+Boolba was led to her side, and reached out his hand gropingly, and in
+very pity of his blindness she took it. Questions were asked him, to
+which he responded and similar questions were asked her, to which she
+made no reply. The whole ceremony was a farce, and she had agreed to it
+only because it gave her a little extra time, and every minute counted.
+From the moment the magistrate pronounced the formula which made them,
+in the eyes of the Soviet law at any rate, man and wife, Boolba never
+loosened his hold of her.
+
+He held her hand in his own big, hot palm, until it was wet and her
+fingers lost all feeling. From group to group they moved, and when they
+crossed the dancing space of the saloon, the revellers stepped aside to
+allow the man to pass. She noticed that in the main they confined
+themselves to country dances, some of which were new to her. And all the
+time Boolba kept up a continuous conversation in an undertone, pinching
+her hand gently whenever he wanted to attract her attention.
+
+"Tell me, my new eyes, my little pigeon of God, what are they doing now?
+Do you see Mishka Gurki? She is a silly woman. Tell me, my little pet,
+if you see her. Watch her well, and tell me how she looks at me. That
+woman is an enemy of the Revolution and a friend of Sophia Kensky....
+Ah! it is sad about your poor friends."
+
+The girl turned cold and clenched her teeth to take the news which was
+coming.
+
+"They tried to escape and they were shot down by our brave guard. I
+would have pardoned them for your sake, all but the thief, who broke
+the jaw of comrade Alex Alexandroff. Yes, I would have pardoned them
+to-night, because I am happy. Else they would have died with Sophia
+Kensky in the morning.... Do I not please you, that I put away this
+woman, who was my eyes and saw for me--all for your sake, my little
+pigeon, all for your sake!... Do you see a big man with one eye? He has
+half my misfortune, yet he sees a million times more than Boolba! That
+is the butcher Kreml--some day he shall see the Kreml[A]," he
+chuckled.... "Why do you not speak, my darling little mama? Are you
+thinking of the days when I was Boolba the slave? Na, na, _stoi_! Think
+of to-day, to-night, my little child of Jesus!"
+
+There were times when she could have screamed, moments of madness when
+she longed to pick up one of the champagne bottles which littered the
+floor, and at intervals were thrown with a crash into a corner of the
+room, and strike him across that great brutal face. There were times
+when she was physically sick and the room spun round and round and she
+would have fallen but for the man's arm. But the hour she dreaded most
+of all came at last, when, one by one, with coarse jests at her
+expense, the motley company melted away and left her alone with the
+man.
+
+"They have all gone?" he asked eagerly. "Every one?"
+
+He clutched more tightly.
+
+"To my room. We have a supper for ourselves. They are pigs, all these
+fellows, my little beautiful."
+
+The old carpet was still on the stairs, she noticed dully. Up above used
+to be her own room, at the far end of the long passage. She had a piano
+there once. She wondered whether it was still there. There used to be a
+servant at the head and at the foot of these stairs--a long,
+green-coated Cossack, to pass whom without authority was to court death.
+The room on the left had been her father's--two big saloons, separated
+by heavy silken curtains; his bureau was at one end, his bedroom at the
+other.
+
+It was into the bureau that the man groped his way. A table had been
+set, crowded with bottles and glasses, piled with fruit, sweetmeats, and
+at the end the inevitable samovar.
+
+"I will lock the door," said Boolba. "Now you shall kiss me on the eyes
+and on the mouth and on the cheeks, making the holy cross."
+
+She braced herself for the effort, and wrenched free. In a flash he came
+at her, and his hands caught the silken gown at the shoulder. She
+twisted under his arm, leaving a length of tattered and torn silk in
+his hand, and the marks of his finger-nails upon her white shoulder. He
+stopped and laughed--a low, gurgling laugh--and it was to the girl like
+the roar of some subterranean river heard from afar.
+
+"Oh, Highness," he mocked, "would you rob a blind man of his bride? Then
+let us be blind together!"
+
+He blundered to the door. There was a click, and the room was in
+darkness.
+
+"I am better than you now," he said. "I hear you in the dark; I can
+almost see you. You are by the corner of the table. Now you are pushing
+a chair. Little pigeon, come to me!"
+
+Whilst he was talking she was safe because she could locate him. It was
+when he was silent that she was filled with wild fear. He moved as
+softly as a cat, and it seemed that his boast of seeing in the dark was
+almost justified. Once his hand brushed her and she shrank back only
+just in time. The man was breathing heavily now, and the old, mocking
+terms of endearment had changed.
+
+"Come to me, Irene Yaroslav!" he roared. "Have I not often run to you?
+Have I not waited throughout the night to take your wraps and bring you
+coffee? Now you shall wait on me by Inokente! You shall be eyes and
+hands for me, and when I am tired of you, you shall go the way of Sophia
+Kensky."
+
+She was edging her way to the door. Once she could switch on the light
+she was safe, at any rate for the time being. There was a long silence,
+and, try as she did, she could not locate him. He must have been
+crouching near the door, anticipating her move, for as her hand fell on
+the switch and the lights sprang into being, he leapt at her. She saw
+him, but too late to avoid his whirling hands. In a second he had her in
+his arms. The man was half mad. He cursed and blessed her alternately,
+called her his little pigeon and his little devil in the same breath.
+She felt the tickle of his beard against her bare shoulder, and strove
+to push him off.
+
+"Come, my little peach," he said. "Who shall say that there is no
+justice in Russia, when Yaroslav's daughter is the bride of Boolba!"
+
+His back was to the curtain, and he was half lifting, half drawing her
+to the two grey strips which marked its division, when the girl
+screamed.
+
+"Again, again, my little dear," grinned Boolba. "That is fine music."
+
+But it was not her own danger which had provoked the cry. It was that
+vision, twice seen in her lifetime, of dead white hands, blue-veined,
+coming from the curtain and holding this time a scarlet cord.
+
+It was about Boolba's neck before he realized what had happened. With a
+strangled cry he released the girl, and she fell back again on the
+table, overturning it with a crash.
+
+"This way, Highness," said a hollow voice, and she darted through the
+curtains.
+
+She heard the shock of Boolba's body as it fell to the ground, and then
+Israel Kensky darted past her, flung open the door and pushed her
+through.
+
+"The servants' way," he said, and she ran to the narrow staircase which
+led below to the kitchen, and above to the attics in which the servants
+slept.
+
+Down the stairs, two at a time, she raced, the old man behind her. The
+stairway ended in a square hall. There was a door, half ajar, leading to
+the kitchen, which was filled with merrymakers, and a second door
+leading into the street, and this was also open. She knew the way
+blindfolded. They were in what had been the coach-yard of the Palace,
+and she knew there were half a dozen ways into the street. Israel chose
+the most unlikely, one which led again to the front of the house.
+
+A drosky was waiting, and into this he bundled her, jumping in by her
+side, holding her about the waist as the driver whipped up his two
+horses and sped through the deserted streets of Moscow.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[A] "Kreml" is literally Kremlin, one of the places of
+detention in Moscow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+
+Malcolm was the first to hear the sound of wheels on the roadway, and
+the party listened in silence till a low whistle sounded and their host
+darted out of the room.
+
+"What was that?" asked Malinkoff. "Somebody has come to the front door."
+
+A few minutes later Petroff staggered through the doorway, carrying the
+limp figure of Irene. It was Malcolm who took the girl in his arms and
+laid her upon the sofa.
+
+"She is not dead," said a voice behind him.
+
+He looked up; it was Israel Kensky. The old man looked white and ill. He
+took the glass of wine which Ivan brought him with a shaking hand, and
+wiped his beard as he looked down at the girl. There was neither
+friendliness nor pity in his glance, only the curious tranquillity which
+comes to the face of a man who has done that which he set out to do.
+
+"What of Boolba?" asked Petroff eagerly
+
+"I think he lives," said Kensky, and shook his head. "I am too weak and
+too old a man to have killed him. I put the cord about his neck and
+twisted it with a stick. If he can loosen the cord he will live; if he
+cannot, he will die. But I think he was too strong a man to die."
+
+"Did he know it was you?" asked Petroff.
+
+Kensky shook his head.
+
+"What is the hour?" he asked, and they told him that it was two o'clock.
+
+"Sophia Kensky dies at four," he said, in such a tone of unconcern that
+even Malinkoff stared at him.
+
+"It is right that she should die," said Kensky, and they marvelled that
+he, who had risked his life to save one of the class which had
+persecuted his people for hundreds of years, should speak in so
+matter-of-fact tones about the fate of his own blood. "She betrayed her
+race and her father. It is the old law of Israel, and it is a good law.
+I am going to sleep."
+
+"Is there a chance that you have been followed?" asked Malinkoff, and
+Kensky pulled at his beard thoughtfully.
+
+"I passed a watchman at the barricade, and he was awake--that is the
+only danger."
+
+He beckoned to Malcolm, and, loth as the young man was to leave the
+girl's side, now that she was showing some signs of recovering
+consciousness, he accompanied the old man from the room.
+
+"_Gospodar_," said Israel Kensky (it sounded strange to hear that old
+title), "once you carried a book for me."
+
+"I remember." Malcolm smiled in spite of himself.
+
+"'The Book of All-Power,'" repeated the Jew quietly. "It is in my room,
+and I shall ask you to repeat your service. That book I would give to
+the Grand Duchess, for I have neither kith nor child, and she has been
+kind to me."
+
+"But surely, Kensky," protested Malcolm, "you, as an intelligent man, do
+not believe in the potency of books or charms of incantations?"
+
+"I believe in the 'Book of All-Power,'" said Kensky calmly. "Remember,
+it is to become the property of the Grand Duchess Irene. I do not think
+I have long to live," he added. "How my death will come I cannot tell,
+but it is not far off. Will you go with me now and take the book?"
+
+Malcolm hesitated. He wanted to get back to the girl, but it would have
+been an ungracious act not to humour the old man, who had risked so much
+for the woman he loved. He climbed the stairs to the little bedroom, and
+waited at the door whilst Kensky went in. Presently the old man
+returned; the book was now stitched in a canvas wrapping, and Malcolm
+slipped the book into his pocket. The very act recalled another scene
+which had been acted a thousand miles away, and, it seemed, a million
+years ago.
+
+"Now let us go down," said Kensky.
+
+"Lord," he asked, as Malcolm's foot was on the stair, "do you love this
+young woman?"
+
+It would have been the sheerest affectation on his part to have evaded
+the question.
+
+"Yes, Israel Kensky," he replied, "I love her," and the old man bowed
+his head.
+
+"You are two Gentiles, and there is less difference in rank than in
+race," he said. "I think you will be happy. May the Gods of Jacob and of
+Abraham and of David rest upon you and prosper you. Amen!"
+
+Never had benediction been pronounced upon him that felt so real, or
+that brought such surprising comfort to the soul of Malcolm Hay. He felt
+as if, in that dingy stairway, he had received the very guerdon of
+manhood, and he went downstairs spiritually strengthened, and every
+doubt in his mind set at rest.
+
+The girl half rose from the couch as he came to her, and in her queer,
+impulsive way put out both her hands. Five minutes before he might have
+hesitated; he might have been content to feel the warmth of her palms
+upon his. But now he knelt down by her side, and, slipping one arm about
+her, drew her head to his shoulder. He heard the long-drawn sigh of
+happiness, he felt her arm creep about his neck, and he forgot the world
+and all the evil and menace it held: he forgot the grave Malinkoff, the
+interested Cherry Bim, still wearing his Derby hat on the back of his
+head, and girt about with the weapons of his profession. He forgot
+everything except that the world was worth living for. There lay in his
+arms a fragrant and a beautiful thing.
+
+It was Petroff who put an end to the little scene.
+
+"I have sent food into the wood for you," he said, "and my man has come
+back to tell me that your chauffeur is waiting by the car. He has all
+the petrol that he requires, and I do not think you should delay too
+long."
+
+The girl struggled to a sitting position, and looked with dismay at her
+scarlet bridal dress.
+
+"I cannot go like this," she said.
+
+"I have your trunk in the house, Highness," said Petroff, and the girl
+jumped up with a little cry of joy.
+
+"I had forgotten that," she said.
+
+She had forgotten also that she was still weak, for she swayed and would
+have stumbled, had not Malcolm caught her.
+
+"Go quickly, Highness," said Petroff urgently. "I do not think it would
+be safe to stay here--safe for you or for Kensky. I have sent one of my
+men on a bicycle to watch the Moscow road."
+
+"Is that necessary?" asked Malinkoff. "Are you suspect?"
+
+Petroff nodded.
+
+"If Boolba learns that Kensky passed this way, he will guess that it is
+to me that he came. I was in the service of the Grand Duke, and if it
+were not for the fact that a former workman of mine is now Assistant
+Minister of Justice in Petrograd, I should have been arrested long ago.
+If Boolba finds Israel Kensky here, or the Grand Duchess, nothing can
+save me. My only hope is to get you away before there is a search.
+Understand, little general," he said earnestly, "if you had not the car,
+I would take all risks and let you stay until you were found."
+
+"That seems unnecessary," said Malinkoff. "I quite agree. What do you
+say, Kensky?"
+
+The old man, who had followed Malcolm down the stairs, nodded.
+
+"I should have shot Boolba," he said thoughtfully, "but it would have
+made too much noise."
+
+"You should have used the knife, little father," said Petroff, but
+Kensky shook his head.
+
+"He wears chain armour under his clothes," he said. "All the
+commissaries do."
+
+Preparations for the journey were hurriedly made. The girl's trunk had
+proved a veritable storehouse, and she came down in a short tweed skirt
+and coat, her glorious hair hidden under a black tam o' shanter, and
+Malcolm could scarcely take his eyes from her.
+
+"You have a coat," said the practical Malinkoff. "That is good--you may
+need it."
+
+Crash!
+
+It was the sound of a rifle butt against the door which struck them
+dumb. Muffled by the thick wood, the voice of the knocker yet came
+clearly: "Open in the name of the Revolution!"
+
+Petroff blinked twice, and on his face was a look as though he could not
+believe his ears. The girl shrank to Malcolm's side, and Malinkoff
+stroked his beard softly. Only Cherry Bim seemed to realize the
+necessities of the moment, and he pulled both guns simultaneously and
+laid them noiselessly on the table before him.
+
+"Open in the name of the Revolution!"
+
+A hiss from Kensky brought them round. He beckoned them through the door
+by which they had made their original entry to the room, and pointed to
+the light. He gripped Petroff by the shoulder.
+
+"Upstairs to your bedroom, friend," he said. "Put on your night-shirt
+and talk to them through the window."
+
+Down the two passages they passed and came to the little door, which
+Kensky unchained and opened. He put his lips close to Malinkoff's ears.
+
+"Do you remember the way you came?" he asked, and the general nodded and
+led the way.
+
+Last but one came Cherry Bim, a '45 in each hand. There were no soldiers
+in view at the back of the house, but Malinkoff could hear their feet on
+some unknown outside road, and realized that the house was in process of
+being surrounded, and had the man who knocked at the door waited until
+this encirclement had been completed, there would have been no chance of
+escape.
+
+They struck the main road, and found the cart track leading to the wood,
+and none challenged them. There was no sound from the house, and
+apparently their flight had not been discovered.
+
+Kensky brought up the rear in spite of Cherry's frenzied injunctions,
+delivered in the four words of Russian which he knew, to get a move on.
+They had reached the fringe of the wood when the challenge came. Out of
+the shadow rode a horseman, and brought his charger across the path.
+
+"Halt!" he cried.
+
+The party halted, all except Cherry, who stepped from the path and
+moved swiftly forward, crouching low, to give the sentry no background.
+
+"Who is that?" asked the man on the horse. "Speak, or I'll fire!"
+
+He had unslung his carbine, and they heard the click of the bolt as the
+breech opened and closed.
+
+"We are friends, little father," said Malinkoff.
+
+"Give me your names," said the sentry, and Malinkoff recited with glib
+ease a list of Russian patronymics.
+
+"That is a lie," said the man calmly. "You are boorjoos--I can tell by
+your voices," and without further warning he fired into the thick of
+them.
+
+The second shot which came from the night followed so quickly upon the
+first that for the second time in like circumstances the girl thought
+only one had been fired. But the soldier on the horse swayed and slid to
+the earth before she knew what had happened.
+
+"Go right ahead," said the voice of Cherry Bim.
+
+He had caught the bridle of the frightened horse, and had drawn him
+aside. They quickened their steps and came up to the car, which the
+thoughtful chauffeur had already cranked up at the sound of the shots.
+
+"Where is Kensky?" asked Malcolm suddenly, "did you see him, Cherry?"
+
+A pause.
+
+"Why, no," said Cherry, "I didn't see him after the lamented tragedy."
+
+"We can't leave the old man," said Malcolm.
+
+"Wait," said the little gun-man. "I will go back and look for him."
+
+Five minutes, ten passed and still there was no sign or sound of Israel
+Kensky or of Cherry. Then a shot broke the stillness of the night, and
+another and another.
+
+"Two rifles and one revolver," said Malinkoff. "Get into the car,
+Highness. Are you ready, Peter?"
+
+There was another shot and then a fusillade. Then came slow footsteps
+along the cart track, and the sound of a man's windy breathing.
+
+"Take him, somebody," said Cherry.
+
+Malinkoff lifted the inanimate figure from Cherry's shoulder and carried
+him into the car. A voice from the darkness shouted a command, there was
+a flash of fire and the "zip" of a bullet.
+
+"Let her go, Percy," said Cherry, and blazed away with both guns into
+the darkness.
+
+He leapt for the footboard and made it by a miracle, and only once did
+they hear him cry as if in pain.
+
+"Are you hit?" asked Malcolm anxiously.
+
+"Naw!" drawled his voice jerkily, for the road hereabouts was full of
+holes, and even speech was as impossible as even riding. "Naw," he
+said. "I nearly lost my hat."
+
+He spoke only once again that night, except to refuse the offer to ride
+inside the car. He preferred the footboard, he said, and explained that
+as a youth it had been his ambition to be a fireman.
+
+"I wonder," he said suddenly, breaking the silence of nearly an hour.
+
+"What do you wonder?" asked Malinkoff, who sat nearest to the window,
+where Cherry stood.
+
+"I wonder what happened to that boy on the bicycle?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+ON THE ROAD
+
+
+Israel Kensky died at five o'clock in the morning. They had made a rough
+attempt to dress the wound in his shoulder, but, had they been the most
+skilful of surgeons with the best appliances which modern surgery had
+invented at their hands, they could not have saved his life. He died
+literally in the arms of Irene, and they buried him in a little forest
+on the edge of a sluggish stream, and Cherry Bim unconsciously delivered
+the funeral oration.
+
+"This poor old guy was a good fellow," he said. "I ain't got nothing on
+the Jews as a class, except their habit of prosperity, and that just
+gets the goat of people like me, who hate working for a living. He was
+straight and white, and that's all you can expect any man to be, or any
+woman either, with due respect to you, miss. If any of you gents would
+care to utter a few words of prayer, you'll get a patient hearing from
+me, because I am naturally a broad-minded man."
+
+It was the girl who knelt by the grave, the tears streaming down her
+cheeks, but what she said none heard. Cherry Bim, holding his hat crown
+outward across his breast, produced the kind of face which he thought
+adequate to the occasion; and, after the party had left the spot, he
+stayed behind. He rejoined them after a few minutes, and he was putting
+away his pocket-knife as he ran.
+
+"Sorry to keep you, ladies and gents," he said, "but I am a sentimental
+man in certain matters. I always have been and always shall be."
+
+"What were you doing?" asked Malcolm, as the car bumped along.
+
+Cherry Bim cleared his throat and seemed embarrassed.
+
+"Well, to tell you the truth," he said. "I made a little cross and stuck
+it over his head."
+
+"But----" began Malcolm, and the girl's hand closed his mouth.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Bim," she said. "It was very, very kind of you."
+
+"Nothing wrong, I hope?" asked Cherry in alarm.
+
+"Nothing wrong at all," said the girl gently.
+
+That cross over the grave of the Jew was to give them a day's respite.
+Israel Kensky had left behind him in the place where he fell a fur hat
+bearing his name. From the quantity of blood which the pursuers found,
+they knew that he must have been mortally wounded, and it was for a
+grave by the wayside that the pursuing party searched and found. It was
+the cross at his head which deceived them and led them to take the ford
+and try along the main road to the south of the river, on the banks of
+which Kensky slept his last dreamless sleep.
+
+The danger for the fugitives was evident.
+
+"The most we can hope," said Malinkoff, "is to escape detection for two
+days, after which we must abandon the car."
+
+"Which way do you suggest?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Poland or the Ukraine," replied the general quickly. "The law of the
+Moscow Soviet does not run in Little Russia or in Poland. We may get to
+Odessa, but obviously we cannot go much farther like this. I have--or
+had," he corrected himself, "an estate about seventy versts from here,
+and I think I can still depend upon some of my people--if there are any
+left alive. The car we must get rid of, but that, I think, will be a
+simple matter."
+
+They were now crossing a wide plain, which reminded Malcolm irresistibly
+of the steppes of the Ukraine, and apparently had recalled the same
+scene to Irene and Malinkoff. There was the same sweep of grass-land,
+the same riot of flowers; genista, cornflour and clover dabbled the
+green, and dwarf oaks and poverty-stricken birches stood in lonely
+patches.
+
+"Here is a Russia which the plough has never touched," said Malinkoff.
+"Does it not seem to you amazing that the Americans and British who go
+forth to seek new colonies, should lure our simple people to foreign
+countries, where the mode of living, the atmosphere, is altogether
+different from this, when here at their doors is a new land undiscovered
+and unexploited?"
+
+He broke off his homily to look out of the window of the car. He had
+done that at least a dozen times in the past half-hour.
+
+"We're going fairly fast," said Malcolm. "You do not think anything will
+overtake us?"
+
+"On the road--no," said Malinkoff, "but I am rather nervous crossing
+this plain, where there is practically no cover at all, and the car is
+raising clouds of dust."
+
+"Nervous of what?"
+
+"Aeroplanes," said Malinkoff. "Look, there is a pleasant little wood. I
+suggest that we get under cover until night falls. The next village is
+Truboisk, which is a large market centre and is certain to hold local
+officers of the Moscow Soviet."
+
+Both his apprehensions and his judgment were justified, for scarcely
+had the car crept into the cover of green boughs, than a big aeroplane
+was sighted. It was following the road and at hardly a hundred feet
+above them. It passed with a roar. They watched it until it was a speck
+in the sky.
+
+"They are taking a lot of trouble for a very little thing. Russia must
+be law-abiding if they turn their aeroplanes loose on a party of
+fugitive criminals!"
+
+"Boolba has told his story," said Malinkoff significantly. "By this time
+you are not only enemies of the Revolution, but you are accredited
+agents of capitalistic Governments. You have been sent here by your
+President to stir up the bourgeois to cast down the Government, because
+of British investments. Mr. Bim will be described as a secret service
+agent who has been employed to assassinate either Trotsky or Lenin. If
+you could only tap the official wireless," said Malinkoff, "you would
+learn that a serious counter-revolutionary plot has been discovered, and
+that American financiers are deeply involved. Unless, of course,"
+corrected Malinkoff, "America happens to be in favour in Petrograd, in
+which case it will be English financiers."
+
+Malcolm laughed.
+
+"Then we are an international incident?" he said.
+
+"You are an 'international incident,'" agreed Malinkoff gravely.
+
+Cherry Bim, sitting on the step, smoking a long cigar, a box of which
+Petroff had given him as a parting present--looked up, blowing out a
+blue cloud.
+
+"A secret service agent?" he said. "That's a sort of fly cop, isn't it?"
+
+"That's about it, Cherry," replied Malcolm.
+
+"And do you think they'll call me a fly cop?" said the interested
+Cherry.
+
+Malinkoff nodded, and the gun-man chewed on his cigar.
+
+"Time brings its revenges, don't it?" he said. "Never, oh never, did I
+think that I should be took for a fellow from the Central Office! It
+only shows you that if a guy continues on the broad path that leadeth to
+destruction, and only goes enough, he'll find Mrs. Nemesis--I think
+that's the name of the dame."
+
+Malinkoff strolled to the edge of the wood and came back hurriedly.
+
+"The aeroplane is returning," he said, "and is accompanied by another."
+
+This time neither machine took the direct route. They were sweeping the
+country methodically from side to side, and Malinkoff particularly
+noticed that they circled about a smaller wood two miles away and seemed
+loth to leave it.
+
+"What colour is the top of this car?" he asked, and Bim climbed up.
+
+"White," he said. "Is there time to put on a little of this 'camelflage'
+I've heard so much about?"
+
+The party set to work in haste to tear down small branches of trees and
+scraps of bushes, and heap them on to the top of the car. Cherry Bim,
+who had the instinct of deception, superintending the actual masking of
+the roof, and as the sun was now setting detected a new danger.
+
+"Let all the windows down," said Cherry. "Put a coat over the glass
+screen and sit on anything that shines."
+
+They heard the roar of the aeroplane coming nearer and crouched against
+the trunk of a tree. Suddenly there was a deafening explosion which
+stunned the girl and threw her against Malcolm. She half-rose to run but
+he pulled her down.
+
+"What was it?" she whispered.
+
+"A small bomb," said Malcolm. "It is an old trick of airmen when they
+are searching woods for concealed bodies of infantry. Somebody is bound
+to run out and give the others away."
+
+Cherry Bim, fondling his long Colt, was looking glumly at the cloud of
+smoke which was billowing forth from the place where the bomb had
+dropped. Round and round circled the aeroplane, but presently, as if
+satisfied with its scrutiny, it made off, and the drone of the engine
+grew fainter and fainter.
+
+"War's hell," said Cherry, wiping his pallid face with a hand that
+shook.
+
+"I can't quite understand it," said Malinkoff. "Even supposing that
+Boolba has told his story, there seems to be a special reason for this
+urgent search. They would, of course, have communicated----"
+
+He fell silent.
+
+"Has Boolba any special reasons, other than those we know?" he asked.
+
+Malcolm remembered the "Book of All-Power" and nodded.
+
+"Have you something of Kensky's?" asked Malinkoff quickly. "Not that
+infernal book?"
+
+He looked so anxious that Malcolm laughed.
+
+"Yes, I have that infernal book. As a matter of fact, it is the infernal
+book of the Grand Duchess now."
+
+"Mine?" she said in surprise.
+
+"Kensky's last words to me were that this book should become your
+property," said Malcolm, and she shivered.
+
+"All my life seems to have been associated with the search for that
+dreadful book," she said. "I wonder if it is one of Kensky's own
+binding. You know," she went on, "that Israel Kensky bound books for a
+hobby? He bound six for me, and they were most beautifully decorated."
+
+"He was a rich man, was he not?" asked Malcolm.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"He was penniless when he died," she said quietly. "Every store of his
+was confiscated and his money was seized by order of the new Government.
+I once asked him definitely why he did not turn to his 'Book of
+All-Power' for help. He told me the time had not yet come."
+
+"May I see the book?"
+
+Malcolm took the volume with its canvas cover from his pocket, and the
+girl looked at it seriously.
+
+"Do you know, I have half a mind to throw it into the fire?" she said,
+pointing to the smouldering wood where the bomb had fallen. "There seems
+something sinister, something ominous about its possession that fills me
+with terror."
+
+She looked at it for a moment musingly, then handed it back to Malcolm.
+
+"Poor Israel!" she said softly, "and poor Russia!"
+
+They waited until darkness fell before they moved on. Malinkoff had an
+idea that there was a crossroad before the town was reached, and
+progress was slow in consequence, because he was afraid of passing it.
+He was determined now not to go through the village, which lay directly
+ahead. The fact that the aeroplane had been able to procure a recruit,
+pointed to the existence of a camp of considerable dimensions in the
+neighbourhood and he was anxious to keep away from armed authority.
+
+It was a tense hour they spent--tense for all except Cherry Bim, who had
+improvised a cushion on the baggage carrier at the back of the car, and
+had affixed himself so that he could doze without falling off. The side
+road did not appear, and Malinkoff grew more and more apprehensive.
+There were no lights ahead, as there should be if he were approaching
+the village. Once he thought he saw dark figures crouching close to the
+ground as the car passed, but put this down to nerves. Five hundred
+yards beyond, he discovered that his eyes had not deceived him. A red
+light appeared in the centre of the road, and against the skyline--for
+they were ascending a little incline at the moment--a number of dark
+figures sprang into view.
+
+The chauffeur brought the car to a halt with a jerk, only just in time,
+for his lamps jarred against the pole which had been placed across the
+road.
+
+Malcolm had drawn his revolver, but the odds were too heavy, besides
+which, in bringing his car to a standstill, the driver had shut off his
+engine and the last hope of bunking through had disappeared.
+
+A man carrying a red lamp came to the side of the car, and flashed the
+light of a torch over the occupants.
+
+"One, two, three, four," he counted. "There should be five."
+
+He peered at them separately.
+
+"This is the aristocrat general, this is the American revolutionary,
+this is the woman. There is also a criminal. Did any man jump out?" he
+asked somebody in the darkness, and there was a chorus of "No!"
+
+Footsteps were coming along the road; the guard which had been waiting
+to close them in from the rear, was now coming up. The man with the
+lamp, who appeared to be an officer, made a circuit of the car and
+discovered the carrier seat, but its occupant had vanished.
+
+"There was a man here, you fools," he shouted. "Search the road; he
+cannot have gone far. Look!"
+
+He put the light on the road.
+
+"There are his boots. You will find him amongst the bushes. Search
+quickly."
+
+Malcolm, at the girl's side, put his arm about her shoulder.
+
+"You are not afraid?" he said gently, and she shook her head.
+
+"I do not think I shall ever be afraid again," she replied. "I have
+faith in God, my dear. Cherry has escaped?" she asked.
+
+"I think so," he replied in a guarded tone. "He must have seen the
+soldiers and jumped. They have just found his boots in the roadway."
+
+The officer came back at that moment.
+
+"You have weapons," he said. "Give them to me."
+
+It would have been madness to disobey the order, and Malcolm handed over
+his revolver and Malinkoff followed suit. Not satisfied with this, the
+man turned them out in the road whilst he conducted a search.
+
+"Get back," he said after this was over. "You must go before the
+Commissary for judgment. The woman is required in Moscow, but we shall
+deal summarily with the foreigner and Malinkoff, also the little thief,
+when we find him."
+
+He addressed the chauffeur.
+
+"I shall sit by your side, and if you do not carry out my instructions I
+shall shoot you through the head, little pigeon," he said. "Get down and
+start your machine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE MONASTERY OF ST. BASIL THE LEPER
+
+
+He gave an order to the soldiers, and the barrier was removed, then he
+struck a match and lit a flare which burnt a dazzling red flame for half
+a minute.
+
+"A signal," said Malinkoff, "probably to notify our capture."
+
+A few minutes later, with a soldier on either footboard, and the officer
+sitting beside the chauffeur, the car sped through the night, checking
+only before it came to the cross-roads which Malinkoff had sought for.
+Turning to the left, the car swung into a road narrower and less
+comfortable for the passengers.
+
+"I wonder if they will catch our brave friend," said the girl.
+
+"They will be sorry if they do," replied Malcolm dryly. "Cherry will not
+be caught as we were."
+
+Ahead of them and to the right apparently, on a hill by their height, a
+dozen fires were burning, and Malinkoff judged that the camp they were
+approaching was one of considerable size. He guessed it was a
+concentration camp where the Reds were preparing for their periodical
+offensive against the Ukraine. It must be somewhere in this district
+that the Polish Commissioners were negotiating with the Supreme
+Government--an event which had set Moscow agog.
+
+An eerie experience this, riding through the dark, the figures of the
+soldier guards on either footboard gripping to the posts of the car.
+Bump, bump, bump it went, swaying and jolting, and then one of the
+guards fell off. They expected him to jump on the footboard again, for
+the auto was going at a slow pace, but to their surprise he did not
+reappear. Then a similar accident happened to the man on the other
+footboard. He suddenly let go his hold and fell backwards.
+
+"What on earth----" said Malcolm.
+
+"Look, look!" whispered the girl.
+
+A foot and a leg had appeared opposite the window, and it came from the
+roof of the car. Then another foot, and the bulk of a body against the
+night.
+
+"It's Cherry!" whispered the girl.
+
+Swiftly he passed the window and came to the side of the officer, whose
+head was turned to the chauffeur.
+
+"Russki," said Cherry, "_stoi_!"
+
+"Stop!" was one of the four Russian words he knew, and the chauffeur
+obeyed, just at the moment when the car came to where the road split
+into two, one running to the right and apparently to the camp, the other
+and the older road dipping down to a misty valley.
+
+The Red officer saw the gun under his nose and took intelligent action.
+His two hands went up and his revolver fell with a clatter at the
+chauffeur's feet. Deftly Cherry relieved him of the remainder of his
+arms.
+
+By this time Malcolm was out of the car, and a brief council of war was
+held.
+
+To leave the man there would be to ask for trouble. To shoot him was
+repugnant even to Cherry, who had constituted himself the official
+assassin of the party.
+
+"We shall have to take him along," said Malinkoff. "There are plenty of
+places where we can leave him in the night, and so long as he does not
+know which way we go, I do not think he can do us any harm."
+
+The Red officer took his misfortune with the philosophy which the
+chauffeur had displayed in similar circumstances.
+
+"I have no malice, little general," he said. "I carry out my orders as a
+soldier should. For my part I would as soon cry 'Long live the Czar!'
+as 'Long live the Revolution!' If you are leaving Russia I shall be
+glad to go with you, and I may be of service because I know all the
+latest plans for arresting you. There is a barrier on every road, even
+on this which you are taking now, unless," he added thoughtfully, "it is
+removed for the Commissary Boolba."
+
+"Is he coming this way?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"You saw me fire a flare," said the man. "That was a signal to the camp
+that you were captured. The news will be telegraphed to Moscow, and
+Boolba will come to sentence the men and take back his wife."
+
+He evidently spoke in the terms of his instructions.
+
+"What road will he take, little soldier?" asked Malinkoff.
+
+"The Tver road," said the man. "It is the direct road from Moscow, and
+we shall cross it very quickly. At the crossing are four soldiers and an
+under officer, but no barricade. If you will direct me I will tell them
+a lie and say that we go to meet Boolba."
+
+"We're in his hands to some extent," said Malinkoff, "and my advice is
+that we accept his offer. He is not likely to betray us."
+
+The car resumed its journey, and Cherry, who had taken his place inside,
+explained the miracle which had happened.
+
+"I saw the first lot of soldiers we passed," he said, "and when the car
+stopped suddenly I knew what had happened. I took off my boots and
+climbed on to the roof. I only made it just in time. The rest was like
+eating pie."
+
+"You didn't shoot the soldiers who were standing on the footboard, did
+you?" asked Malcolm. "I heard no shots."
+
+Cherry shook his head.
+
+"Why shoot 'em?" he said. "I had only to lean over and hit 'em on the
+bean with the butt end of my gun, and it was a case of 'Where am I,
+nurse?'"
+
+Half an hour's drive brought them to the cross-roads, and the four
+apathetic sentries who, at the word of the Red officer, stood aside to
+allow the car to pass. They were now doubling back on their tracks,
+running parallel with the railroad (according to Malinkoff) which, if
+the officer's surmise was accurate, was the one on which Boolba was
+rushing by train to meet them. So far their auto had given them no
+trouble, but twenty miles from the camp both the front tyres punctured
+simultaneously. This might have been unimportant, for they carried two
+spare wheels, only it was discovered that one of these was also
+punctured and had evidently been taken out of use the day on which they
+secured the car. There was nothing to do but to push the machine into a
+field, darken the windows and allow the chauffeur to make his repairs on
+the least damaged of the tubes. They shut him into the interior of the
+car with the Red officer who volunteered his help, furnished him with a
+lamp, and walked down the road in the faint hope of discovering some
+cottage or farm where they could replenish their meagre store of food.
+
+Half an hour's walking brought them to a straggling building which they
+approached with caution.
+
+"It is too large for a farm," said Malinkoff; "it is probably one of
+those monasteries which exist in such numbers in the Moscow Government."
+
+The place was in darkness and it was a long time before they found the
+entrance, which proved to be through a small chapel, sited in one corner
+of the walled enclosure. The windows of the chapel were high up, but
+Malcolm thought he detected a faint glow of light in the interior, and
+it was this flicker which guided them to the chapel. The door was half
+open, and Malinkoff walked boldly in. The building, though small, was
+beautiful. Green malachite columns held up the groined roof, and the
+walls were white with the deadly whiteness of alabaster. A tiny altar,
+on which burnt the conventional three candles, fronted them as they
+entered, and the screen glittered with gold. A priest knelt before the
+altar, singing in a thin, cracked voice, so unmusically that the girl
+winced. Save for the priest and the party, the building was empty.
+
+He rose at the sound of their footsteps, and stood waiting their
+approach. He was a young and singularly ugly man, and suspicion and fear
+were written plainly on his face.
+
+"God save you, little brother of saints!" said Malinkoff.
+
+"God save you, my son!" replied the priest mechanically. "What is it you
+want?"
+
+"We need food and rest for this little lady, also hot coffee, and we
+will pay well."
+
+Malinkoff knew that this latter argument was necessary. The priest shook
+his head.
+
+"All the brethren have gone away from the monastery except Father
+Joachim, who is a timid man, Father Nicholas and myself," he said. "We
+have very little food and none to spare. They have eaten everything we
+had, and have killed my pretty chickens."
+
+He did not say who "they" were, and Malinkoff was not sufficiently
+curious to inquire. He knew that the priests were no longer the power in
+the land that they were in the old days, and that there had been
+innumerable cases where the villagers had risen and slaughtered the men
+whose words hitherto had been as a law to them. A third of the
+monasteries in the Moscow Government had been sacked and burnt, and
+their congregations and officers dispersed.
+
+He was surprised to find this beautiful chapel still intact, but he had
+not failed to notice the absence of the sacred vessels which usually
+adorned the altar, even in the midnight celebration.
+
+"But can you do nothing for our little mama?" asked Malinkoff.
+
+The priest shook his head.
+
+"Our guests have taken everything," he said. "They have even turned
+Brother Joachim from the refectory."
+
+"Your guests?" said Malinkoff.
+
+The priest nodded.
+
+"It is a great prince," he said in awe. "Terrible things are happening
+in the world, Antichrist is abroad, but we know little of such things in
+the monastery. The peasants have been naughty and have broken down our
+wall, slain our martyred brother Mathias--we could not find his body,"
+he added quickly, "and Brother Joachim thinks that the Jews have eaten
+him so that by the consecrated holiness of his flesh they might avert
+their eternal damnation."
+
+"Who is your prince?" asked Malcolm, hope springing in his breast.
+
+There were still powerful factions in Russia which were grouped about
+the representatives and relatives of the late reigning house.
+
+"I do not know his name," said the priest, "but I will lead you to him.
+Perhaps he has food."
+
+He extinguished two of the candles on the altar, crossing himself all
+the while he was performing this ceremony, then led them through the
+screen and out at the back of the chapel. Malcolm thought he saw a face
+peering round the door as they approached it, and the shadow of a flying
+form crossing the dark yard. Possibly the timid Father Joachim he
+thought. Running along the wall was a low-roofed building.
+
+"We are a simple order," said the priest, "and we live simply."
+
+He had taken a candle lantern before he left the chapel, and this he
+held up to give them a better view. Narrow half-doors, the tops being
+absent, were set in the face of the building at intervals.
+
+"Look!" he said, and pushed the lamp into the black void.
+
+"A stable?" said Malinkoff.
+
+He might have added: "a particularly draughty and unpleasant stable."
+There were straw-filled mangers and straw littered the floor.
+
+"Do you keep many horses?"
+
+The priest shook his head.
+
+"Here we sleep," he said, "as directed in a vision granted to our most
+blessed saint and founder, St. Basil the Leper. For to him came an angel
+in the night, saying these words: 'Why sleepest thou in a fine bed when
+our Lord slept lowly in a stable?'"
+
+He led the way across the yard to a larger building.
+
+"His lordship may not wish to be disturbed, and if he is asleep I will
+not wake him."
+
+"How long has he been here?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Since morning," repeated the other.
+
+They were in a stone hall, and the priest hesitated. Then he opened the
+door cautiously, and peeped in. The room was well illuminated; they
+could see the hanging kerosene lamps from where they stood.
+
+"Come," said the priest's voice in a whisper, "he is awake."
+
+Malcolm went first. The room, though bare, looked bright and warm; a big
+wood fire blazed in an open hearth, and before it stood a man dressed in
+a long blue military coat, his hands thrust into his pockets. The hood
+of the coat was drawn over his head, and his attitude was one of
+contemplation. Malcolm approached him.
+
+"Excellenz," he began, "we are travellers who desire----"
+
+Slowly the man turned.
+
+"Oh, you 'desire'!" he bellowed. "What do you desire, Comrade Hay? I
+will tell you what _I_ desire--my beautiful little lamb, my pretty
+little wife!"
+
+It was Boolba.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE END OF BOOLBA
+
+
+Cherry Bim, the last of the party to enter the room, made a dash for the
+door, and came face to face with the levelled rifle held in the hands of
+a soldier who had evidently been waiting the summons of Boolba's shout.
+Behind him were three other men. Cherry dropped to the ground as the
+man's rifle went off, shooting as he fell, and the man tumbled down.
+Scrambling to his feet, he burst through the doorway like a human cannon
+ball, but not even his nimble guns could save him this time. The hall
+was full of soldiers, and they bore him down by sheer weight.
+
+They dragged him into the refectory, bleeding, and the diversion at any
+rate had had one good effect. Only Boolba was there, roaring and raging,
+groping a swift way round the walls, one hand searching, the other
+guiding.
+
+"Where are they?" he bellowed. "Come to me, my little beauty. Hay! I
+will burn alive. Where are they?"
+
+"Little Commissary," said the leader of the soldiers, "she is not here.
+They did not pass out."
+
+"Search, search!" shouted Boolba, striking at the man. "Search, you
+pig!"
+
+"We have the other boorjoo," stammered the man.
+
+"Search!" yelled Boolba. "There is a door near the fire--is it open?"
+
+The door lay in the shadow, and the man ran to look.
+
+"It is open, comrade," he said.
+
+"After them, after them!"
+
+Boolba howled the words, and in terror they left their prisoner and
+flocked out of the door. Cherry stood in the centre of the room, his
+hands strapped behind his back, his shirt half ripped from his body, and
+looked up into the big blinded face which came peering towards him as
+though, by an effort of will, it could glimpse his enemy.
+
+"You are there?"
+
+Boolba's hands passed lightly over the gun-man's face, fell upon his
+shoulders, slipped down the arm.
+
+"Is this the thief? Yes, yes; this is the thief. What is he doing?"
+
+He turned, not knowing that the soldiers had left him alone, and again
+his hands passed lightly over Cherry's face.
+
+"This is good," he said, as he felt the bands on the wrists.
+"To-morrow, little brother, you will be dead."
+
+He might have spared himself his exercise and his reproaches, because to
+Cherry Bim's untutored ear his reviling was a mere jabber of meaningless
+words. Cherry was looking round to find something sharp enough on which
+to cut the strap which bound him, but there was nothing that looked like
+a knife in the room. He knew he had a minute, and probably less, to make
+his escape. His eyes rested for a moment on the holster at Boolba's
+belt, and he side-stepped.
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+Boolba's heavy hand rested on his shoulder.
+
+"Not out of the doorway, my little pigeon. I am blind, but----"
+
+So far he had got when Cherry turned in a flash, so that his back was
+toward Boolba. He stooped, and made a sudden dash backward, colliding
+with the Commissary, and in that second his hand had gripped the gun at
+Boolba's waist. There was a strap across the butt, but it broke with a
+jerk.
+
+Then followed a duel without parallel. Boolba pulled his second gun and
+fired, and, shooting as blindly, Cherry fired backward. He heard a groan
+over his shoulder and saw Boolba fall to his knees. Then he ran for the
+main door, stumbled past the state-bedroom of the monks, and into the
+chapel. It was his one chance that the priest had returned to his
+devotions, and he found the man on his knees.
+
+"Percy," said Cherry, "unfasten that strap."
+
+The priest understood no language but his own. But a gesture, the strap
+about the wrists, blue and swollen, and the long revolver, needed no
+explanation. The strap fell off and Cherry rubbed his wrists.
+
+He opened the breech of his gun; he had four shells left, but he was
+alone against at least twenty men. He guessed that Boolba had made the
+monastery his advance headquarters whilst he was waiting for news of the
+fugitives, and probably not twenty but two hundred were within call.
+
+He reached the road and made for the place where the car had been left.
+If the others had escaped they also would go in that direction. He saw
+no guard or sentry, and heard no sound from the walled enclosure of the
+monastery. He struck against something in the roadway and stooped and
+picked it up. It was stitched in a canvas cover and it felt like a book.
+He suddenly remembered the scraps of conversation he had overheard
+between the girl and Malcolm.
+
+This, then, was the "Book of All-Power."
+
+"Foolishness," said Cherry, and put it in his pocket. But the book
+showed one thing clearly--the others had got away. He had marked the
+place where they had stopped, but the car was gone!
+
+It was too dark to see the tracks, but there was no question that it had
+been here, for he found an empty petrol tin and the still air reeked of
+rubber solution.
+
+He had need of all his philosophy. He was in an unknown country, a
+fugitive from justice, and that country was teeming with soldiers. Every
+road was watched, and he had four cartridges between him and capture.
+There was only one thing to do, and that was to go back the way the car
+had come, and he stepped out undauntedly, halting now and again to stoop
+and look along the railway line, for he was enough of an old campaigner
+to know how to secure a skyline.
+
+Then in the distance he saw a regular line of lights, and those lights
+were moving. It was a railway train, and apparently it was turning a
+curve, for one by one the lights disappeared and only one flicker, which
+he judged was on the engine, was visible. He bent down again and saw the
+level horizon of a railway embankment less than two hundred yards on his
+left, and remembered that Malinkoff had spoken of the Warsaw line.
+
+He ran at full speed, floundering into pools, breaking through bushes,
+and finally scrambled up the steep embankment. How to board the train
+seemed a problem which was insuperable, if the cars were moving at any
+speed. There was little foothold by the side of the track, and
+undoubtedly the train was moving quickly, for now the noise of it was a
+dull roar, and he, who was not wholly unacquainted with certain
+unauthorized forms of travel, could judge to within a mile an hour the
+rate it was travelling.
+
+He fumbled in his pocket and found a match. There was no means of making
+a bonfire. The undergrowth was wet, and he had not so much as a piece of
+paper in his pocket.
+
+"The book!"
+
+He pulled it out, ripped off the canvas cover with his knife, and tried
+to open it. The book was locked, he discovered, but locks were to Cherry
+like pie-crusts--made to be broken. A wrench and the covers fell apart.
+
+He tore out the first three or four pages, struck the match, and the
+flame was touching the corner of the paper when his eyes fell upon the
+printed words. He stood open-mouthed, the flame still burning, gazing at
+the torn leaf until the burning match touched his finger and he dropped
+it.
+
+Torn between doubts, and dazed as he was, the train might have passed
+him, but the light of a match in the still, dark night could be seen for
+miles, and he heard the jar of the brakes. He pushed the book and the
+loose leaves into his pocket and ran along the embankment to meet the
+slowing special--for special it was.
+
+He managed to pass the engine unnoticed, then, crouching down until the
+last carriage was abreast, he leapt up, caught the rail and swung
+himself on to the rear footboard, up the steel plates which serve as
+steps, to the roof of the carriage, just as the train stopped.
+
+There were excited voices demanding explanations, there was a confusion
+of orders, and presently the train moved on, gathering speed, and Cherry
+had time to think. It was still dark when they ran into a little
+junction, and, peeping over the side, he saw a group of officers descend
+from a carriage to stretch their legs. To them came a voluble and
+gesticulating railway official, and again there was a confusion of
+voices. He was telling them something and his tone was apologetic,
+almost fearful. Then, to Cherry's amazement, he heard somebody speak in
+English. It was the voice of a stranger, a drawling English voice.
+
+"Oh, I say! Let them come on, general! I wouldn't leave a dog in this
+country--really I wouldn't."
+
+"But it is against all the rules of diplomacy," said a gruffer voice in
+the same language.
+
+"Moses!" gasped Cherry.
+
+The road led into the station-yard and he had seen the car. There was no
+doubt of it. The lights from one of the train windows were sufficiently
+strong to reveal it, and behind the stationmaster was another little
+group in the shadow.
+
+"It is a matter of life and death." It was Malcolm's voice. "I must get
+this lady to the Polish frontier--it is an act of humanity I ask."
+
+"English, eh?" said the man called the general. "Get on board."
+
+Malcolm took the girl in his arms before them all.
+
+"Go, darling," he said gently.
+
+"I cannot go without you," she said, but he shook his head.
+
+"Malinkoff and I must wait. We cannot leave Cherry. We are going back to
+find him. I am certain he has escaped."
+
+"I will not leave without you," she said firmly.
+
+"You'll all have to come or all have to stay," said the Englishman
+briskly. "We haven't any time to spare, and the train is now going on.
+You see," he said apologetically, "it isn't our train at all, it belongs
+to the Polish Commission, and we're only running the food end of the
+negotiations. We have been fixing up terms between the Red Army and the
+Poles, and it is very irregular that we should take refugees from the
+country at all."
+
+"_Go!_"
+
+Malcolm heard the hoarse whisper, and it was as much as he could do to
+stop himself looking up. He remembered the motor-car and Cherry's
+mysterious and providential appearance from the roof, and he could guess
+the rest.
+
+"Very well, we will go. Come, Malinkoff, I will explain in the car,"
+said Malcolm.
+
+They lifted the girl into the carriage and the men followed. A shriek
+from the engine, a jerk of the cars, and the train moved on. Before the
+rear carriage had cleared the platform a car rocked into the
+station-yard, dashing through the frail wooden fencing on to the
+platform itself.
+
+"_Stoi! Stoi!_"
+
+Boolba stood up in the big touring car, his arms outstretched, the white
+bandage about his neck showing clearly in the car lights. Cherry Bim
+rose to his knees and steadied himself. Once, twice, three times he
+fired, and Boolba pitched over the side of the car dead.
+
+"I had a feeling that we should meet again," said Cherry. "That's not a
+bad gun."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THE LAST
+
+
+"All my life," said Cherry Bim, fondling his Derby hat affectionately,
+"I have been what is called by night-court reporters a human parricide."
+
+He occupied a corner seat in the first-class compartment which had been
+placed at the disposal of the party. To the Peace Commissioners in their
+saloon the fugitives had no existence. Officially they were not on the
+train, and the hot meal which came back to them from the Commissioner's
+own kitchenette was officially sent to "extra train-men," and was
+entered as such on the books of the chef.
+
+The girl smiled. There was cause for happiness, for these dreary flats
+which were passing the window were the flats of Poland.
+
+"I have often thought, Mr. Bim, that you were a human angel!"
+
+Cherry beamed.
+
+"Why, that's what I was named after," he said. "Ain't you heard of the
+Cherry Bims? My sister Sarah was named the same way--you've heard of
+Sarah Bims?"
+
+"Seraphims," laughed Malcolm; "true, it's near enough. But why this
+dissertation on your moral character, Cherry?"
+
+"I'm only remarking," said Cherry, "I wouldn't like you gu--fellers to
+go away thinkin' that high-class female society hadn't brought about a
+change in what I would describe, for want of a better word, as my
+outlook."
+
+"All our outlooks have been shaken up," said the girl, laying her hand
+on Cherry's arm.
+
+"I am a Grand Duchess of Russia and you are--you are----"
+
+"Yes, I'm that," said Cherry, helping her out. "I'm one of nature's
+extractors. But I'm through. I hate the idea of workin' and maybe I
+won't have to, because I've got enough of the--well, any way, I've got
+enough."
+
+Malcolm slapped him on the knee.
+
+"You've brought more from Russia than we have, Cherry," he said.
+
+"But not the greatest prize." It was the silent Malinkoff who spoke.
+"Highness, is there no way of recovering your father's fortune?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"It is gone," she said quietly, "and if Russia were pacified to-morrow I
+should be poor--you know that, Malcolm!"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"I have not even," she smiled, "poor Israel Kensky's wonderful book."
+
+"I was a careless fool," growled Malcolm, "when we struck the road I was
+so intent upon getting to the auto that I did not realize the book had
+dropped out. We hadn't a second to lose," he explained for the third
+time to Cherry. "The soldiers were searching in the yard when Malinkoff
+found the breach in the wall. I hated leaving you----"
+
+"Aw!" said the disgusted Cherry. "Ain't we settled that? Didn't I hear
+you tellin' Percy--and say, is it true that the young lady is--is
+broke?"
+
+"'Broke' is exactly the word," she said cheerfully. "I am going to be a
+nice Scottish wife and live within my husband's means--why, Cherry?"
+
+He had a book in his hand--the "Book of All-Power."
+
+"Where----?"
+
+"Found it on the road," he said. "I broke the lock an' tore out a couple
+of leaves to light a flare. I wanted to flag the train--but I've got
+'em--the leaves, I mean."
+
+"You found it?"
+
+She reached out her hand for the volume, but he did not give it to her.
+
+"I can't read Russian," he said. "What does this say?" and he pointed to
+the inscription on the cover, and she read, translating as she went on:
+
+
+                       "THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+     "Herein is the magic of power and the words and symbols which
+     unlock the sealed hearts of men and turn their proud wills to
+     water."
+
+
+Cherry was silent.
+
+"That's a lie," he said quietly, "for it didn't turn my will to
+water--take it, miss!"
+
+She took it from his hand, wondering, and turned the broken cover. She
+could not believe her eyes ... and turned the leaves quickly. Every page
+was a Bank of England note worth a thousand pounds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"That was how Kensky kept his money evidently," said Malinkoff. "In such
+troublesome times as the Jews passed through, he must have thought it
+safest to convert his property into English money, and when he had
+reached the limit of his hoard he bound the notes into a book."
+
+The girl turned her bewildered face to Cherry.
+
+"Did you know that this was money?" she asked.
+
+"Sure," he said; "didn't I start in to burn it?"
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Book of All-Power, by Edgar Wallace
+
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+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Book Of All-power, by Edgar Wallace.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Book of All-Power, by Edgar Wallace
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Book of All-Power
+
+Author: Edgar Wallace
+
+Release Date: March 28, 2008 [EBook #24920]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander, Martin Pettit and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>THE BOOK OF<br />ALL-POWER</h1>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>EDGAR WALLACE</h2>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>WARD, LOCK &amp; CO., LIMITED</h3>
+
+<p class="center">LONDON AND MELBOURNE</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Made and Printed in Great Britain by</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Ward, Lock &amp; Co., Limited, London.</span></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+
+<table summary="list of popular novels by edgar wallace">
+  <tr>
+    <th>POPULAR NOVELS</th>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <th>BY</th>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <th>EDGAR WALLACE</th>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="center"><span class="smcap">Published by</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="center"><span class="smcap">Ward, Lock &amp; Co., Limited.</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="center"><i>In Various Editions</i></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="center">&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>SANDERS OF THE RIVER</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>BONES</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>BOSAMBO OF THE RIVER</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>BONES IN LONDON</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE KEEPERS OF THE KING'S PEACE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE COUNCIL OF JUSTICE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE DUKE IN THE SUBURBS</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE PEOPLE OF THE RIVER</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>DOWN UNDER DONOVAN</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>PRIVATE SELBY</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE ADMIRABLE CARFEW</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE MAN WHO BOUGHT LONDON</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE JUST MEN OF CORDOVA</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE SECRET HOUSE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>KATE, PLUS TEN</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>LIEUTENANT BONES</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE ADVENTURES OF HEINE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>JACK O' JUDGMENT</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE DAFFODIL MYSTERY</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE NINE BEARS</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE BOOK OF ALL POWER</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>MR. JUSTICE MAXELL</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE BOOKS OF BART</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE DARK EYES OF LONDON</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>CHICK</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>SANDI, THE KING-MAKER</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE THREE OAK MYSTERY</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE FROG</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>BLUE HAND</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>GREY TIMOTHY</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>A DEBT DISCHARGED</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THOSE FOLK OF BULBORO'</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE MAN WHO WAS NOBODY</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE GREEN RUST</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE FOURTH PLAGUE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>THE RIVER OF STARS</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+<h3>To<br />HARRY HUGHES-ONSLOW</h3>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER</h1>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="index">
+<ul>
+<li><span class="mono">CHAPTER</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Introducing Malcolm Hay</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Gun-man Refuses Work</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Grand Duchess Irene</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Prince who Planned</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Raid on the Silver Lion</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Prince Serganoff Pays the Price</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Kensky of Kieff</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Grand Duke is Affable</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Hand at the Window</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Terror in Making</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Commissary with the Crooked Nose</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">In the Prison of St. Basil</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Cherry Bim Makes a Statement</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">In the Holy Village</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Red Bride</span></li>
+<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Book of All-power</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">On the Road</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Monastery of St. Basil the Leper</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The End of Boolba</span></li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_THE_LAST"><span class="smcap">Chapter the Last</span></a></span></li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER</h1>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>INTRODUCING MALCOLM HAY</h3>
+
+<p>If a man is not eager for adventure at the age of twenty-two, the
+enticement of romantic possibilities will never come to him.</p>
+
+<p>The chairman of the Ukraine Oil Company looked with a little amusement
+at the young man who sat on the edge of a chair by the chairman's desk,
+and noted how the eye of the youth had kindled at every fresh
+discouragement which the chairman had put forward. Enthusiasm, reflected
+the elder man, was one of the qualities which were most desirable in the
+man who was to accept the position which Malcolm Hay was at that moment
+considering.</p>
+
+<p>"Russia is a strange country," said Mr. Tremayne. "It is one of the
+mystery places of the world. You hear fellows coming back from China who
+tell you amazing stories of the idiosyncrasies of the Chink. But I can
+tell you, from my own personal <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>observations, that the Chinaman is an
+open book in words of one syllable compared with the average Russian
+peasant. By the way, you speak Russian, I understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Hay nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, sir," he said, "I have been talking Russian ever since I was
+sixteen, and I speak both the dialects."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" nodded Mr. Tremayne. "Now, all that remains for you to do is to
+think both dialects. I was in Southern Russia attending to our wells for
+twenty years. In fact, long before our wells came into being, and I can
+honestly say that, though I am not by any means an unintelligent man, I
+know just as little about the Russian to-day as I did when I went there.
+He's the most elusive creature. You think you know him two days after
+you have met him. Two days later you find that you have changed all your
+opinions about him; and by the end of the first year, if you have kept a
+careful note of your observations and impressions in a diary, you will
+discover that you have three hundred and sixty-five different
+views&mdash;unless it happens to be a leap year."</p>
+
+<p>"What happens in a leap year?" asked the innocent Hay.</p>
+
+<p>"You have three hundred and sixty-six views," said the solemn Mr.
+Tremayne.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p><p>He struck a bell.</p>
+
+<p>"We shan't want you to leave London for a week or two," he said, "and in
+the meantime you had better study up our own special literature. We can
+give you particulars about the country&mdash;that part of the country in
+which the wells are situated&mdash;which you will not find in the guidebooks.
+There are also a few notable personages whom it will be advisable for
+you to study."</p>
+
+<p>"I know most of them," said the youth with easy confidence. "As a matter
+of fact, I got the British Consul to send me a local directory and
+swotted it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tremayne concealed a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"And what did the local directory say about Israel Kensky?" he asked
+innocently.</p>
+
+<p>"Israel Kensky?" said the puzzled youth. "I don't remember that name."</p>
+
+<p>"It is the only name worth remembering," said the other dryly, "and, by
+the way, you'll be able to study him in a strange environment, for he is
+in London at this moment."</p>
+
+<p>A clerk had answered the bell and stood waiting in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Get Mr. Hay those books and pamphlets I spoke to you about," said
+Tremayne. "And, by the way, when did M. Kensky arrive?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-day," said the clerk.</p>
+
+<p>Tremayne nodded.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>"In fact," he said, "London this week will be filled with people whose
+names are not in your precious directory, and all of whom you should
+know. The Yaroslavs are paying a sort of state visit."</p>
+
+<p>"The Yaroslavs?" repeated Hay. "Oh, of course&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The Grand Duke and his daughter," added Mr. Tremayne.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," smiled the young man, "I'm not likely to meet the Grand Duke or
+the Grand Duchess. I understand the royal family of Russia is a little
+exclusive."</p>
+
+<p>"Everything is likely in Russia," said the optimistic Mr. Tremayne. "If
+you come back in a few years' time and tell me that you've been
+appointed an admiral in the Russian Navy, or that you've married the
+Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav, I shall not for one moment disbelieve you.
+At the same time, if you come back from Russia without your ears, the
+same having been cut off by your peasant neighbours to propitiate the
+ghost of a martyr who died six hundred years ago, I shall not be
+surprised either. That is the country you're going to&mdash;and I envy you."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a little surprised at myself," admitted Malcolm, "it seems almost
+incredible. Of course, sir, I have a lot to learn and I'm not placing
+too much reliance upon my degree."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>"Your science degree?" said Tremayne. "It may be useful, but a divinity
+degree would have been better."</p>
+
+<p>"A divinity degree?"</p>
+
+<p>Tremayne nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"It is religion you want in Russia, and especially local religion.
+You'll have to do a mighty lot of adapting when you're out there, Hay,
+and I don't think you could do better than get acquainted with the local
+saints. You'll find that the birth or death of four or five of them are
+celebrated every week, and that your workmen will take a day's holiday
+for each commemoration. If you're not pretty smart, they'll whip in a
+few saints who have no existence, and you'll get no work done at
+all&mdash;that will do."</p>
+
+<p>He ended the interview with a jerk of his head, and as the young man got
+to his feet to go, added: "Come back again to-morrow. I think you ought
+to see Kensky."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he?" asked Hay courteously. "A local magnate?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a sense he is and in a sense he's not," said the careful Mr.
+Tremayne. "He's a big man locally, and from a business point of view, I
+suppose he is a magnate. However, you'll be able to judge for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay went out into the teeming streets of London, walking on air.
+It was his first <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>appointment&mdash;he was earning money, and it seemed
+rather like a high-class dream.</p>
+
+<p>In Maida Vale there are many little side streets, composed of shabby
+houses covered with discoloured stucco, made all the more desolate and
+gloomy in appearance by the long and narrow strip of "garden" which runs
+out to the street. In one of these, devoted to the business of a
+boarding-house, an old man sat at a portable bench, under the one
+electric light which the economical landlady had allowed him. The room
+was furnished in a typically boarding-house style.</p>
+
+<p>But both the worker at the bench, and the woman who sat by the table,
+her chin on her palms, watching him, seemed unaffected by the poverty of
+their surroundings. The man was thin and bent of back. As he crouched
+over the bench, working with the fine tools on what was evidently
+intended to be the leather cover of a book, his face lay in the shadow,
+and only the end of his straggling white beard betrayed his age.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he looked up at the woman and revealed himself as a hawk-nosed
+man of sixty. His face was emaciated and seamed, and his dark eyes shone
+brightly. His companion was a woman of twenty-four, obviously of the
+Jewish type, as was the old man; what good looks she possessed were
+marred by the sneer on her lips.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>"If these English people see you at work," she said presently, "they
+will think you are some poor man, little father."</p>
+
+<p>Israel Kensky did not stop his work.</p>
+
+<p>"What book are you binding?" she asked after awhile. "Is it the Talmud
+which Levi Leviski gave you?"</p>
+
+<p>The old man did not answer, and a dark frown gathered on the woman's
+heavy face. You might not guess that they were father and daughter, yet
+such was the case. But between Sophia Kensky and her father there was
+neither communion of spirit nor friendship. It was amazing that she
+should accompany him, as she did, wherever he went, or that he should be
+content to have her as his companion. The gossips of Kieff had it that
+neither would trust the other out of sight; and it may be that there was
+something in this, though a stronger motive might be suspected in so far
+as Sophia's actions were concerned.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the old man put down his tools, blinked, and pushed back his
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a design for a great book," he said, and chuckled hoarsely. "A
+book with steel covers and wonderful pages." He smiled contemptuously.
+"The Book of All-Power," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Little father, there are times when I think you are mad. For how can
+you know the secrets which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> are denied to others? And you who write so
+badly, how can you fill a great book with your writings?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Book of All-Power," repeated the man, and the smile on the woman's
+face grew broader.</p>
+
+<p>"A wonderful book!" she scoffed, "filled with magic and mystery and
+spells&mdash;do you wonder that we of Kieff suspect you?"</p>
+
+<p>"We of Kieff?" he repeated mockingly, and she nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"We of Kieff," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"So you are with the rabble, Sophia!" He lifted one shoulder in a
+contemptuous little gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"You are also of the rabble, Israel Kensky," she said. "Do you take your
+dinner in the Grand Duke's palace?"</p>
+
+<p>He was gathering together the tools on the table, and methodically
+fitting each graver into a big leather purse.</p>
+
+<p>"The Grand Duke does not stone me in the street, nor set fire to my
+houses," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor the Grand Duchess," said the girl meaningly, and he looked at her
+from under his lowered brows.</p>
+
+<p>"The Grand Duchess is beyond the understanding of such as you," he said
+harshly, and the woman laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"There will come a day when she will be on her knees to me," she said
+prophetically, and she got up from the table with a heavy yawn. "That I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
+promise myself, and with this promise I put myself to sleep every
+night."</p>
+
+<p>She went on and she spoke without heat.</p>
+
+<p>"I see her sweeping my floors and eating the bread I throw to her."</p>
+
+<p>Israel Kensky had heard all this before, and did not even smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You are an evil woman, Sophia," he said. "God knows how such a one
+could be a daughter of mine. What has the Grand Duchess done to you that
+you should harbour such venom?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hate her because she is," said the woman evenly. "I hate her not for
+the harm she has done me, but for the proud smile she gives to her
+slaves. I hate her because she is high and I am low, and because all the
+time she is marking the difference between us."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a fool," said Israel Kensky as he left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I am," said the woman, his daughter. "Are you going to bed
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>He turned in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to my room. I shall not come down again," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will sleep," she yawned prodigiously. "I hate this town."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you come?" he asked. "I did not want you."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p><p>"I came because you did not want me," said Sophia Kensky.</p>
+
+<p>Israel went to his room, closed the door and locked it. He listened and
+presently he heard the sound of his daughter's door close also and heard
+the snap of the key as it turned. But it was a double snap, and he knew
+that the sound was intended for him and that the second click was the
+unlocking of the door. She had locked and unlocked it in one motion. He
+waited, sitting in an arm-chair before a small fire, for ten minutes,
+and then, rising, crossed the room softly and switched out the light.
+There was a transom above the door, so that anybody in the passage
+outside could tell whether his light was on or off. Then he resumed his
+seat, spreading his veined hands to the fire, and listened.</p>
+
+<p>He waited another quarter of an hour before he heard a soft creak and
+the sound of breathing outside the door. Somebody was standing there
+listening. The old man kept his eyes fixed on the fire, but his senses
+were alive to every sound. Again he heard the creaking, this time
+louder. A jerry-built house in Maida Vale does not offer the best
+assistance to the furtive business in which Sophia Kensky was engaged.
+Another creak, this time farther away and repeated at intervals, told
+him that she was going down the stairs. He walked to the window and
+gently pulled up the blind, taking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> his station so that he could command
+a view of the narrow strip of garden. Presently his vigil was rewarded.
+He saw her dark figure walk along the flagged pavement, open the gate
+and disappear into the darkened street.</p>
+
+<p>Israel Kensky went back to his chair, stirred the fire and settled down
+to a long wait, his lined face grave and anxious.</p>
+
+<p>The woman had turned to the right and had walked swiftly to the end of
+the street. The name of that street, or its pronunciation, were beyond
+her. She neither spoke English, nor was she acquainted with the
+topography of the district in which she found herself. She slowed her
+pace as she reached the main road and a man came out of the shadows to
+meet her.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it you, little mother?" he asked in Russian.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God you're here! Who is this?" asked Sophia breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Boris Yakoff," said the other, "I have been waiting for an hour, and it
+is very cold."</p>
+
+<p>"I could not get away before," she said as she fell in beside him. "The
+old man was working with his foolery and it was impossible to get him to
+go to bed. Once or twice I yawned, but he took no notice."</p>
+
+<p>"Why has he come to London?" asked her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> companion. "It must be something
+important to bring him away from his money-bags."</p>
+
+<p>To this the woman made no reply. Presently she asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Do we walk? Is there no droski or little carriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have patience, have patience!" grinned the man good humouredly. "Here
+in London we do things in grand style. We have an auto-car for you. But
+it was not wise to bring it so close to your house, little mother. The
+old man&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, finish with the old man," she said impatiently; "do not forget that
+I am with him all the day."</p>
+
+<p>The antipathy between father and daughter was so well known that the man
+made no apology for discussing the relationship with that frankness
+which is characteristic of the Russian peasant. Nor did Sophia Kensky
+resent the questions of a stranger, nor hesitate to unburden herself of
+her grievances. The "auto-car" proved to be a very common-place
+taxi-cab, though a vehicle of some luxury to Yakoff.</p>
+
+<p>"They say he practises magic," said that garrulous man, as the taxi got
+on its way; "also that he bewitches you."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a lie," said the woman indifferently: "he frightens me
+sometimes, but that is because I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> have here"&mdash;she tapped her
+forehead&mdash;"a memory which is not a memory. I seem to remember something
+just at the end of a thread, and I reach for it, and lo! it is gone!"</p>
+
+<p>"That is magic," said Yakoff gravely. "Evidently he practises his spells
+upon you. Tell me, Sophia Kensky, is it true that you Jews use the blood
+of Christian children for your beastly ceremonies?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of man are you that you believe such things?" she asked
+contemptuously. "I thought all the comrades in London were educated?"</p>
+
+<p>Yakoff made a little clicking noise with his mouth to betray his
+annoyance. And well he might resent this reflection upon his education,
+for he held a university degree and had translated six revolutionary
+Russian novels into English and French. This, he explained with some
+detail, and the girl listened with little interest. She was not
+surprised that an educated man should believe the fable of human
+sacrifices, which had gained a certain currency in Russia. Only it
+seemed to her just a little inexplicable.</p>
+
+<p>The cab turned out of the semi-obscurity of the side street into a
+brilliantly lighted thoroughfare and bowled down a broad and busy road.
+A drizzle of rain was falling and blurred the glass; but even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> had the
+windows been open, she could not have identified her whereabouts.</p>
+
+<p>"To what place are you taking me?" she asked. "Where is the meeting?"</p>
+
+<p>Yakoff lowered his voice to a husky whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the caf&eacute; of the Silver Lion, in a place called Soho," he said.
+"Here we meet from day to day and dream of a free Russia. We also play
+bagatelle." He gave the English name for the latter. "It is a club and a
+restaurant. To-night it is necessary that you should be here, Sophia
+Kensky, because of the great happenings which must follow."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent for awhile, then she asked whether it was safe, and he
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Safe!" he scoffed. "There are no secret police in London. This is a
+free country, where one may do as one wishes. No, no, Sophia Kensky, be
+not afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid," she answered, "but tell me, Yakoff, what is this
+great meeting about?"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall learn, you shall learn, little sister," said Yakoff
+importantly.</p>
+
+<p>He might have added that he also was to learn, for as yet he was in
+ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>They drove into a labyrinth of narrow streets and stopped suddenly
+before a doorway. There was no sign of a restaurant, and Yakoff
+explained,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> before he got out of the cab, that this was the back
+entrance to the Silver Lion, and that most of the brethren who used the
+club also used this back door.</p>
+
+<p>He dismissed the cab and pressed a bell in the lintel of the door.
+Presently it was opened and they passed in unchallenged. They were in a
+small hallway, lighted with a gas-jet. There was a stairway leading to
+the upper part of the premises, and a narrower stairway, also lighted by
+gas, at the foot leading to the cellar; and it was down the latter that
+Yakoff moved, followed by the girl.</p>
+
+<p>They were now in another passage, whitewashed and very orderly. A
+gas-jet lit this also, and at one end the girl saw a plain, wooden door.
+To this Yakoff advanced and knocked. A small wicket, set in the panel,
+was pushed aside, and after a brief scrutiny by the door's custodian, it
+was opened and the two entered without further parley.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>A GUN-MAN REFUSES WORK</h3>
+
+<p>It was a big underground room, the sort of basement dining-room one
+finds in certain of the caf&eacute;s in Soho, and its decorations and furniture
+were solid and comfortable. There were a dozen men in this
+innocent-looking saloon when the girl entered. They were standing about
+talking, or sitting at the tables playing games. The air was blue with
+tobacco smoke.</p>
+
+<p>Her arrival seemed to be the signal for the beginning of a conference.
+Four small tables were drawn from the sides and placed together, and in
+a few seconds she found herself one of a dozen that sat about the board.</p>
+
+<p>The man who seemed to take charge of the proceedings she did not know.
+He was a Russian&mdash;a big, clean-shaven man, quietly and even
+well-dressed. His hair was flaming red, his nose was crooked. It was
+this crooked nose which gave her a clue to his identity. She remembered
+in Kieff, where physical peculiarities could not pass<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> unnoticed, some
+reference to "twist nose," and racked her brains in an effort to recall
+who that personage was. That he knew her he very quickly showed.</p>
+
+<p>"Sophia Kensky," he said, "we have sent for you to ask you why your
+father is in London."</p>
+
+<p>"If you know my father," she replied, "you know also that I, his
+daughter, do not share his secrets."</p>
+
+<p>The man at the head of the table nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I know him," he said grimly, "also I know you, Sophia. I have seen you
+often at the meetings of our society in Kieff."</p>
+
+<p>Again she frowned, trying to recall his name and where she had seen him.
+It was not at any of the meetings of the secret society&mdash;of that she was
+sure. He seemed to read her thoughts, for he laughed&mdash;a deep, thunderous
+laugh which filled the underground room with sound.</p>
+
+<p>"It is strange that you do not know me," he said, "and yet I have seen
+you a hundred times, and you have seen me."</p>
+
+<p>A light dawned on her.</p>
+
+<p>"Boolba, the <i>buffet-schek</i> of the Grand Duke!" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded, absurdly pleased at the recognition.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not attend the meetings in Kieff, little sister, for reasons which
+you will understand. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> here in London, where I have come in advance
+of Yaroslav, it is possible. Now, Sophia Kensky, you are a proved friend
+of our movement?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, since the statement was in the way of a question.</p>
+
+<p>"It is known to you, as to us, that your father, Israel Kensky, is a
+friend of the Grand Duchess."</p>
+
+<p>Boolba, the President, saw the sullen look on her face and drew his own
+conclusions, even before she explained her antipathy to the young girl
+who held that exalted position.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a mystery to me, Boolba," she said, "for what interest can this
+great lady have in an old Jew?"</p>
+
+<p>"The old Jew is rich," said Boolba significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"So also is Irene Yaroslav," said the girl. "It is not for money that
+she comes."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not for money," agreed the other, "it is for something else. When
+the Grand Duchess Irene was a child, she was in the streets of Kieff one
+day in charge of her nurse. It happened that some Caucasian soldiers
+stationed in the town started a pogrom against the Jews. The soldiers
+were very drunk; they were darting to and fro in the street on their
+little horses, and the nurse became frightened and left the child. Your
+father was in hiding, and the soldiers were searching for him; yet, when
+he saw the danger of the Grand Duchess,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> he ran from his hiding-place,
+snatched her up under the hoofs of the horses, and bore her away into
+his house."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know this," said Sophia, listening open-mouthed. Her father
+had never spoken of the incident, and the curious affection which this
+high-born lady had for the old usurer of Kieff had ever been a source of
+wonder to her.</p>
+
+<p>"You know it now," said Boolba. "The Grand Duke has long since forgotten
+what he owes to Israel Kensky, but the Grand Duchess has not. Therefore,
+she comes to him with all her troubles&mdash;and that, Sophia Kensky, is why
+we have sent for you."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I see," she said at last, "you wish me to spy upon Israel Kensky and
+tell you all that happens."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to know all that passes between him and the Grand Duchess," said
+Boolba. "She comes to London to-morrow with her father, and it is
+certain she will seek out Israel Kensky. Every letter that passes
+between them must be opened."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;" she began.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no 'but,'" roared Boolba. "Hear and obey; it is ordered!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned abruptly to the man on his left.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand, Yaroslav arrives in London <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>to-morrow. It is desirable
+that he should not go away."</p>
+
+<p>"But, but, Excellency," stammered the man on his left, "here in London!"</p>
+
+<p>Boolba nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Excellency," wailed the man, "in London we are safe; it is the one
+refuge to which our friends can come. If such a thing should happen,
+what would be our fate? We could not meet together. We should be hounded
+down by the police from morning until night; we should be deported&mdash;it
+would be the ruin of the great movement."</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless, it is an order," said Boolba doggedly; "this is a matter
+beyond the cause. It will gain us powerful protectors at the court, and
+I promise you that, though the commotion will be great, yet it will not
+last for very long, and you will be left undisturbed."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;" began one of the audience, and Boolba silenced him with a
+gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"I promise that none of you shall come to harm, my little pigeons, and
+that you shall not be concerned in this matter."</p>
+
+<p>"But who will do it, Excellency?" asked another member.</p>
+
+<p>"That is too important to be decided without a meeting of all the
+brethren. For my part, I would not carry out such an order unless I
+received the instructions of our President."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>"I promise that none of you shall take a risk," sneered Boolba. "Now
+speak, Yakoff!"</p>
+
+<p>The man who had accompanied Sophia Kensky smiled importantly at the
+company, then turned to Sophia.</p>
+
+<p>"Must I say this before Sophia Kensky?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Speak," said Boolba. "We are all brothers and sisters, and none will
+betray you."</p>
+
+<p>Yakoff cleared his throat.</p>
+
+<p>"When your Excellency wrote to me from Kieff, asking me to find a man, I
+was in despair," he began&mdash;an evidently rehearsed speech, "I tore my
+hair, I wept&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us what you have done," said the impatient Boolba. "For what does
+it matter, in the name of the saints and the holy martyrs" (everyone at
+the table, including Boolba, crossed himself) "whether your hair was
+torn or your head was hammered?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a difficult task, Excellency," said Yakoff in a more subdued
+tone, "but Providence helped me. There is a good comrade of ours who is
+engaged in punishing the bourgeoisie by relieving them of their
+goods&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A thief, yes," said Boolba.</p>
+
+<p>"Through him I learnt that a certain man had arrived in England and was
+in hiding. This man is a professional assassin."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p><p>They looked at him incredulously, all except Boolba, who had heard the
+story before.</p>
+
+<p>"An assassin?" said one. "Of what nationality?"</p>
+
+<p>"American," said Yakoff, and there was a little titter of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"It is true," interrupted Boolba. "This man, whom Yakoff has found, is
+what is known in New York as a gun-man. He belongs to a gang which was
+hunted down by the police, and our comrade escaped."</p>
+
+<p>"But an American!" persisted one of the unconvinced.</p>
+
+<p>"An American," said Yakoff. "This man is desired by the police on this
+side, and went in hiding with our other comrade, who recognized him."</p>
+
+<p>"A gun-man," said Boolba thoughtfully, and he used the English word with
+some awkwardness. "A gun-man. If he would only&mdash;is he here?" he
+demanded, looking up.</p>
+
+<p>Yakoff nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have told him nothing, Excellency," said Yakoff, rising from the
+table with alacrity, "except to be here, near the entrance to the club,
+at this hour. Shall I bring him down?"</p>
+
+<p>Boolba nodded, and three minutes later, into this queer assembly,
+something of a fish out of water and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> wholly out of his element, strode
+Cherry Bim, that redoubtable man.</p>
+
+<p>He was a little, man, stoutly built and meanly dressed. He had a fat,
+good-humoured face and a slight moustache, and eyes that seemed laughing
+all the time.</p>
+
+<p>Despite the coldness of the night, he wore no waistcoat, and as a
+protest against the conventions he had dispensed with a collar. As he
+stood there, belted about his large waist, a billycock hat on the back
+of his head, he looked to be anything from a broken-down publican to an
+out-of-work plumber.</p>
+
+<p>He certainly did not bear the impress of gun-man.</p>
+
+<p>If he was out of his element, he was certainly not out of conceit with
+himself. He gave a cheery little nod to every face that was turned to
+him, and stood, his hands thrust through his belt, his legs wide apart,
+surveying the company with a benevolent smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, ladies and gents," he said. "Shake hands with Cherry Bim!
+Bim on my father's side and Cherry by christening&mdash;Cherry Bim, named
+after the angels." And he beamed again.</p>
+
+<p>This little speech, delivered in English, was unintelligible to the
+majority of those present, including Sophia Kensky, but Yakoff
+translated it. Solemnly he made a circuit of the company and as solemnly
+shook hands with every individual, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> at last he came to Boolba; and
+only then did he hesitate for a second.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps in that meeting there came to him some premonition of the
+future, some half-revealed, half-blurred picture of prophecy. Perhaps
+that picture was one of himself, lying in the darkness on the roof of
+the railway carriage, and an obscene Boolba standing erect in a
+motor-car on the darkened station, waving his rage, ere the three quick
+shots rang out.</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim confessed afterwards to a curious shivery sensation at his
+spine. The hesitation was only for a second, and then his hand gripped
+the big hand of the self-constituted chairman.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, gents and ladies," he said, with a comical little bow towards
+Sophia, "I understand you're all good sports here, and I'm telling you
+that I don't want to stay long. I'm down and out, and I'm free to
+confess it, and any of you ladies and gents who would like to grubstake
+a stranger in a foreign land, why, here's your chance. I'm open to take
+on any kind of job that doesn't bring me into conspicuous relationship
+with the bulls&mdash;bulls, ladies and gentlemen, being New York for
+policemen."</p>
+
+<p>Then Boolba spoke, and he spoke in English, slow but correct.</p>
+
+<p>"Comrade," he said, "do you hate tyrants?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>"If he's a copper," replied Mr. Bim mistakenly. "Why, he's just as
+popular with me as a hollow tooth at an ice-cream party."</p>
+
+<p>"What does he say?" asked the bewildered Boolba, who could not follow
+the easy flow of Mr. Bim's conversation, and Yakoff translated to the
+best of his ability.</p>
+
+<p>And then Boolba, arresting the interruption of the American, explained.
+It was a long explanation. It dealt with tyranny and oppression and
+other blessed words dear to the heart of the revolutionary; it concerned
+millions of men and hundreds of millions of men and women in chains,
+under iron heels, and the like; and Mr. Bim grew more and more hazy, for
+he was not used to the parabole, the allegory, or the metaphor. But
+towards the end of his address, Boolba became more explicit, and, as his
+emotions were moved, his English a little more broken.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bim became grave, for there was no mistaking the task which had been
+set him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold hard, mister," he said. "Let's get this thing right. There's a guy
+you want to croak. Do I get you right?"</p>
+
+<p>Again Mr. Yakoff translated the idioms, for Yakoff had not lived on the
+edge of New York's underworld without acquiring some knowledge of its
+language.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>Boolba nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"We desire him killed," he said. "He is a tyrant, an oppressor&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold hard," said Bim. "I want to see this thing plain. You're going to
+croak this guy, and I'm the man to do it? Do I get you?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is what I desire," said Boolba, and Bim shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"It can't be done," he said. "I'm over here for a quiet, peaceful life,
+and anyway, I've got nothing on this fellow. I'm not over here to get my
+picture in the papers. It's a new land to me&mdash;why, if you put me in
+Piccadilly Circus I shouldn't know which way to turn to get out of it!
+Anyway, that strong arm stuff is out so far as I'm concerned."</p>
+
+<p>"What does he say?" said Boolba again, and again Yakoff translated.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were what you call a gun-man," said Boolba with a curl of
+his lip. "I did not expect you to be frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"There's gun-men and gun-men," said Cherry Bim, unperturbed by the
+patent sarcasm. "And then there's me. I never drew a gun on a man in my
+life that didn't ask for it, or in the way of business. No, sirree. You
+can't hire Cherry Bim to do a low, vulgar murder."</p>
+
+<p>His tone was uncompromising and definite. Boolba realized that he could
+not pursue his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>argument with any profit to himself, and that if he were
+to bring this unwilling agent to his way of thinking a new line would
+have to be taken.</p>
+
+<p>"You will not be asked to take a risk for nothing," he said. "I am
+authorized to pay you twenty thousand roubles, that is, two thousand
+pounds in your money&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not mine," interrupted Bim. "It's ten thousand dollars you're trying to
+say. Well, even that doesn't tempt me. It's not my game, anyway," he
+said, pulling up a chair and sitting down in the most friendly manner.
+"And don't think you're being original when you offer me this
+commission. I've had it offered me before in New York City, and I've
+always turned it down, though I know my way to safety blindfolded.
+That's all there is to it, gentlemen&mdash;and ladies," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"So you refuse?" Neither Boolba's voice nor his manner was pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>"That's about the size of it," said Cherry Bim, rising. "I'm a grafter,
+I admit it. There ain't hardly anything I wouldn't do from smashing a
+bank downwards, to turn a dishonest penny. But, gents, I'm short of the
+necessary nerve, inclination, lack of morals, and general ungodliness,
+to take on murder in the first, second, or third degree."</p>
+
+<p>"You have courage, my friend," said Boolba significantly. "You do not
+suppose we should take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> you into our confidence and let you go away
+again so easily?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bim's smile became broader.</p>
+
+<p>"Gents, I won't deceive you," he said. "I expected a rough house and
+prepared for it. Watch me!"</p>
+
+<p>He extended one of his hands in the manner of a conjurer and with the
+other pulled up the sleeve above the wrist. He turned the hands over,
+waggling the fingers as though he were giving a performance, and they
+watched him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing there, is there?" said Cherry Bim, beaming at the
+company, "and yet there is something there. Look!"</p>
+
+<p>No eyes were sharp enough to follow the quick movement of his hand. None
+saw it drop or rise again. There was a slur of movement, and then, in
+the hand which had been empty, was a long-barrelled Colt. Cherry Bim,
+taking no notice of the sensation he created, tossed the revolver to the
+ceiling and caught it again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, gents, I don't know whether you're foolish or only just crazy. Get
+away from that door, Hector," he said to a long-haired man who stood
+with folded arms against the closed door. And "Hector," whose name was
+Nickolo Novoski Yasserdernski in real life, made haste to obey.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a bit," said the careful gun-man. "That's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> a key in your waistcoat
+pocket, I guess." He thrust the barrel of his revolver against the
+other's side, and the long-haired man doubled up with a gasp. But Cherry
+Bim meant no mischief. The barrel of the gun clicked against the end of
+a key, and when Cherry Bim drew his revolver away the key was hanging to
+it!</p>
+
+<p>"Magnetic," the gun-man kindly explained; "it is a whim of mine."</p>
+
+<p>With no other words he passed through the door and slammed it behind
+him.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GRAND DUCHESS IRENE</h3>
+
+<p>Israel Kensky was dozing before the fire when the sound of the creaking
+stair woke him. He walked softly to the door and listened, and presently
+he heard the steps of his daughter passing along the corridor. He opened
+the door suddenly and stepped out, and she jumped back with a little cry
+of alarm. There were moments when she was terribly afraid of her father,
+and such a moment came to her now.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you not asleep, Israel Kensky?" she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"I could not sleep," replied the other, in so mild a tone that she took
+courage. "Come into my room. I wish to speak to you."</p>
+
+<p>He did not ask her where she had been, or to explain why, at three
+o'clock in the morning, she was dressed for the street, and she felt it
+necessary to offer some explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"You wonder why I am dressed?" she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p><p>"I heard a great noise in the street, and went out to see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What does it matter?" said Israel Kensky. "Save your breath, little
+daughter. Why should you not walk in the street if you desire?"</p>
+
+<p>He switched on the light to augment the red glow which came from the
+fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Sophia," he said, "I have been waiting for you. I heard you
+go out."</p>
+
+<p>She made no reply. There was fear in her eyes, and all the time she was
+conscious of many unpleasant interviews with her father&mdash;interviews
+which had taken place in Kieff and in other towns&mdash;the details of which
+she could never recall. And she was filled with a dread of some
+happening to which she could not give form or description. He saw her
+shifting in her chair and smiled slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Get me the little box which is on my dressing-table, Sophia Kensky," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>He was seated by the fire, his hands outstretched to the red coal. After
+a moment's hesitation she got up, went to the dressing-table, and
+brought back a small box. It was heavy and made of some metal over which
+a brilliant black enamel had been laid.</p>
+
+<p>"Open the box, Sophia Kensky," said the old man, not turning his head.</p>
+
+<p>She had a dim recollection that she had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> asked to do this before,
+but again could not remember when or in what circumstances. She opened
+the lid and looked within. On a bed of black velvet was a tiny convex
+mirror, about the size of a sixpence. She looked at this, and was still
+looking at it when she walked slowly back to her chair and sat down. It
+had such a fascination, this little mirror, that she could not tear her
+eyes away.</p>
+
+<p>"Close your eyes," said Kensky in a monotonous voice, and she obeyed.
+"You cannot open them," said the old man, and she shook her head and
+repeated:</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot open them."</p>
+
+<p>"Now you shall tell me, Sophia Kensky, where you went this night."</p>
+
+<p>In halting tones she told him of her meeting with Yakoff, of their walk,
+of the cab, of the little door in the back street, and the stone stairs
+that led to the whitewashed passage; and then she gave, as near as she
+knew, a full account of all that had taken place. Only when she came to
+describe Bim and to tell of what he said, did she flounder. Bim had
+spoken in a foreign language, and the translation of Yakoff had conveyed
+very little to her. But in this part of the narrative the old man was
+less interested. Again and again he returned to Boolba and the plot.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>"What hand will kill the Grand Duke?" he asked, not once but many
+times, and invariably she answered:</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"On whose behalf does Boolba act?" asked the old man. "Think, Sophia
+Kensky! Who will give this foreigner twenty thousand roubles?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," she answered again.</p>
+
+<p>Presently a note of distress was evident in her voice, and Israel Kensky
+rose up and took the box from her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You will go to bed, Sophia Kensky," he said slowly and deliberately,
+"and to-morrow morning, when you wake, you shall not remember anything
+that happened after you came into this house to-night. You shall not
+remember that I spoke to you or that I asked you to look in the little
+box. Do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Israel Kensky," she replied slowly, and walked with weary feet
+from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Israel Kensky listened and heard her door click, then closed his own,
+and, sitting at a table, began to write quickly. He was still writing
+when the grey dawn showed in his windows at six o'clock. He blotted the
+last letter and addressed an envelope to "The Most Excellent and
+Illustrious Highness the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav" before, without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
+troubling to undress, he sank down upon his bed into a sleep of
+exhaustion.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay had an appointment with Mr. Tremayne on the morning that saw
+Israel Kensky engaged in frantic letter-writing. It was about Kensky
+that Tremayne spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"He has arrived in London," he said, "and is staying in Colbury Terrace,
+Maida Vale. I think you had better see him, because, as I told you, he
+is a local big-wig and may be very useful to you. Our wells, as you
+know, are about thirty miles outside Kieff, which is the nearest big
+town, so you may be seeing him pretty often. Also, by the way, he is our
+agent. If you have any trouble with Government officials you must see
+Kensky, who can generally put things square."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe his daughter is with him," Mr. Tremayne went on, "but I know
+very little about her. Yet another neighbour of yours arrives by special
+train at midday."</p>
+
+<p>"Another neighbour of mine?" repeated Malcolm with a smile. "And who is
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Grand Duke Yaroslav. I don't suppose you'll have very much to do
+with him, but he's the King Pippin in your part of the world."</p>
+
+<p>A clerk came in with a typewritten sheet covered with Russian
+characters.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><p>"Here's your letter of introduction to Kensky. He knows just as much
+English as you will want him to know."</p>
+
+<p>When Malcolm presented himself at the lodgings, it was to discover that
+the old Jew had gone out, and had left no message as to the time he
+would return. Since Malcolm was anxious to meet this important
+personage, he did not leave his letter, but went into the City to lunch
+with an old college chum. In the afternoon he decided to make his call,
+and only remembered, as he was walking up the Strand, that he had
+intended satisfying his curiosity as to that "other neighbour" of his,
+the Grand Duke Yaroslav.</p>
+
+<p>There was a little crowd about Charing Cross Station, though it was
+nearly two hours after midday when the Yaroslavs were due; and he was to
+discover, on inquiry of a policeman, that the cause of this public
+curiosity had been the arrival of two royal carriages.</p>
+
+<p>"Some Russian prince or other," said the obliging bobby. "The boat was
+late, and&mdash;here they come!"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm was standing on the side-walk in the courtyard of Charing Cross
+Station when the two open landaus drove out through the archway. In the
+first was a man a little over middle age, wearing a Russian uniform; but
+Malcolm had no eyes for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> him&mdash;it was for the girl who sat by his side,
+erect, haughty, almost disdainful, with her splendid beauty, and
+apparently oblivious to all that was being said to her by the smiling
+young man who sat on the opposite seat.</p>
+
+<p>As the carriage came abreast and the postilions reined in their mounts
+before turning into the crowded Strand, the girl turned her head for a
+second and her eyes seemed to rest on Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively he lifted his hat from his head, but it was not the girl
+who returned his salutation, but the stiff figure of the elderly man at
+her side who raised his hand with an automatic gesture. Only for a
+second, and then she swept out of view, and Malcolm heaved a long, deep
+sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Some dame!" said a voice at his side. "Well, I'm glad I saw him,
+anyway."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm looked down at the speaker. He was a stout little man, who wore
+his hard felt hat at a rakish angle. The butt of a fat cigar was
+clenched between his teeth, and his genial eyes met Malcolm's with an
+inviting frankness which was irresistible.</p>
+
+<p>"That was his Grand Nibs, wasn't it?" asked the man, and Malcolm smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"That was the Grand Duke, I think," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"And who was the dame?"</p>
+
+<p>"The dame?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p><p>"I mean the lady, the young peacherino&mdash;gee! She was wonderful!"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm shared his enthusiasm but was not prepared to express himself
+with such vigour.</p>
+
+<p>"That girl," said his companion, speaking with evident sincerity, "is
+wasted&mdash;what a face for a beauty chorus!"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm laughed. He was not a very approachable man, but there was
+something about this stranger which broke down all barriers.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm glad I've seen him," said Mr. Cherry Bim again emphatically.
+"I wonder what he's done."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm turned to move off, and the little man followed his example.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean&mdash;what has he done?" asked the amused Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing," said the other airily, "but I just wondered, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad I've seen them too," said Malcolm; "I nearly missed them. I
+was sitting so long over lunch&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You're a lucky man," said Mr. Bim.</p>
+
+<p>"To have seen them?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, to have sat over lunch," said Cherry with an inward groan. "My! I'd
+like to see what a lunch looks like."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm looked at the man with a new interest and a new sympathy.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p><p>"Broke?" he asked, and the other grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"If I was only broke," he said, "there'd be no trouble. But what's the
+matter with me is that there ain't any pieces!"</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim noticed the hesitation in Malcolm's face and said:</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you're not worrying about hurting my feelings."</p>
+
+<p>"How?" said the startled Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Why," drawled the other, "if it's among your mind that you'd like to
+slip me two dollars and you're afraid of me throwing it at you, why, you
+can get that out of your mind straightaway."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm laughed and handed half a sovereign to the man.</p>
+
+<p>"Go and get something to eat," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold hard," said the other as Malcolm was turning away. "What is your
+name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Does that matter?" asked the young man with amusement.</p>
+
+<p>"It matters a lot to me," said the other seriously. "I like to pay back
+anything I borrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Hay is my name&mdash;Malcolm Hay. It's no use giving you my address, because
+I shall be in Russia next week."</p>
+
+<p>"In Russia, eh? That's rum!" Cherry Bim scratched his unshaven chin.
+"I'm always meeting Russians."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>He looked at the young engineer thoughtfully, then, with a little jerk
+of his head and a "So long!" he turned and disappeared into the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm looked at his watch. He would try Kensky again, he thought; but
+again his mission was fruitless. He might have given up his search for
+this will-o'-the-wisp but for the fact that his new employers seemed to
+attach considerable importance to his making acquaintance with this
+notability of Kieff. He could hardly be out after dinner&mdash;he would try
+again.</p>
+
+<p>He had dressed for the solitary meal, thinking that, if his quest again
+failed, he could spend the evening at a theatre. This time the elderly
+landlady of the house in which Mr. Kensky lodged informed him that her
+guest was at home; and a few moments later Malcolm was ushered into the
+presence of the old man.</p>
+
+<p>Israel Kensky eyed his visitor keenly, taking him in from his carefully
+tied dress-bow to the tips of his polished boots. It was an approving
+glance, for Kensky, though he lived in one of the backwaters of
+civilization; though his attitude to the privileged classes of the
+world&mdash;in which category he placed Malcolm, did that young man but know
+it&mdash;was deferential and even servile; had very definite views as to what
+was, and was not, appropriate in his superior's attire.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>He read through the letter which Malcolm had brought without a word,
+and then:</p>
+
+<p>"Pray sit down, Mr. Hay," he said in English. "I have been expecting
+you. I had a letter from Mr. Tremayne."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm seated himself near the rough bench at which he cast curious
+eyes. The paraphernalia of Kensky's hobby still lay upon its surface.</p>
+
+<p>"You are wondering what an old Jew does to amuse himself, eh?" chuckled
+Kensky. "Do you think we in South Russia do nothing but make bombs? If I
+had not an aptitude for business," he said (he pronounced the word
+"pizziness," and it was one of the few mispronunciations he made), "I
+should have been a bookbinder."</p>
+
+<p>"It is beautiful work," said Malcolm, who knew something of the art.</p>
+
+<p>"It takes my mind from things," said Kensky, "and also it helps me&mdash;yes,
+it helps me very much."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm did not ask him in what manner his craft might assist a
+millionaire merchant, for in those days he had not heard of the "Book of
+All-Power."</p>
+
+<p>The conversation which followed travelled through awkward stages and
+more awkward pauses. Kensky looked a dozen times at the clock, and on
+the second occasion Malcolm, feeling uncomfortable,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> rose to go, but was
+eagerly invited to seat himself again.</p>
+
+<p>"You are going to Russia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a strange country if you do not know it. And the Russians are
+strange people. And to Kieff also! That is most important."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm did not inquire where the importance lay, and dismissed this as
+an oblique piece of politeness on the other's part.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I am detaining you, Mr. Kensky. I merely came in to make
+your acquaintance and shake hands with you," he said, rising, after yet
+another anxious glance at the clock on the part of his host.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, no," protested Kensky. "You must forgive me, Mr. Hay, if I seem
+to be dreaming and I do not entertain you. I am turning over in my mind
+so many possibilities, so many plans, and I think I have come to the
+right conclusion. You shall stay, and you shall know. I can rely upon
+your discretion, can I not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know I can!" said the old man, nodding "And you can help me. I am a
+stranger in London. Tell me, Mr. Hay, do you know the Caf&eacute; of the Silver
+Lion?"</p>
+
+<p>The other was staggered by the question.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p><p>"No, I can't say that I do," he admitted. "I am a comparative stranger
+in London myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but you can find it. You know all the reference books, which are so
+much Greek to me; you could discover it by inquiring of the
+police&mdash;inquiries made very discreetly, you understand, Mr. Hay?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm wondered what he was driving at, but the old man changed the
+subject abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"To-night you will see a lady here. She is coming to me. Again I ask for
+your discretion and your silence. Wait!"</p>
+
+<p>He shuffled to the window, pulled aside the blind and looked out.</p>
+
+<p>"She is here," he said in a whisper. "You will stand just there."</p>
+
+<p>He indicated a position which to Malcolm was ludicrously suggestive of
+his standing in a corner. Further explanations could neither be given
+nor asked for. The door opened suddenly and a girl came in, closing it
+behind her. She looked first at Kensky with a smile, and then at the
+stranger, and the smile faded from her lips. As for Malcolm, he was
+speechless. There was no doubt at all as to the identity. The straight
+nose, the glorious eyes, the full, parted lips.</p>
+
+<p>Kensky shuffled across to her, bent down and kissed her hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"Highness," he said humbly, "this gentleman is a friend of mine. Trust
+old Israel Kensky, Highness!"</p>
+
+<p>"I trust you, Israel Kensky," she replied in Russian, and with the
+sweetest smile that Malcolm had ever seen in a woman.</p>
+
+<p>She bowed slightly to the young man, and for the rest of the interview
+her eyes and speech were for the Jew. He brought a chair forward for
+her, dusted it carefully, and she sat down by the table, leaning her
+chin on her palm, and looking at the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"I could not come before," she said. "It was so difficult to get away."</p>
+
+<p>"Your Highness received my letter?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"But Israel," her voice almost pleaded, "you do not believe that this
+thing would happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Highness, all things are possible," said the old man. "Here in London
+the cellars and garrets teem with evil men."</p>
+
+<p>"But the police&mdash;&mdash;" she began.</p>
+
+<p>"The police cannot shelter you, Highness, as they do in our Russia."</p>
+
+<p>"I must warn the Grand Duke," she said thoughtfully, "and"&mdash;she
+hesitated, and a shadow passed over her face&mdash;"and the Prince. Is it not
+him they hate?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>Kensky shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady," he said humbly, "in my letter I told you there was something
+which could not be put on paper, and that I will tell you now. And if I
+speak of very high matters, your Highness must forgive an old man."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, and again her laugh twinkled in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father, the Grand Duke Yaroslav," he said, "has one child, who is
+your Highness."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"The heir to the Grand Dukedom is&mdash;&mdash;" He stopped inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"The heir?" she said slowly. "Why, it is Prince Serganoff. He is with
+us."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm remembered the olive-faced young man who had sat on the seat of
+the royal carriage facing the girl; and instinctively he knew that this
+was Prince Serganoff, though in what relationship he stood to the Grand
+Ducal pair he had no means of knowing.</p>
+
+<p>"The heir is Prince Serganoff," said the old man slowly, "and his
+Highness is an ambitious man. Many things can happen in our Russia,
+little lady. If the Grand Duke were killed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible!" She sprang to her feet. "He would never dare! He would
+never dare!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p><p>Kensky spread out his expressive hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Who knows?" he said. "Men and women are the slaves of their ambition."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him intently.</p>
+
+<p>"He would never dare," she said slowly. "No, no, I cannot believe that."</p>
+
+<p>The old man made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you learn this, Israel Kensky?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"From a good source, Highness," he replied evasively, and she nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you would not tell me this unless there were some foundation,"
+she said. "And your friend?" She looked inquiringly at the silent Hay.
+"Does he know?"</p>
+
+<p>Israel Kensky shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I would wish that the <i>gospodar</i> knew as much as possible, because he
+will be in Kieff, and who knows what will happen in Kieff? Besides, he
+knows London."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm did not attempt to deny the knowledge, partly because, in spite
+of his protest, he had a fairly useful working knowledge of the
+metropolis.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall ask the <i>gospodar</i> to discover the meeting-place of the
+rabble."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suggest," she demanded, "that Prince Serganoff is behind this
+conspiracy, that he is the person who inspired this idea of
+assassination?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>Again the old man spread out his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"The world is a very wicked place," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"And the Prince has many enemies," she added with a bright smile. "You
+must know that, Israel Kensky. My cousin is Chief of the Political
+Police in St. Petersburg, and it is certain that people will speak
+against him."</p>
+
+<p>The old man was eyeing her thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Highness has much wisdom," he said, "and I remember, when you were
+a little girl, how you used to point out to me the bad men from the
+good. Tell me, lady, is Prince Serganoff a good man or a bad man? Is he
+capable or incapable of such a crime?"</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer. In truth she could not answer; for all that Kensky
+had said, she had thought. She rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go now, Israel Kensky," she said. "My car is waiting for me. I
+will write to you."</p>
+
+<p>She would have gone alone, but Malcolm Hay, with amazing courage,
+stepped forward.</p>
+
+<p>"If Your Imperial Highness will accept my escort to your car," he said
+humbly, "I shall be honoured."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him in doubt.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I would rather go alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Let the young man go with you, Highness,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> said Kensky earnestly. "I
+shall feel safer in my mind."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, and led the way down the stairs. They turned out of the
+garden into the street and did not speak a word. Presently the girl said
+in English:</p>
+
+<p>"You must think we Russian people are barbarians, Mr.&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hay," suggested Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hay. That is Scottish, isn't it? Tell me, do you think we are
+uncivilized?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Your Highness," stammered Malcolm. "How can I think that?"</p>
+
+<p>They walked on until they came in sight of the tail lights of the car,
+and then she stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not come any farther," she said. "You can stand here and watch
+me go. Do you know any more than Israel Kensky told?" she asked, a
+little anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," he replied in truth.</p>
+
+<p>She offered her hand, and he bent over it.</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, Mr. Hay. Do not forget, I must see you in Kieff."</p>
+
+<p>He watched the red lights of the car disappear and walked quickly back
+to old Kensky's rooms. Russia and his appointment had a new fascination.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PRINCE WHO PLANNED</h3>
+
+<p>Few people knew or know how powerful a man Prince Serganoff really was
+in these bad old days. He waved his hand and thousands of men and women
+disappeared. He beckoned and he had a thousand sycophantic suppliants.</p>
+
+<p>In the days before he became Chief of the Police to the entourage, he
+went upon a diplomatic mission to High Macedonia, the dark and sinister
+state. He was sent by none, but he had a reason, for Dimitrius, his
+sometime friend, had fled to the capital of the higher Balkan state and
+Serganoff went down without authority to terrify his sometime confidant
+into returning for trial. In High Macedonia the exquisite young man was
+led by sheer curiosity to make certain inquiries into the domestic
+administration of the country, and learnt things.</p>
+
+<p>He had hardly made himself master of these before he was sent for by the
+Foreign Minister.</p>
+
+<p>"Highness," said the suave man, stroking his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> long, brown beard, "how
+long have you been in the capital?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some four days, Excellency," said the Prince.</p>
+
+<p>"That is ninety-six hours too long," said the minister. "There is a
+train for the north in forty minutes. You will catch that, and God be
+with you!"</p>
+
+<p>Prince Serganoff did not argue but went out from the ornate office, and
+the Minister called a man who was waiting.</p>
+
+<p>"If his Highness does not leave by the four o'clock train, cut his
+throat and carry the body to one of the common houses of the
+town&mdash;preferably that of the man Domopolo, the Greek, who is a bad
+character, and well deserving of death."</p>
+
+<p>"Excellency," said the man gravely, and saluted his way out.</p>
+
+<p>They knew Serganoff in High Macedonia and were a little anxious. Had
+they known him better they would have feared him less. He did not leave
+by the four o'clock train, but by a special which was across the
+frontier by four. He sat in a cold sweat till the frontier post was
+past.</p>
+
+<p>This man was a mass of contradictions. He liked the good things of life.
+He bought his hosiery in Paris, his shoes in Vienna, his suits and
+cravats in New York; and it is said of him that he made a special
+pilgrimage to London&mdash;the Mecca of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> those who love good leather
+work&mdash;for the characteristic attach&eacute; cases which were so indispensable
+to the Chief of Gendarmerie of the Marsh Town.</p>
+
+<p>He carried with him the irrepressible trimness and buoyancy of youth,
+with his smooth, sallow face, his neat black moustache and his
+shapeliness of outline. An exquisite of exquisites, he had never felt
+the draughts of life or experienced its rude buffetings.</p>
+
+<p>His perfectly-appointed flat in the Morskaya had been modelled to his
+taste and fancy. It was a suite wherein you pressed buttons and
+comfortable things happened. You opened windows and boiled water, or
+summoned a valet to your bedside by the gentle pressure you applied to a
+mother-of-pearl stud set in silver plate which, by some miracle, was
+always within reach.</p>
+
+<p>He had an entire suite converted to bath-rooms, where his masseur, his
+manicurist and his barber attended him daily. He had conscripted modern
+science to his service, he had so cunningly disguised its application,
+that you might never guess the motive power of the old English clock
+which ticked in the spacious hall, or realize that the soft light which
+came from the many branched candelabra which hung from the centre of his
+drawing-room was due to anything more up to date than the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> hundred most
+life-like candles which filled the sockets.</p>
+
+<p>Yet this suave gentleman with his elegant manners and his pretty taste
+in old china, this genius who was the finest judge in the capital of
+Pekinese dogs, and had been known to give a thousand-rouble fee to the
+veterinary surgeon who performed a minor operation on his favourite
+Borzoi, had another aspect. He who shivered at the first chill winds of
+winter and wrapped himself in sables whenever he drove abroad after the
+last days of September, and had sent men and women to the bleakness of
+Alexandrowski without a qualm; he who had to fortify himself to face an
+American dentist (his fees for missed appointments would have kept the
+average middle-class family in comfort for a year), was ruthless in his
+dealings with the half-crazed men and women who strayed across the
+frontier which divided conviction from propaganda.</p>
+
+<p>Physical human suffering left him unmoved&mdash;he hanged the murderer
+Palatoff with his own hands. Yet in that operation someone saw him turn
+very pale and shrink back from his victim. Afterwards the reason was
+discovered. The condemned man had had the front of his rough shirt
+fastened with a safety-pin which had worked loose. The point had ripped
+a little gash in the inexperienced finger of the amateur hangman.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>He brought Dr. Von Krauss from Berlin, because von Krauss was an
+authority upon blood infection and spent a week of intense mental agony
+until he was pronounced out of danger.</p>
+
+<p>He sat before a long mirror in his bedroom, that gave on Horridge's
+Hotel, and surveyed himself thoughtfully. He was looking at the only man
+he trusted, for it was not vanity, but a love of agreeable company that
+explained the passion for mirrors which was the jest of St. Petersburg.</p>
+
+<p>It was his fourth day in London and a little table near the window was
+covered with patterns of cloth; he had spent an exciting afternoon with
+the representative of his tailor. But it was not of sartorial
+magnificence that he was thinking.</p>
+
+<p>He stretched out his legs comfortably towards his reflection, and
+smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, as though answering some secret thought, and he and the
+reflection nodded to one another as though they had reached a complete
+understanding.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he pushed the bell and his valet appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Has the Grand Duke gone?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Excellency," replied the man.</p>
+
+<p>"And the Grand Duchess?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Excellency."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>"Good!" Serganoff nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Is your Excellency's headache better?" asked the man.</p>
+
+<p>"Much better," replied the Chief of Police. "Go to their Highness's
+suite, and tell their servant&mdash;what is the man's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Boolba, Excellency," said the valet.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that is the fellow. Ask him to come to me. The Grand Duke
+mentioned a matter which I forgot to tell Boolba."</p>
+
+<p>Boolba made his appearance, a suave domestic, wearing the inconspicuous
+livery of an English butler rather than the ornate uniform which
+accompanied his office in Kieff.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do." Serganoff dismissed his valet. "Boolba, come here."</p>
+
+<p>The man approached him and Serganoff lowered his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"You have made a fool of me again, Boolba."</p>
+
+<p>"Excellency," pleaded the man urgently, "I have done all that was
+possible."</p>
+
+<p>"You have placed my fortune and my life in the hands of an American
+criminal. If that is your idea of doing all that is possible, I agree
+with you," said Serganoff. "Be careful, Boolba! The arm of the Bureau is
+a very long one, and greater men than you have disappeared from their
+homes."</p>
+
+<p>"Illustrious Excellency," said the agitated man,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> "I swear to you I did
+all that you requested. There were many reasons why I should not entrust
+this matter to the men of the secret society."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to hear a few," said Serganoff, cleaning his nails
+delicately.</p>
+
+<p>"Excellency, the Grand Duke stands well with the society. He had never
+oppressed them, and he is the only popular member of the Imperial House
+with our&mdash;their society."</p>
+
+<p>"Our society, eh?" said Serganoff, noticing the slip. "Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"Besides, Excellency," said Boolba, "it was necessary not only to kill
+the Grand Duke, but to shoot down his assassin. Our plan was to get this
+American to shoot him in the park, where he walks in the morning, and
+then for one of the society to shoot the American. That was a good plan,
+because it meant that the man who could talk would talk no more, and
+that the comrade who shot down the murderer would stand well with the
+Government."</p>
+
+<p>Serganoff nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"And your plan has failed," he said, "failed miserably at the outset.
+You dog!"</p>
+
+<p>He leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing, and Boolba stepped back.</p>
+
+<p>"Highness, wait, wait!" he cried. "I have something else in my mind! I
+could have helped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> Highness better if I had known more. But I could only
+guess. I had to grope in the dark all the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you imagine I am going to take you into my confidence?" asked
+Serganoff. "What manner of fool am I? Tell me what you have guessed. You
+may sit down; nobody will come in, and if they do you can be buttoning
+my boots."</p>
+
+<p>Boolba wiped his damp face with a handkerchief and leaned nearer to the
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"If the Grand Duke dies, a certain illustrious person succeeds to his
+estates," he said, "but not to his title."</p>
+
+<p>Serganoff looked at him sharply. The man had put into words the one
+difficulty which had occupied the mind of the Chief of Police for
+months.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"The title is in the gift of the Czar," said Boolba. "He alone can
+create a Grand Duke who succeeds but is not in the direct line.
+Therefore, the killing of Yaroslav would bring little but the property
+to the illustrious person. Only if His Imperial Majesty decided upon a
+worthier holder, or if the Grand Duke fell under a cloud at Court, could
+it pass to the illustrious person."</p>
+
+<p>"That I know," said Serganoff. "Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Highness, would it not be better if the Grand Duke were
+disgraced, if he were brought to St. Petersburg to answer certain
+charges which the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> illustrious person formulated? After, the Grand Duke
+might die&mdash;that is a simple matter. Russia would think that he had been
+put to death by the Court party as a matter of policy. Yaroslav is not
+in favour at the Court," he added significantly; but Serganoff shook his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"He is not sufficiently out of favour yet," he said. "Go on, man, you
+have something in your mind."</p>
+
+<p>Boolba edged closer.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose the Grand Duke or the Grand Duchess were involved in some
+conspiracy against the Imperial House?" he said, speaking rapidly.
+"Suppose, on evidence which could not be disputed, such as the evidence
+of the London police, it was proved that either the Grand Duke or his
+daughter was in league with an anarchist society, or was attending their
+meetings&mdash;does your Excellency see?"</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Serganoff, "but they do not attend meetings."</p>
+
+<p>Boolba hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet," he said, speaking slowly, "I would guarantee that I could bring
+the Grand Duchess Irene to such a meeting, and that I could arrange for
+the place to be raided whilst she was there."</p>
+
+<p>Serganoff put down his orange stick and eyed the other keenly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>"You have brains, Boolba," he said. "Some day I shall bring you to St.
+Petersburg and place you on my staff&mdash;if you do not know too much."</p>
+
+<p>He paced the apartment, his hands clasped behind his back.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you get in touch with this American again, bring him to the
+meeting, unless he's afraid to come, and then boldly suggest to him that
+he goes to St. Petersburg to make an attempt upon the life of the Czar
+himself."</p>
+
+<p>"He would reject it," said Boolba, shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p>"What if he did&mdash;that doesn't matter," said Serganoff impatiently. "It
+is sufficient that the suggestion is made. Suppose this man is amongst
+these infamous fellows when the London police raid and arrest them, and
+he makes a statement that he was approached to destroy the Imperial
+life, and the Grand Duchess Irene is arrested at the same time?"</p>
+
+<p>Boolba's eyes brightened.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a wonderful idea, Highness," he said admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>Serganoff continued his pacing, and presently stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"I will arrange the police raid," he said. "I am in communication with
+Scotland Yard, and it will be better if I am present when the raid is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
+conducted. It is necessary that I should identify myself with this
+chapter," he said, "but how will you induce the Grand Duchess to come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Leave that to me, Highness," replied the man, and gave some details of
+his scheme.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>THE RAID ON THE SILVER LION</h3>
+
+<p>Sophia Kensky was a loyal and faithful adherent to the cause she had
+espoused, and her report, written in the weird caligraphy of Russia,
+greatly interested the butler of the Grand Duke Yaroslav. From that
+report he learned of the visit which the Grand Duchess Irene had paid;
+learned, too, that she had been escorted to her car by an Englishman,
+whose name the woman did not know; and was to discover later that the
+said "Englishman" had been sent out by Israel Kensky on a special
+mission. That mission was to discover the Silver Lion, a no very
+difficult task. In point of fact, it was discoverable in a London
+telephone directory, because the upper part of the premises were used
+legitimately enough in the proprietor's business as restaurateur.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay had lunch at the place and saw nothing suspicious in its
+character. Most of the client&egrave;le were obviously foreign, and not a few
+were Russian. Pretending to lose his way, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> wandered through the
+service door, and there made the important discovery that the kitchen
+was on the top floor, and also that meals were being served somewhere in
+the basement. This he saw during the few minutes he was allowed to make
+observations, because there was a service lift which was sent down to
+the unseen clients below.</p>
+
+<p>He apologized for his intrusion and went out. Officially there was no
+basement-room, nor, from the restaurant itself, any sign of stairs which
+led down to an underground chamber. He made a further reconnaissance,
+and found the back door which Sophia Kensky had described in her
+hypnotic sleep, and the location of which the old man had endeavoured to
+convey to his agent.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay was gifted with many of the qualities which make up the
+equipment of a good detective. In addition, he had the education and
+training of an engineer. That the underground room existed, he knew by
+certain structural evidence, and waited about in the street until he saw
+three men come out and the door close behind them. After awhile, another
+two emerged. There was nothing sinister or romantic about the existence
+of a basement dining-room, or even of a basement club-room.</p>
+
+<p>The character of this club was probably well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> known to the police, he
+thought, and pursued his inquiries to Marlborough Street police station.
+There he found, as he had expected, that the club was registered and
+known as "The Foreign Friends of Freedom Club." The officer who supplied
+him with the information told him that the premises were visited at
+frequent intervals by a representative of the police, and that nothing
+of an irregular character had been reported.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any complaints to make?" asked the official.</p>
+
+<p>"None whatever," smiled Hay. "Only I am writing an article on the
+foreign clubs of London, and I want to be sure of my facts."</p>
+
+<p>It was the first and most plausible lie that occurred to him, and it
+answered his purpose. He returned to Kensky with his information, and
+the old man producing a map of London, he marked the spot with a red
+cross. All this time Malcolm Hay was busy making preparations for
+departure. He would have been glad to stay on, so that his leaving
+London would coincide with the departure of the Grand Duchess, but his
+sleeper had already been booked, and he had to make a call <i>en route</i> at
+Vienna.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the occasion of this visit with details of the location and
+character of the club, that he first saw Sophia Kensky. He thought her
+pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> in a bold, heavy way, and she regarded him with insolent
+indifference. It was one of the few occasions in his life that he spoke
+with her.</p>
+
+<p>"The <i>gospodar</i> is going to Kieff, Sophia Kensky," introduced the old
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"What will you do in Kieff, Excellency?" asked the woman indolently.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not be in Kieff," smiled Hay, "except on rare occasions. I am
+taking charge of some oil-wells about twenty versts outside of the
+town."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a terrible life, living in the country," she said, and he was
+inclined to agree.</p>
+
+<p>This and a few trite sentiments about Russian weather and Russian
+seasons were the only words he ever exchanged with her in his life.
+Years later, when he stood, hardly daring to breathe, in the cupboard of
+a commissary's office, and heard her wild denunciation of the man who
+had sent her to death, he was to recall this first and only meeting.</p>
+
+<p>Israel Kensky dismissed his daughter without ceremony, and it was then
+that Malcolm Hay told him the result of his investigations. The old man
+sat for a long time stroking his beard.</p>
+
+<p>"Two more days they stay in this town," he said, half to himself, "and
+that is the dangerous time."</p>
+
+<p>He looked up sharply at Hay.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>"You are clever, and you are English," he said. "Would you not help an
+old man to save this young life from misery and sorrow?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay looked at him in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"To save whom?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The Grand Duchess," replied Kensky moodily. "It is for her I fear, more
+than for her father."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay was on the point of blurting out the very vital truth that
+there was nothing in the wide world he would not do to save that
+wonderful being from the slightest ache or pain, but thought it best to
+dissemble the craziest of infatuations that ever a penniless and obscure
+engineer felt for a daughter of the Imperial House of Russia. Instead he
+murmured some conventional expression of his willingness.</p>
+
+<p>"It is in this club that the danger lies," said Kensky. "I know these
+societies, Mr. Hay, and I fear them most when they look most innocent."</p>
+
+<p>"Could you not get the police to watch?" asked Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>Had he lived in Russia, or had he had the experience which was his in
+the following twelve months, he would not have asked so absurd a
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Kensky, "this is not a matter for the police. It is a
+matter for those who love her."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p><p>"What can I do?" asked Malcolm hastily.</p>
+
+<p>He had a horrible feeling that his secret had been surprised, for he was
+of the age when love is fearless of everything except ridicule.</p>
+
+<p>"You could watch the club," said Kensky. "I myself would go, but I am
+too old, and this English weather makes me sick."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean actually watch it?" said Malcolm in surprise. "Why, I'll do
+that like a shot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Note who goes in and who come out," said Kensky. "Be on hand at all
+times, in case you are called upon for help. You will see my daughter
+there," he said, after a pause, and a faint smile curved his pale lips.
+"Yes, Sophia Kensky is a great conspirator!"</p>
+
+<p>"Whom do you expect me to see?" asked the other bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>Kensky got up from his chair and went to a leather bag which stood on
+the sideboard. This he unlocked, and from a mass of papers took a
+photograph. He brought it back to the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said Malcolm in surprise, "that is the man Serganoff, the Prince
+fellow!"</p>
+
+<p>Kensky nodded slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"That is Serganoff," he said. "Here is another picture of him, but not
+of his face."</p>
+
+<p>It was, in fact, a snapshot photograph showing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> the back of the Police
+Chief; and it might have been, thought Malcolm, of a tailor's dummy,
+with its wasp waist and its perfectly creased trousers.</p>
+
+<p>"Particularly I wish to know whether he will visit the club in the next
+two days," said the old man. "It is important that you should look for
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Anybody else?"</p>
+
+<p>Kensky hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not," he said. "I hope not!"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay went back to his hotel, feeling a new zest in life. His
+experience of the past few days had been incredible. He, an unknown
+student, had found himself suddenly plunged into the heart of an
+anarchist plot, and on nodding terms with royal highnesses! He laughed
+softly as he sat on the edge of his bed and reviewed all the
+circumstances, but did not laugh when the thought occurred to him that
+the danger which might be threatening this girl was very real.</p>
+
+<p>That side of the adventure sobered him. He had sense enough to see that
+it was the unalienable right of youth to believe in fairies and to love
+beautiful princesses, and that such passions were entitled to disturb
+the rest and obscure the judgment of their victims for days and even for
+weeks. But he had an unpleasant conviction<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> that he was looking at the
+Grand Duchess from an angle which was outside his experience of fairy
+stories.</p>
+
+<p>That night when he went on his way to take up his "police duty" in the
+little street behind the Silver Lion, he saw two mounted policemen
+trotting briskly down the Strand followed by a closed carriage, and in
+the light of the electric standard he caught a glimpse of a face which
+set his heart beating faster. He cursed himself for his folly, swore so
+vigorously and so violently at his own stupidity, that he did not
+realize he was talking aloud, until the open-mouthed indignation of an
+elderly lady brought him to a sense of decorum.</p>
+
+<p>She was going to the theatre, of course, he thought, and wondered what
+theatre would be graced by her presence. He half regretted his promise
+to Israel Kensky, which prevented him discovering the house of
+entertainment and securing a box or a stall from whence he could feast
+his eyes upon her face.</p>
+
+<p>His vigil was painfully monotonous. It was the most uninteresting job he
+had ever undertaken. Most of the habitu&eacute;s of the club had evidently come
+at an early hour, for he saw nobody come in and nobody go out until
+nearly eleven o'clock. It began to rain a fine, thin drizzle, which
+penetrated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> every crevice, which insinuated itself down his neck, though
+his collar was upturned; and then, on top of this, came a gusty easterly
+wind, which chilled him to the marrow. Keeping in the shadow of the
+houses opposite, he maintained, however, a careful scrutiny, thereby
+earning the suspicion of a policeman, who passed him twice on his beat
+before he stopped to ask if he were looking for somebody.</p>
+
+<p>As midnight chimed from a neighbouring church the door of the club
+opened and its members came out. Malcolm crossed the road and walked
+down to meet them, since they all seemed to be coming in the same
+direction.</p>
+
+<p>There were about twenty men, and they were speaking in Russian or
+Yiddish, but the subjects of their discourse were of the most innocent
+character. He saw nobody he knew, or had ever seen before. Israel Kensky
+had expected that the St. Petersburg Chief of Police would be present;
+that expectation was not realized. Then he heard the door bolted and
+chained, and went home, after the most unprofitable evening he had ever
+spent.</p>
+
+<p>How much better it would have been to sit in the warm theatre, with,
+perhaps, a clear view of the girl, watching her every movement, seeing
+her smile, noting her little tricks of manner or gesture.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p><p>In the end he laughed himself into a sane condition of mind, ate a
+hearty supper, and went to bed to dream that Serganoff was pursuing him
+with a hammer in his hand, and that the Grand Duchess was sitting in a
+box wildly applauding the efforts of her homicidal relative.</p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon Malcolm Hay was packing, with the remainder of his
+belongings, a few articles he had purchased in London. Amongst these was
+a small and serviceable Colt revolver, and he stood balancing this in
+the palm of his hand, uncertain as to whether it would not be better to
+retain his weapon until after his present adventure. Twice he put it
+into his portmanteau and twice took it out again, and finally, blushing
+at the act, he slipped the weapon into his hip-pocket.</p>
+
+<p>He felt theatrical and cheap in doing so. He told himself that he was
+investing a very common-place measure of precaution taken by old Israel
+Kensky, who was probably in the secret police, to protect his prot&eacute;g&eacute;e,
+with an importance and a romance which it did not deserve. He went down
+to his post that night, feeling horribly self-conscious. This time he
+kept on the same side of the street as that on which the club was
+situated.</p>
+
+<p>His watch was rewarded by events of greater interest than had occurred
+on the previous night. He had not been on duty half an hour before two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+men walked rapidly from the end of the street and passed him so closely
+that he could not make any mistake as to the identity of one. Had he not
+been able to recognize him, his voice would have instantly betrayed his
+identity, for, as they passed, the shorter of the two was talking.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm one of those guys who don't believe in starving to death in a
+delicatessen store&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm looked after the pair in amazement. It was the little man whom
+he had befriended in the courtyard at Charing Cross station. Other
+people drifted through the door in ones and twos, and then a man came
+walking smartly across the street, betraying the soldier at every
+stride. Malcolm turned and strolled in his direction.</p>
+
+<p>There was no mistaking him either, though he was muffled up to the chin.
+With his tight-waisted greatcoat, a glimpse of an olive face with two
+piercing dark eyes, which flashed an inquiring glance as they
+passed&mdash;there was no excuse for error. It was Colonel Prince Serganoff
+beyond a doubt.</p>
+
+<p>A quarter of an hour later came the real shock of the evening. A girl
+was almost on top of him before he saw her, for she was wearing shoes
+which made no sound. He had only time to turn so that she did not see
+his face, before she too entered the door and passed in. The Grand
+Duchess! And Serganoff! And the American adventurer!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>What had these three in common, he wondered. And now he recalled the
+warning of the old man. Perhaps the girl was in danger&mdash;the thought
+brought him to the door, with his hand raised and touching the bell-push
+before he realized his folly. There was nothing to do but wait.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes passed and ten minutes, and then Malcolm Hay became
+conscious of the fact that something unusual was happening in the
+street. It was more thickly populated. Half a dozen men had appeared at
+either end of the street and were moving slowly towards him, as
+though&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>And then in a flash he realized just what was happening. It was a police
+raid. In his student days he had seen such a raid upon a gambling house,
+and he recognized all the signs. He first thought of the girl&mdash;she must
+not be involved in this. He raced toward the door, but somebody had ran
+quicker, and his hand was on the bell-push when he was swung violently
+backwards, and an authoritative voice said:</p>
+
+<p>"Take that man, sergeant."</p>
+
+<p>A hand gripped his shoulder and somebody peered in his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he's English," he said in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," gasped Malcolm. "I'm sorry to interfere, but there is a lady
+in there, in whom I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> rather interested&mdash;you're raiding this club,
+aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's about the size of it," said a man in civilian clothes; and then,
+suspiciously, "Who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm explained his status and calling.</p>
+
+<p>"Take my advice and get away. Don't be mixed up in this business," said
+the officer. "You can release him, sergeant. What's the time?"</p>
+
+<p>A clock struck at that moment, and the officer in charge of the raid
+pressed the bell.</p>
+
+<p>"If you've a lady friend involved in this, perhaps you'd like to stand
+by," he said. "She may want you to bail her out," he added
+good-humouredly.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>PRINCE SERGANOFF PAYS THE PRICE</h3>
+
+<p>Mr. Cherry Bim, a citizen of the world, and an adventurer at large, was
+an optimist to his finger-tips. He also held certain races in profound
+contempt, not because he knew the countries, but because he had met
+representatives of those nations in America, and judged by their
+characteristics.</p>
+
+<p>So that the man called Yakoff, whose task it was to inveigle Mr. Bim
+again to the premises of the Friends of Freedom Club, found to his
+astonishment that Mr. Bim required very little inveigling. The truth
+was, of course, that the gun-man had a supreme contempt for all
+Russians, whom he had classified mistakenly as "Lithanians" and
+"Pollaks." To the fervent promise made by Mr. Yakoff that no harm would
+come to him, Cherry Bim had replied briefly but unprintably.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, there'll be no harm come to me," he said scornfully. "You
+don't think I worry about what that bunch will do? No, sir! But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> I'm
+powerfully disinclined to associate myself with people out of my class.
+It doesn't do a man any good to be seen round with Pollaks and Letts."</p>
+
+<p>Yakoff earnestly implored him to come and give the benefit of his
+experience to the assembly, and had promised him substantial payment.
+This latter argument was one which Cherry Bim could understand and
+appreciate. He accepted on the spot, and came down to the stuffy little
+underground room, expecting no more than to be asked to deliver a
+lecture on the gentle art of assassination. Not that he knew very much
+about it, because Cherry, with three or four men to his credit, had shot
+them in fair fight; but a hundred pounds was a lot of money, and he
+badly needed just enough to shake the mud of England from his shoes and
+seek a land more prolific in possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>The first thing he noticed on arrival was that Boolba, the man who had
+interrogated him before, was not present. In his place sat a smaller
+man, with a straggly black beard and a white face, who was addressed as
+"Nicholas."</p>
+
+<p>The second curious circumstance which struck him was that he was
+received also in an ominous silence.</p>
+
+<p>The black-bearded man, who spoke in perfect English, indicated a chair
+to the left of him.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, comrade," he said. "We have asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> you to come because we
+have another proposition to make to you."</p>
+
+<p>"If it's a croaking proposition, you needn't go any farther," said
+Cherry, "and I won't trouble you with my presence, gents, and&mdash;&mdash;" he
+looked in vain for the woman he had seen before, and added, that he
+might round off his sentence gracefully&mdash;"fellow murderers."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bim," said Nicholas in his curious singsong tone, "does it not make
+your blood boil to see tyranny in high places&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, can that stuff!" said Cherry Bim. "Nothing makes my blood boil, or
+would make my blood boil, except sitting on a stove, I guess. Tyranny
+don't mean any more in my young life than Hennessy, and tyrants more
+than hydrants. I guess I was brought up in a land of freedom and glory,
+where the only tyrant you ever meet is a traffic cop. If this is another
+croaking job, why, gents, I won't trouble you any longer."</p>
+
+<p>He half-rose, but Nicholas pushed him down.</p>
+
+<p>"Not even if it was the Czar?" he said calmly.</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim gaped at him.</p>
+
+<p>"The Czar?" he said, with a queer little grimace to emphasize his
+disbelief in the evidence of his hearing. "What are you getting at?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you shoot the Czar for two thousand pounds?" asked Nicholas.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>Cherry Bim pushed his hat to the back of his head and got up, shaking
+off the protesting arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm through," he said, "and that's all there is to it."</p>
+
+<p>It was at that moment that Serganoff came through the door and Cherry
+Bim remained where he stood, surprised to silence, for the face of the
+newcomer was covered from chin to forehead by a black silk mask.</p>
+
+<p>The door was shut behind him; he walked slowly to the table and dropped
+into a broken chair, Cherry's eyes never leaving his face.</p>
+
+<p>"For fifteen years," said the gun-man, speaking slowly, "I've been a
+crook, but never once have I seen a guy got up like that villain in a
+movie picture. Say, mister, let's have a look at your face."</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim was not the only person perturbed by the arrival of a masked
+stranger. Only three men in the room were in the secret of the
+newcomer's identity, and suspicious and scowling faces were turned upon
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"You will excuse me," said the mask, "but there are many reasons why you
+should not see me or know me again."</p>
+
+<p>"And there's a mighty lot of reasons why you shouldn't know me again,"
+said Cherry, "yet I've obliged you with a close-up of my distinguished
+features."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>"You have heard the proposition," said the man. "What do you think of
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it's a fool proposition," replied Cherry contemptuously. "I've
+told these lads before that I am not falling for the Lucretia Borgia
+stuff, and I'm telling you the same."</p>
+
+<p>The masked man chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't let us quarrel," he said. "Nicholas, give him the money we
+promised."</p>
+
+<p>Nicholas put his hand in his pocket and brought out a roll of notes,
+which he tossed to the man on his left, and Cherry Bim, to whom tainted
+money was as acceptable as tainted pheasant to the epicure, pocketed it
+with a smack of his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, if there's anything I can do for you boys," he said, "here's your
+chance to make use of me. Though I say it myself, there ain't a man in
+New York with my experience, tact and finesse. Show me a job that can be
+done single-handed, with a dividend at the end of it, and I'll show you
+a man who can take it on. In the meantime," said he affably, "the drinks
+are on me. Call the waiter, and order the best in the house."</p>
+
+<p>Serganoff held up his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait," he said; "was that the door?"</p>
+
+<p>Nicholas nodded, and the whole room stood in silence and watched the
+door slowly open. There was a gasp of astonishment, of genuine
+surprise,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> for Irene Yaroslav was well known to them, and it was Irene
+Yaroslav who stood with her back to the door. She wore a long black
+cloak of sable and by her coiffure it was evident that she was wearing
+an evening toilette beneath the cloak.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Israel Kensky?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>She did not immediately see the man in the masked face, for he sat under
+a light and his broad-brimmed hat threw his face into shadow.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody answered her, and she asked again:</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Israel Kensky?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is not here," said Serganoff coolly, as she took two paces and
+stopped dead, clasping her hands before her.</p>
+
+<p>"What does this mean?" she asked. "What are you doing here, Ser&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" His voice was almost a shout, and yet there was a shake in it.</p>
+
+<p>Serganoff realized the danger of his own position, if amongst these men
+were some who had cause to hate him.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not mention my name, Irene."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing here?" she asked. "And where is Israel Kensky?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has not come," Serganoff's voice was uneven and his hands shook.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to go, but he was before her and stood with his back to the
+entrance.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p><p>"You will wait," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What insolence is this?" she demanded haughtily. "I had a letter from
+Israel Kensky telling me to come here under his protection and I should
+learn the truth of the plot against my father."</p>
+
+<p>Serganoff had recovered something of his self-possession and laughed
+softly.</p>
+
+<p>"It was I who sent you that letter, Irene. I sent it because I
+particularly desired you here at this moment."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall pay for this," she said, and tried to force her way past him,
+but his strong hands gripped her and pushed her back.</p>
+
+<p>She turned with a flaming face upon the men.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you men," she asked, "that you allow this villain, who betrayed my
+father and will betray you, to treat a woman so."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke in Russian, and nobody moved. Then a voice said:</p>
+
+<p>"Speak English, miss."</p>
+
+<p>She turned and glanced gratefully at the stout little man with his
+grotesque Derby hat and his good-humoured smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been brought here by a trick," she said breathlessly, "by this
+man"&mdash;she pointed to Serganoff. "Will you help me leave? You're English,
+aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p><p>"American, miss," said Cherry Bim. "And as for helping you, why, bless
+you, you can class me as your own little bodyguard."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" cried Serganoff hoarsely, and instinctively, at the sight of the
+levelled revolver. Cherry's hands went up. "You'll keep out of this and
+do not interfere," said Serganoff. "You'll have all the trouble you want
+before this evening is through. Irene, come here."</p>
+
+<p>At one side of the room was a narrow doorway, which most of the members
+believed led to a cupboard, but which a few knew was a safety bolt in
+case of trouble. The Prince had recognized the door by its description,
+and had edged his way towards it, taking the key from his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>He gripped the girl by the waist, inserted the key and flung open the
+door. She struggled to escape, but the hand that held the key also held
+the revolver, and never once did it point anywhere but at Cherry Bim's
+anatomy.</p>
+
+<p>"Help!" cried the girl. "This man is Serganoff, the Chief of Police at
+Petrograd&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>There was a crash, and the sound of hurrying footsteps. A voice from the
+outer hall screamed, "The police!"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Serganoff dragged the girl through the doorway and
+slammed it behind him. They were in a small cellar, almost entirely
+filled with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> barrels, with only a narrow alley-way left to reach a
+farther door. He dragged her through this apartment, up a short flight
+of stairs. They were on the level of the restaurant, and the girl could
+hear the clatter of plates as he pushed her up another stairway and into
+a room. By its furniture she guessed it was a private dining-room. The
+blinds were drawn and she had no means of knowing whether the apartment
+overlooked the front or the back of the premises.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped long enough to lock the door and then he turned to her,
+slipping off his mask.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you would recognize me," he said coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"What does this outrage mean?" asked the girl with heaving bosom. "You
+shall pay for this, colonel."</p>
+
+<p>"There will be a lot of payment to be made before this matter is
+through," he said calmly. "Calm yourself, Irene. I have saved you from a
+great disgrace. Are you aware that, at the moment I brought you from
+that room, the English police were raiding it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should not have been in the room but for you," she said, "my
+father&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is about your father I want to speak," he said. "Irene, I am the
+sole heir to your father's estate. Beyond the property which is settled
+on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> you, you have nothing. My affection for you is known and approved at
+Court."</p>
+
+<p>"Your affection!" she laughed bitterly. "I'd as soon have the affection
+of a wolf!"</p>
+
+<p>"You could not have a more complete wolf than I," he said meaningly. "Do
+you know what has happened to-night? An anarchist club in London has
+been raided, and the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav has been found in the
+company of men whose object is to destroy the monarchy."</p>
+
+<p>She realized with a sickening sense of disaster all that it meant. She
+knew as well as he in what bad odour her father stood at Court, and
+guessed the steps which would be taken if this matter became public.</p>
+
+<p>"I was brought here by a trick," she said steadily. "A letter came to
+me, as I thought, from Israel Kensky&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was from me," he interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"And you planned the raid, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I planned the raid in the most promising circumstances," he said. "The
+gentleman who offered to be your good knight is a well-known New York
+gun-man. He is wanted by the police, who probably have him in their
+custody at this moment. He was brought here to-night, and an offer was
+made to him, an offer of a large sum<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> of money, on condition that he
+would destroy the Czar."</p>
+
+<p>She gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, my little Irene, that when this gun-man's evidence is taken in
+court, matters will look very bad for the Yaroslav family."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you propose?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"There are two alternatives," he said. "The first is that I should
+arrest you and hand you over to the police. The second is that you
+should undertake most solemnly to marry me, in which case I will take
+you away from here."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a third possibility?" she asked, and he shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," he said familiarly as he flicked a speck of dust from his
+sleeve. "I think you will take the easier way. None of these scum will
+betray you, thinking that you are one of themselves&mdash;as I happen to
+know, some of the best families in Russia are associated with plotters
+of this type. As for the American, who might be inclined to talk, in a
+few weeks he will be on his way to New York to serve a life sentence. I
+have been looking up his record, and particularly drew the attention of
+the English police to the fact that he would be here to-night."</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim, creeping up the stairs in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> stockinged feet&mdash;he had
+marked and shot the fuse-box to pieces before the police came in, and
+had burst his way through the door in the wall&mdash;heard the sound of
+voices in the little room and stopped to listen. It was not a thick
+door, and he could hear Serganoff's voice very clearly. He stooped down
+to the key-hole. Serganoff had not taken the key out, and it was an
+old-fashioned key, the end of which projected an eighth of an inch on
+the other side of the door. Cherry Bim felt in his pocket and produced a
+pair of peculiarly shaped nippers, and gripped the end of the key,
+turning it gently. Then he slipped his handy gun from his pocket and
+waited.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Irene," said Serganoff's voice. "You must decide. In a few minutes
+the police will be up here, for they are instructed to make a complete
+search of the house. I can either explain that you are here to witness
+the raid, or that I have followed you up and arrested you. Which is it
+to be?"</p>
+
+<p>Still she did not answer. Serganoff had laid his revolver on the table
+and this she was man&oelig;uvring to reach. He divined her intention before
+she sprang forward, and, gripping her by the waist, threw her back.</p>
+
+<p>"That will be more useful to me than to you," he said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p><p>"Sure thing it will!" said a voice behind him.</p>
+
+<p>He turned as swift as a cat and fired. The horrified girl heard only one
+shot, so quickly did one report follow another. She saw Cherry Bim raise
+his hand and wipe the blood from his cheek, saw the splinter of wood
+where the bullet had struck behind him; then Serganoff groaned and
+sprawled forward over the table. She dared not look at him, but followed
+Bim's beckoning finger.</p>
+
+<p>"Down the stairs and out of that door, miss," he said, "or the bulls
+will have you."</p>
+
+<p>She did not ask him who the "bulls" were; she could guess. She flew down
+the stairs, with trembling hands unfastened the lock and stepped into
+the street. It was empty, save for two men, and one of these came
+forward to meet her with outstretched hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God you're safe!" he said. "You weren't there, were you?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay was incoherent. The detective who was with him could but
+smile a little, for the girl had come out of the door which, according
+to his instructions, led only to the private dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Take me away," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>He put his arm about her trembling figure, and led her along the street.
+All the time he was in terror lest the police should call her back, and
+desire him to identify her; but nothing happened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> and they gained
+Shaftesbury Avenue and a blessed taxicab.</p>
+
+<p>"To Israel Kensky," she said. "I can't go home like this."</p>
+
+<p>He stretched out of the window and gave fresh instructions.</p>
+
+<p>"I am greatly obliged to you, Mr. Hay," she faltered and then covered
+her face with her hands. "Oh, it was dreadful, dreadful!"</p>
+
+<p>"What happened?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. Then suddenly:</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I must go home. Will you tell the cabman? There is a chance
+that I may get into my suite without Boolba seeing. Will you go on to
+Israel Kensky after you have left me, and tell him what has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded, and again gave the change of instructions.</p>
+
+<p>They reached the hotel at a period when most of the guests were either
+lingering over their dinner or had gone to the theatre.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate leaving you like this," he said; "how do I know that you will
+get in without detection?"</p>
+
+<p>She smiled in spite of her distress.</p>
+
+<p>"You're an inventor, aren't you, Mr. Hay?" she laughed. "But I am afraid
+even you could not invent a story which would convince my father if he
+knew I had been to that horrible place." <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>Presently she said: "My room
+overlooks the street. If I get in without detection I will come to the
+window and wave a handkerchief."</p>
+
+<p>He waited in a fit of apprehension, until presently he saw a light leap
+up to three windows, and her figure appeared. There was a flutter of a
+white handkerchief, and the blinds were drawn. Malcolm Hay drove to
+Maida Vale, feeling that the age of romance was not wholly dead.</p>
+
+<p>To his surprise Kensky had had the news before he reached there.</p>
+
+<p>"Is she safe? Is she safe?" asked the old man tremulously. "Now, thank
+Jehovah for his manifold blessings and mercies! I feared something was
+wrong. Her Highness wrote to me this afternoon, and I did not get the
+letter," said Israel. "They waylaid the messenger, and wrote and told
+her to go to the Silver Lion&mdash;the devils!"</p>
+
+<p>His hand was shaking as he took up the poker to stir the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"He, at any rate, will trouble none of us again," he said with malignant
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"He? Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Serganoff," said the old man. "He was dead when the police found him!"</p>
+
+<p>"And the American?" asked Hay.</p>
+
+<p>"Only Russians were arrested," said Israel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> Kensky. "I do not think I
+shall see him again."</p>
+
+<p>In this he was wrong, though six years were to pass before they met: the
+mystic, Israel Kensky, Cherry Bim the modern knight-errant, and Malcolm
+Hay.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>KENSKY OF KIEFF</h3>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay drew rein half a verst from the Church of St. Andrea. Though
+his shaggy little horse showed no signs of distress, Malcolm kicked his
+feet free from the stirrups and descended, for his journey had been a
+long one, the day was poisonously hot and the steppe across which he had
+ridden, for all its golden beauty, its wealth of blue cornflour and
+yellow genista, had been wearisome. Overhead the sky was an unbroken
+bowl of blue and at its zenith rode a brazen merciless sun.</p>
+
+<p>He took a leather cigar-case from his pocket, extracted a long black
+cheroot and lit it; then, leaving his horse to its own devices, he
+mounted the bank by the side of the road, from whence he could look
+across the valley of the Dneiper. That majestic river lay beneath him
+and to the right.</p>
+
+<p>Before him, at the foot of the long, steep and winding road, lay the
+quarter which is called Podol.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>For the rest his horizon was filled with a jumble of buildings,
+magnificent or squalid; the half-revealed roofs on the wooded slopes of
+the four hills, and the ragged fringe of belfry and glittering cupola
+which made up the picture of Kieff.</p>
+
+<p>The month was June and the year of grace 1914, and Malcolm Hay, chief
+engineer of the Ukraine-American Oil Corporation, had no other thought
+in his mind, as he looked upon the undoubted beauty of Kieff, than that
+it would be a very pleasant place to leave. He climbed the broken stone
+wall and stood, his hands thrust deeply into his breeches pockets,
+watching the scene. It was one of those innumerable holy days which the
+Russian peasant celebrated with such zest. Rather it was the second of
+three consecutive feast days and, as Malcolm knew, there was small
+chance of any work being done on the field until his labourers had taken
+their fill of holiness, and had slept off the colossal drunk which
+inevitably followed this pious exercise.</p>
+
+<p>A young peasant, wearing a sheepskin coat despite the stifling heat of
+the day, walked quickly up the hill leading a laden donkey. The man
+stopped when he was abreast of Malcolm, took a cigarette from the inside
+of his coat and lit it.</p>
+
+<p>"God save you, <i>dudushka</i>," he said cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm was so used to being addressed as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> "little grandfather," and
+that for all his obvious youth, that he saw nothing funny in the
+address.</p>
+
+<p>"God save you, my little man," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>The new-comer was a broad-faced, pleasant-looking fellow with a ready
+grin, and black eyebrows that met above his nose. Malcolm Hay knew the
+type, but to-day being for idleness, he did not dread the man's
+loquacity as he would had it been a working day.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Gleb," introduced the man: "I come from the village of
+Potchkoi where my father has seven cows and a bull."</p>
+
+<p>"God give him prosperity and many calves," said Malcolm mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, <i>gospodar</i>, do you ride into our holy city to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely," said Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will do well to avoid the Street of Black Mud," said Gleb.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm waited.</p>
+
+<p>"I speak wisely because of my name," said the man with calm assurance;
+"possibly your excellence has wondered why I should bear the same name
+as the great saint who lies yonder," he pointed to one of the towering
+belfries shimmering with gold that rose above the shoulder of a distant
+hill. "I am Gleb, the son of Gleb, and it is said that we go back a
+thousand years to the Holy Ones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> Also, it was prophesied by a wise
+woman," said the peasant, puffing out a cloud of smoke and crossing
+himself at the same time, "that I should go the way of holiness and that
+after my death my body should be incorruptible."</p>
+
+<p>"All this is very interesting, little brother," said Malcolm with a
+smile, "but first you must tell me why I should not go into the Street
+of Black Mud."</p>
+
+<p>The man laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Because of Israel Kensky," he said significantly.</p>
+
+<p>You could not live within a hundred miles of Kieff and not know of
+Israel Kensky. Malcolm realized with a start that he had not met the old
+man since he left him in London.</p>
+
+<p>"In what way has Israel Kensky offended?" asked Malcolm, understanding
+the menace in the man's tone.</p>
+
+<p>Gleb, squatting in the dust, brushed his sheepskin delicately with the
+tips of his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Little father," he said, "all men know Israel Kensky is a Jew and that
+he practises secret devil-rites, using the blood of Christian children.
+This is the way of Jews, as your lordship knows. Also he was seen on the
+plains to shoot pigeons, which is a terrible offence, for to shoot a
+pigeon is to kill the Holy Ghost."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>Malcolm knew that the greater offence had not yet been stated and
+waited.</p>
+
+<p>"To-day I think they will kill him if the Grand Duke does not send his
+soldiers to hold the people in check&mdash;or the Grand Duchess, his lovely
+daughter who has spoken for him before, does not speak again."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should they kill Kensky?" asked Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>It was not the first time that Israel Kensky had been the subject of
+hostile demonstrations. The young engineer had heard these stories of
+horrible rites practised at the expense of Christian children, and had
+heard them so often that he was hardened to the repetition.</p>
+
+<p>The grin had left the man's face and there was a fanatical light in the
+solemn eyes when he replied:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Gospodar</i>, it is known that this man has a book which is called 'The
+Book of All-Power!'"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"So the foolish say," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"It has been seen," said the other; "his own daughter, Sophia Kensky,
+who has been baptised in the faith of Our Blessed Lord, has told the
+Archbishop of this book. She, herself, has seen it."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should you kill a man because he has a book?" demanded Malcolm,
+knowing well what the answer would be.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>"Why should we kill him! A thousand reasons, <i>gospodar</i>," cried the man
+passionately; "he who has this book understands the black magic of
+Kensky and the Jews! By the mysteries in this book he is able to torment
+his enemies and bring sorrow to the Christians who oppose him. Did not
+the man Ivan Nickolovitch throw a stone at him, and did not Ivan drop
+dead the next day on his way to mass, aye and turn black before they
+carried him to the hospital? And did not Mishka Yakov, who spat at him,
+suffer almost immediately from a great swelling of the throat so that
+she is not able to speak or swallow to this very day without pain?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm jumped down from the wall and laughed, and it was a helpless
+little laugh, the laugh of one who, for four long years, had fought
+against the superstitions of the Russian peasantry. He had seen the work
+of his hands brought to naught, and a boring abandoned just short of the
+oil because a cross-eyed man, attracted by curiosity, had come and
+looked at the work. He had seen his wells go up in smoke for some
+imaginary act of witchcraft on the part of his foreman, and, though he
+laughed, he was in no sense amused.</p>
+
+<p>"Go with God, little brother," he said; "some day you will have more
+sense and know that men do not practise witchcraft."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I am wiser than you," said Gleb,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> getting up and whistling for
+his donkey, who had strayed up the side lane.</p>
+
+<p>Before Malcolm could reply there was a clatter of hoofs and two riders
+came galloping round the bend of the road making for the town. The first
+of these was a girl, and the man who followed behind was evidently the
+servant of an exalted house, for he wore a livery of green and gold.</p>
+
+<p>Gleb's ass had come cantering down at his master's whistle and now stood
+broadside-on in the middle of the road, blocking the way. The girl
+pulled up her horse with a jerk and, half-turning her head to her
+attendant, she called. The man rode forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Get your donkey out of the way, fool," he boomed in a deep-chested
+roar.</p>
+
+<p>He was a big man, broad-shouldered and stout. Like most Russian domestic
+servants, his face was clean-shaven, but Malcolm, watching the scene
+idly, observed only this about him&mdash;that he had a crooked nose and that
+his hair was a fiery red.</p>
+
+<p>"Gently, gently." It was the girl who spoke and she addressed her
+restive horse in English.</p>
+
+<p>As for Gleb, the peasant, he stood, his hands clasped before him, his
+head humbly hung, incapable of movement, and with a laugh Malcolm jumped
+down from the bank, seized the donkey by his bridle and drew him
+somewhat reluctantly to the side of the road. The girl's horse had been
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>curveting and prancing nervously, so that it brought her to within a
+few paces of Malcolm, and he looked up, wondering what rich man's
+daughter was this who spoke in English to her horse ... only once before
+had he seen her in the light of day.</p>
+
+<p>The face was not pale, yet the colour that was in her cheeks so
+delicately toned with the ivory-white of forehead and neck that she
+looked pale. The eyes, set wide apart, were so deep a grey that in
+contrast with the creamy pallor of brow they appeared black.</p>
+
+<p>A firm, red mouth he noticed; thin pencilling of eyebrows, a tangle of
+dark brown hair; but neither sight of her nor sound of her tired
+drawling voice, gave her such permanence in his mind as the indefinite
+sense of womanliness that clothed her like an aurora.</p>
+
+<p>He responded wonderfully to some mysterious call she made upon the man
+in him. He felt that his senses played no part in shaping his view. If
+he had met her in the dark, and had neither seen nor heard; if she had
+been a bare-legged peasant girl on her way to the fields; if he had met
+her anywhere, anyhow&mdash;she would have been divine.</p>
+
+<p>She, for her part, saw a tall young man, mahogany faced, leanly made, in
+old shooting-jacket and battered Stetson hat. She saw a good forehead
+and an unruly mop of hair, and beneath two eyes, now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> awe-stricken by
+her femininity (this she might have guessed) rather than by her exalted
+rank. They were eyes with a capacity for much laughter, she thought, and
+wished Russian men had eyes like those.</p>
+
+<p>"My horse is afraid of your donkey, I think," she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't my donkey," he stammered, and she laughed again frankly at his
+embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>And then the unexpected happened. With a frightened neigh her horse
+leapt sideways toward him. He sprang back to avoid the horse's hoofs and
+heard her little exclamation of dismay. In the fraction of a second he
+realized she was falling and held out his arms to catch her. For a
+moment she lay on his breast, her soft cheek against his, the
+overpowering fragrance of her presence taking his breath away. Then she
+gently disengaged herself and stepped back. There was colour in her face
+now and something which might have been mischief, or annoyance, or sheer
+amusement, in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was even and did not encourage further advances on his part.</p>
+
+<p>"I lost my balance. Will you hold my horse's head?"</p>
+
+<p>She was back in the saddle and turning, with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> proud little inclination
+of her head, was picking a way down the steep hill before he realized
+what had happened. He gazed after her, hoping at least that feminine
+curiosity would induce her to turn and look back, but in this he was
+disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>The peasant, Gleb, still stood by the side of the road, his hands
+clasped, his head bent as though in a trance.</p>
+
+<p>"Wake up, little monkey," said Malcolm testily. "Why did you not hold
+the horse for the lady whilst I helped her to mount?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Dudushka</i>, it is forbidden, <i>Zaprestcheno</i>," said the man huskily.
+"She is <i>Kaziomne</i>! The property of the Czar!"</p>
+
+<p>"The Czar!" gasped Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>He had lived long enough in Russia to have imbibed some of the awe and
+reverence for that personage.</p>
+
+<p>"Little master," said the man, "it was her Magnificence, the Grand
+Duchess Irene Yaroslav."</p>
+
+<p>"The Grand&mdash;&mdash;!" Malcolm gasped. The reality of his dreams and he had
+not recognized her!</p>
+
+<p>Long after the peasant had departed he stood on the spot where he had
+held her, like a man in a trance, and he was very thoughtful when he
+picked up the reins of his horse and swung himself into the saddle.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>Kieff is built upon many hills and it has the beauty and distinction of
+possessing steeper roads than any other city in Europe. He was on his
+way to the Grand Hotel, and this necessitated his passing through Podol,
+crossing the Hill of the Cliff, and descending into the valley beyond.</p>
+
+<p>Considering it was a feast day the streets were strangely deserted. He
+met a few old men and women in festal garb and supposed that the
+majority of the people were at the shrines in which Kieff abounds. He
+passed through the poorer Jewish quarter, and did not remember the
+peasant's warning not to go into the Street of Black Mud until he had
+turned into that thoroughfare.</p>
+
+<p>Long before he had reached the street he heard the roar of the crowd,
+and knew that some kind of trouble was brewing. The street was filled
+with knots of men and women, and their faces by common attraction, were
+turned in one direction. The focal point was a densely packed crowd
+which swayed toward the gateway of a tall, grim-looking house, which he
+recognized as the home of the millionaire, Kensky.</p>
+
+<p>The roar intensified to a continuous shriek of malignant hate. He saw
+sticks and fists brandished and heard above the scream of frenzied women
+the deep-throated "Kill! Death to the Jew!" which was not unfamiliar to
+one who knew Kieff in moments<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> of religious excitement. It was no
+business of his, and he drew his horse to the side of the street and
+watched, wondering what part the black-bearded Russian priests, who were
+in force and who seemed to form the centre of each knot of idlers, were
+playing in this act of persecution.</p>
+
+<p>On the outskirts of the crowd he observed a green and gold coat, and,
+its wearer turning his head, he recognized him as the swarthy menial who
+had ridden behind the Grand Duchess. He was as violent and as energetic
+as the most lawless, and seemed engaged in pushing men into the crowd
+and dragging forward hesitant bystanders to swell the throng which was
+pressing about the iron gates of the building.</p>
+
+<p>And then Malcolm saw something which brought his heart to his mouth, a
+white hand raised from above the bobbing black heads, a hand raised in
+appeal or command. Instinctively he knew its owner and spurred his horse
+into the throng, sending the people flying in all directions. There was
+a small clear space immediately before the door which enabled him to see
+the two chief actors in the drama long before he was within hailing
+distance.</p>
+
+<p>The space was caused by a dead horse, as he afterwards discovered, but,
+for the moment, his eyes were fixed on the girl who stood with her back
+to the grille, shielding with her frail body a little old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> man,
+white-bearded and bent, who crouched behind her outstretched arms, his
+pale face streaming with blood. A broken key in the grille told the
+story of his foiled attempt to escape. Grimy hands clutched at Malcolm's
+knees as he drove through the press, a stone whistled past his ear and
+shrill voices uttered imprecations at the daring foreigner, but he
+swerved to left and right and made a way until the sight of the dead
+horse brought his frightened mount to a quivering standstill.</p>
+
+<p>He leapt from the saddle and sprang to the girl's side, and to his
+amazement his appearance seemed to strike consternation into her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you come? Get away as quickly as you can," she breathed. "Oh,
+you were mad to come here!"</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but you?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"They will not hurt me," she said rapidly. "It is the old man they want.
+Can you smash the lock and get him inside?"</p>
+
+<p>"Give us the book, Jew," yelled a deep voice above the babel of sound.
+"Give us the book and you shall live! Lady! Magnificence! Make the old
+man give us the book!"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm took a flying kick at the gate and the lock yielded. He half
+lifted, half carried the old man and pushed inside, where another locked
+door confronted them.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>"Have you a key?" demanded Malcolm hurriedly. "Quick!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man felt in his pocket with trembling fingers and in doing so he
+crept behind his guardian. Malcolm now turned and faced the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, for God's sake," he called to the girl, but she shook her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"They will not hurt me," she said over her shoulder; "it is you!"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Malcolm felt something heavy slipped into the loose
+pocket of his jacket and a quivering voice, harsh with fear, whispered
+in his ear:</p>
+
+<p>"Keep it, <i>gospodar</i>. To-morrow I will come for it at the Grand Hotel at
+the middle hour!"</p>
+
+<p>The crowd was now surging forward and the girl was being pressed back
+into the little lobby by their weight. Suddenly the door opened with a
+crack and the old man slipped through.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come," he cried.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm leapt forward, clasped the girl about the waist and swung her
+behind him.</p>
+
+<p>The shrieks of the crowd broke and a new note crept into the pandemonium
+of sound, a note of fear. From outside came a clatter of hoofs on the
+cobbled roadway. There was a flash of red and white pennons, the glitter
+of steel lances and a glimpse of bottle-green coats as half a sotnia of
+Cossacks swept the street clear.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><p>They looked at one another, the girl and the man, oblivious to the
+appeal of hand and voice which the old man in the doorway was offering.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you are very brave," said the girl, "or else very foolish. You
+do not know our Kieff people."</p>
+
+<p>"I know them very well," he said grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"It was equally foolish of me to interfere," she said quickly, "and I
+ought not to blame you. They killed my horse."</p>
+
+<p>She pointed to the dead horse lying before the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Where was your servant?" he asked, but she made no reply. He repeated
+the question, thinking she had not heard and being at some loss for any
+other topic of conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go out," she said, ignoring the query, "we are safe now."</p>
+
+<p>He was following her when he remembered the packet in his pocket and
+turned to the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is your&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, no, keep it," whispered Israel Kensky. "They may come again
+to-night! My daughter told them that I was carrying it. May she roast!"</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" asked Malcolm curiously.</p>
+
+<p>The old man's lips parted in a toothless smile.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the 'Book of All-Power!'"</p>
+
+<p>He blinked up at Malcolm, peering into his face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> expectantly. "They all
+desire it, <i>gospodar</i>, from the Grand Duke in his beautiful palace to
+the <i>moujik</i> in his cellar&mdash;they all desire my lovely book! I trust you
+with it for one night, <i>gospodar</i>, because you are English. Ah, well,
+you are not Russian. Guard it closely, for it holds the secret of tears
+and of happiness. You shall learn how to make men and women your slaves
+and how to turn people into Jews, and how to make men and women adore
+you, ai, ai! There are recipes for beauty in my book which make plain
+women lovely and old men young!"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm could only stare.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GRAND DUKE IS AFFABLE</h3>
+
+<p>The girl's voice called, and Malcolm left old Kensky without a word and
+went to her side. "Will you walk with me to my father's palace?" she
+said. "I do not think it is safe for you to be alone."</p>
+
+<p>A semi-circle of mounted Cossacks surrounded them now, and the
+unfaithful Boolba (such was the servant's name, he learnt) was standing
+with an impassive face holding his horse's head.</p>
+
+<p>"One of the soldiers will take your horse," she said. "Boolba, you will
+follow us."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was stern and she looked the man straight in the eyes, but he
+did not flinch.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Prikazeno</i>, Highness, it is ordered," he said simply.</p>
+
+<p>She turned and walked the way she had come, turning into the big square
+followed by a small escort of Cossacks.</p>
+
+<p>They walked in silence for some time, and it was the girl who first
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p><p>"What do you think of Russia, Mr. Hay?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>He jerked his head round at her in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't know me on the hill," she laughed, "but I knew you! And
+there are not so many foreigners in the Kieff region that you should be
+unknown to the Grand Duke," she said, "and besides, you were at the
+reception which my father gave a year ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not see your Highness there," said Malcolm. "I came
+especially&mdash;&mdash;" he stopped short in confusion.</p>
+
+<p>"That was probably because I was not visible," she replied dryly. "I
+have been to Cambridge for a year to finish my education."</p>
+
+<p>"That is why your English is so good," he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"It's much better than your Russian," she said calmly. "You ought not to
+have said '<i>ukhoditzay</i>' to people&mdash;you only say that to beggars, and I
+think they were rather annoyed with you."</p>
+
+<p>"I should imagine they were," he laughed; "but won't you tell me what
+happened to your servant? I thought I saw him on the outskirts of the
+crowd and the impression I formed was&mdash;&mdash;" he hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't form impressions if I were you," she said hurriedly. "Here
+in Russia one ought not to puzzle one's head over such things. When you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
+meet the inexplicable, accept it as such and inquire no further."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent again, and when she spoke she was more serious.</p>
+
+<p>"The Russian people always impress me as a great sea of lava, boiling
+and spluttering and rolling slowly between frail banks which we have
+built for them," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"I often wonder whether those banks will ever break," said Malcolm
+quietly; "if they do&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"They will burn up Russia," said Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"So I think," said the girl. "Father believes that the war&mdash;&mdash;" she
+stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>"The war?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm had heard rumours so often of the inevitable war which would be
+fought to establish the hegemony of the Slav over Eastern Europe that
+the scepticism in his tone was pardonable. She looked at him sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not think there will be war?"</p>
+
+<p>"One has heard so often," he began.</p>
+
+<p>"I know, I know," she said, a little impatiently, and changed the
+subject.</p>
+
+<p>They talked about the people, the lovable character of the peasants, the
+extraordinary depth of their religious faiths, their amazing
+superstitions, and suddenly Malcolm remembered the book in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> pocket,
+and was about to speak of it, but stopped himself, feeling that, by so
+speaking, he was betraying the confidence of the old man who had
+entrusted his treasure to a stranger's care.</p>
+
+<p>"What is this story of the book of Kensky?"</p>
+
+<p>"'The Book of All-Power'?"</p>
+
+<p>She did not smile as he had expected her to.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Israel Kensky is a curious man," she said guardedly. "The people
+credit him with all sorts of powers which of course he does not possess.
+They believe he is a wizard, that he can bend people to his will. They
+say the most terrible things about the religious ceremonies over which
+he presides."</p>
+
+<p>They were mounting the hill behind which lay the fashionable quarter of
+Kieff with its great stone palaces, its wonderful cherry gardens and
+broad avenues.</p>
+
+<p>"I like old Kensky," she went on; "he sometimes comes to the palace to
+bring new silks&mdash;he is the greatest merchant in Little Russia. He even
+tells me his troubles&mdash;he has a terrible daughter: you have heard about
+her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought she was rather good," said Malcolm humorously. "Isn't she a
+Christian?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl shrugged her shoulders. Evidently her Grand Ducal Highness had
+no great opinion of Sophia Kensky's conversion.</p>
+
+<p>The Grand Ducal palace was built in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>Byzantine style and presented,
+from the broad carriage drive that led from the road, a confusion of
+roofs, windows and bastions, as though the designer had left the working
+out of his plan to fifty different architects, and each architect had
+interpreted the scheme of construction in his own way.</p>
+
+<p>The Grand Duke was standing in the portico as they went through the
+gate, and came down the steps to meet them. He was a mild-looking man of
+medium height and wore pince-nez. Malcolm remembered that on the one
+occasion he had met his Highness he had been disappointed in his lack of
+personal grandeur.</p>
+
+<p>"My child, my child!" said the Duke, coming to the girl with
+outstretched arms. "What a terrible misfortune! How came you to be mixed
+up in this matter? The commandant has just telephoned to me. I have
+called for his resignation. By St. Inokeste, I will not have the rabble
+breathing upon you! And this is the good gentleman who came to your
+rescue?"</p>
+
+<p>He surveyed Malcolm with his cold blue eyes, but both glance and
+intonation lacked the cordiality which his words implied.</p>
+
+<p>"I thank you. I am indeed grateful to you. You understand they would not
+have harmed the Grand Duchess, but this you could not know. As for the
+Jew&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>He became suddenly thoughtful. He had the air of a man wholly
+preoccupied in his secret thoughts and who now emerged from his shell
+under the greatest protest. To Malcolm it seemed that he resented even
+the necessity for communicating his thoughts to his own daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"I am happy to have been of service to your Grand Ducal Highness," said
+Malcolm correctly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, yes," interrupted the Grand Duke nervously, "but you will
+stay and breakfast with me? Come, I insist, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hay, father," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation throughout was carried on in English, which was not
+remarkable, remembering that that was the family language of the Court.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, yes, Mr. Hay, you must stay to breakfast. You have been very
+good, very noble, I am sure. Irene, you must persuade this gentleman."
+He held out his hand jerkily and Malcolm took it with a bow.</p>
+
+<p>Then without another word or even so much as a glance at his daughter,
+the Grand Duke turned and hurried back into the palace, leaving Malcolm
+very astonished and a little uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>The girl saw his embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>"My father does not seem to be very hospitable," she smiled, and once
+more he saw that little gleam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> of mischief in her eyes, "but I will give
+you a warmer invitation."</p>
+
+<p>He spread out his hands in mock dismay and looked down at his untidy
+clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Highness is very generous," he said, "but how can I come to the
+Grand Duke's table like this?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will not see the Grand Duke," she laughed; "father gives these
+invitations but never accepts them himself! He breakfasts in his own
+room, so if you can endure me alone&mdash;&mdash;" she challenged.</p>
+
+<p>He said nothing but looked much, and her eyes fell before his. All the
+time he was conscious that red-haired Boolba stood stiffly behind him, a
+spectator, yet, as Malcolm felt, a participant in this small affair of
+the breakfast invitation. She followed Malcolm's look and beckoned the
+man forward. He had already surrendered the horses to an orderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Take the lord to a guest-room," she said in Russian, "and send a valet
+to attend to him."</p>
+
+<p>"It is ordered," said the man, and with a nod, the girl turned and
+walked into the house, followed at a more leisurely pace by Malcolm and
+the man with the crooked nose.</p>
+
+<p>Boolba led the way up a broad flight of stairs, carpeted with thick red
+pile, along a corridor pierced at intervals with great windows, to
+another corridor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> leading off and through a door which, from its
+dimensions, suggested the entrance to a throne-room, into a suite
+gorgeously furnished and resplendent with silver electroliers. It
+consisted of a saloon leading into a bedroom, which was furnished in the
+same exquisite taste. A further door led to a marble-tiled bathroom.</p>
+
+<p>"Such luxury!" murmured Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Has the <i>gospodar</i> any orders?"</p>
+
+<p>It was the solemn Boolba who spoke. Malcolm looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me this, Boolba," he said, falling into the familiar style of
+address which experience had taught him was the correct line to follow
+when dealing with Russian servants, "how came it that your mistress was
+alone before the house of Israel Kensky, the Jew, and you were on the
+outskirts of the crowd urging them on?"</p>
+
+<p>If the man felt any perturbation at the bluntness of the question he did
+not show it.</p>
+
+<p>"Kensky is a Jew," he said coolly; "on the night of the Pentecost he
+takes the blood of new-born Christian babies and sprinkles his money so
+that it may be increased in the coming year. This Sophia Kensky, his own
+daughter, has told me."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"You are no ignorant <i>moujik</i>, Boolba," he said contemptuously, "you
+have travelled with his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> Highness all over the world." (This was a shot
+at a venture, but apparently was not without justification.) "How can
+you, an educated man of the people, believe such rubbish?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has a book, <i>gospodar</i>," said Boolba, "and we people who desire
+power would have that book, for it teaches men how they may command the
+souls of others, so that when they lift their little fingers, those who
+hate them best shall obey them."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm looked at him in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe this?"</p>
+
+<p>For the first time a smile crossed the face of the man with the crooked
+nose. It was not a pleasant smile to see, for there was cunning in it
+and a measureless capacity for cruelty.</p>
+
+<p>"Who knows all the miracles and wonders of the world?" he said. "My lord
+knows there is a devil, and has he not his angels on earth? It is best
+to be sure of these things, and we cannot be certain&mdash;until we have seen
+the book which the Jew gave to your lordship."</p>
+
+<p>He paused a little before uttering the last sentence which gave his
+assertion a special significance. Malcolm eyed him narrowly.</p>
+
+<p>"The Jew did not give me any book, Boolba," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought your lordship&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p><p>"You thought wrongly," said Malcolm shortly.</p>
+
+<p>Boolba bowed and withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>The situation was not a particularly pleasant one. Malcolm had in his
+possession a book which men were willing to commit murder to obtain, and
+he was not at all anxious that his name should be associated with the
+practice of witchcraft.</p>
+
+<p>It was all ridiculous and absurd, of course, but then in Russia nothing
+was so absurd that it could be lightly dismissed from consideration. He
+walked to the door and turned the key, then took from his pocket the
+thing which Israel Kensky had slipped in. It was a thick, stoutly bound
+volume secured by two brass locks. The binding was of yellow calf, and
+it bore the following inscription in Russian stamped in gold lettering:</p>
+
+<p class="center">"THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER."</p>
+
+<p>"Herein is the magic of power and the words and symbols which unlock the
+sealed hearts of men and turn their proud wills to water."</p>
+
+<p>On the bottom left-hand corner of the cover was an inscription in
+Hebrew, which Malcolm could not read, but which he guessed stood for the
+birth-name of Israel Kensky. He turned the book over in his hand, and,
+curiosity overcoming him, he tried to force his thumb-nail into the
+marbled edge of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> leaves that he might secure a glimpse of its
+contents. But the book was too tightly bound, and after another careful
+examination, he pulled off his coat and started to make himself
+presentable for breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>The little meal was wholly delightful. Besides Malcolm and the girl
+there were present a faded Russian lady, whom he guessed was her
+official chaperon, and a sour-visaged Russian priest who ceremoniously
+blessed the food and was apparently the Grand Duke's household chaplain.
+He did not speak throughout the meal, and seemed to be in a condition of
+rapt contemplation.</p>
+
+<p>But for all Malcolm knew there might have been a hundred people
+present&mdash;he had eyes and ears only for the girl. She had changed to a
+dark blue costume beneath which was a plain white silk blouse cut deeply
+at the neck.</p>
+
+<p>He was struck by the fact that she wore no jewels, and he found himself
+rejoicing at the absence of rings in general and of one ring in
+particular.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, it was all lunacy, sheer clotted madness, as he told himself,
+but this was a day to riot in illusions, for undreamt-of things had
+happened, and who could swear that the days of fairies had passed? To
+meet a dream-Irene on his way to Kieff was unlikely, to rescue her from
+an infuriated mob (for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> though they insisted that she was in no danger
+he was no less insistent that he rescued her, since this illusion was
+the keystone to all others), to be sitting at lunch with such a vision
+of youthful loveliness&mdash;all these things were sufficiently outside the
+range of probabilities to encourage the development of his dream in a
+comfortable direction.</p>
+
+<p>"To-night," thought he, "I shall be eating a prosaic dinner at the Grand
+Hotel, and the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav will be a remote personage
+whom I shall only see in the picture papers, or possibly over the heads
+of a crowd on her way to the railway station."</p>
+
+<p>And so he was outrageously familiar. He ceased to "Highness" her,
+laughed at her jokes and in turn provoked her to merriment. The meal
+came to an end too soon for him, but not too soon for the nodding
+dowager nor the silent, contemplating priest, who had worn through his
+period of saintly abstraction and had grown most humanly impatient.</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked at her watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious," she said, "it is four o'clock and I have promised to go
+to tennis." (Malcolm loathed tennis from that hour.)</p>
+
+<p>He took his leave of her with a return to something of the old
+ceremonial.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Grand Ducal Highness has been most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> gracious," he said, but she
+arrested his eloquence with a little grimace.</p>
+
+<p>"Please, remember, Mr. Hay, that I shall be a Grand Ducal Highness for
+quite a long time, so do not spoil a very pleasant afternoon by being
+over-punctilious."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will call you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He came to a dead end, and the moment was embarrassing for both, though
+why a Grand Ducal Highness should be embarrassed by a young engineer she
+alone might explain.</p>
+
+<p>Happily there arrived most unexpectedly the Grand Duke himself, and if
+his appearance was amazing, as it was to judge by the girl's face, his
+geniality was sensational.</p>
+
+<p>He crossed the hall and gripped the young man's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not going, Mr. Hay?" he asked. "Come, come, I have been a very
+bad host, but I do not intend to let you go so soon! I have much that I
+want to talk to you about. You are the engineer in charge of the Ukraine
+Oil Field, is it not so? Excellent! Now, I have oil on my estate in the
+Urals but it has never been developed...."</p>
+
+<p>He took the young man by the arm and led him through the big doors to
+the garden, giving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> him no chance to complete or decently postpone his
+farewell to the girl, who watched with undisguised amazement this
+staggering affability on the part of her parent.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HAND AT THE WINDOW</h3>
+
+<p>An hour later she came from tennis, to find her father obviously bored
+almost to the point of tears, yet making an heroic attempt to appear
+interested in Malcolm's enthusiastic dissertation of the future of the
+oil industry. The Grand Duke rose gladly on her appearance, and handed
+him over.</p>
+
+<p>"I have persuaded Mr. Hay to dine with us to-night, and I have sent to
+the hotel for his baggage. He is most entertaining, my little love, most
+entertaining. Persuade him to talk to you about&mdash;er&mdash;oil and things,"
+and he hurriedly withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>The girl sat down on the seat he had vacated.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a most amazing person, Mr. Hay," she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"So I have been told," said Malcolm, as he filled a glass with tea from
+the samovar.</p>
+
+<p>"You have also a good opinion of yourself, it seems," she said calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you think I am amazing, anyway?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> said he recklessly, returning
+to the relationships they had established at luncheon.</p>
+
+<p>"Because you have enchanted my father," she said.</p>
+
+<p>She was not smiling now, and a troubled little frown gathered on her
+brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Please tell me your magic."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it is the book," he said jestingly.</p>
+
+<p>"The book!" she looked up sharply. "What book?"</p>
+
+<p>And then, as a light dawned on her, she rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"You have&mdash;you have Israel Kensky's book?" she whispered in horror.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Here with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, here," he slapped his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down slowly and reached out her hand, and he thought it shook.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know who was the madder&mdash;Israel Kensky to give it to you or
+you to take it," she said. "This is the only house in Kieff where your
+life is safe, and even here&mdash;&mdash;" She stopped and shook her head. "Of
+course, you're safe here," she smiled, "but I wish the book were
+somewhere else."</p>
+
+<p>She made no further reference either to the amazing volume or to her
+father, and that night, when he came down to dinner, feeling more on
+level<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> terms with royalty (though his dress-suit was four years old and
+his patent shoes, good enough for such mild society functions as came
+his way, looked horribly cracked and shabby), he dismissed the matter
+from his mind. The dinner party was a large one. There were two bishops,
+innumerable popes, several bejewelled women, an officer or two and the
+inevitable duenna. He was introduced to them all, but remembered only
+Colonel Malinkoff, a quiet man whom he was to meet again.</p>
+
+<p>To his amazement he found that he had been seated in the place of
+honour, to the right of the Grand Duke, but he derived very little
+satisfaction from that distinction, since the girl was at the other end
+of the table.</p>
+
+<p>She looked worried and her conversation, so far as he could hear,
+consisted of "yes" and "no" and conventional expressions of agreement
+with the views of her companions.</p>
+
+<p>But the duke was loquacious, and at an early stage of the dinner the
+conversation turned on the riot of the morning. There was nothing
+remarkable in the conversation till suddenly the Grand Duke, without
+preliminary, remarked in a matter-of-fact tone:</p>
+
+<p>"The danger is that Kensky may very well use his evil powers against the
+welfare of Holy Church."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p><p>There was a murmur of agreement from the black-bearded popes, and
+Malcolm opened his eyes in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"But surely your Highness does not believe that this man has any
+supernatural gift."</p>
+
+<p>The Grand Duke stared at him through his glasses.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," he said, "if there are miracles of the Church why should
+there not be performed miracles by the Powers of Darkness? Here in
+Kieff," he went on, "we have no reason to doubt that miracles are
+performed every day. Who doubts that worship at the shrine of St.
+Barbara in the Church of St. Michael of the Golden Head protects us
+against lightning?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is undoubtedly the fact, your Imperial Highness," said a stout
+pope, speaking with his mouth full. "I have seen houses with lightning
+conductors struck repeatedly, and I have never known any place to be
+touched by lightning if the master of the house was under the protection
+of St. Barbara."</p>
+
+<p>"And beneath the Church of Exaltation," the Grand Duke went on, "more
+miracles have been performed than elsewhere in the world."</p>
+
+<p>He peered round the table for contradiction.</p>
+
+<p>"It was here that the Two Brothers are buried and it was their prayer
+that they should sleep together in the same grave. One died before the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
+other, and when the second had passed away and they carried his body to
+the tomb, did not the body of the first brother arise to make room? And
+is there not a column in the catacomb to which, if a madman is bound, he
+recovers his reason? And are there not skulls which exude wonderful oils
+which cure men of the most terrible diseases, even though they are on
+the point of death?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm drew a long breath. He could understand the superstitious
+reverence of the peasant for these relics and miracles, but these were
+educated men. One of them stood near to the throne and was versed in the
+intricacies of European diplomacy. These were no peasants steeped in
+ignorance, but intellectuals. He pinched himself to make sure that he
+was awake as the discussion grew and men swopped miracles in much the
+same spirit of emulation as store-loafers swop lies. But the
+conversation came back to him, led thereto by the Grand Duke, and once
+more it centred on that infernal book. The volume in question was not
+six inches from the Grand Duke, for Malcolm had stuffed it into his tail
+pocket before he came down to dinner, and this fact added a certain
+piquancy to the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not doubt, your Highness," said a stout bishop, who picked his
+teeth throughout the dinner, "that Kensky's book is identical with a
+certain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> volume on devil worship which the blessed Saint Basil publicly
+denounced and damned. It was a book especially inspired by Satan, and
+contained exact rules, whereby he who practised the magic could bind in
+earthly and immortal obedience the soul of anybody he chose, thus
+destroying in this life their chance of happiness and in the life to
+come their souls' salvation."</p>
+
+<p>All within reach of the bishop's voice crossed themselves three times.</p>
+
+<p>"It would have been well," mused the Grand Duke, "if the people had
+succeeded this morning."</p>
+
+<p>He shot a glance at Malcolm, a glance full of suspicious inquiry, but
+the young man showed no sign either of resentment or agreement. But he
+was glad when the dinner ended and the chance came to snatch a few words
+with the girl. The guests were departing early, and kummel and coffee
+was already being served on a large silver salver by the <i>buffetschek</i>,
+whom Malcolm recognized as the ubiquitous Boolba.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not see you again," said the girl in a low voice. "I am going
+to my room. But I want you to promise me something, Mr. Hay."</p>
+
+<p>"The promise is made before you ask," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to leave as early as you possibly can to-morrow morning for
+your mine, and if I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> send you word I want you to leave Russia without
+delay."</p>
+
+<p>"But this is very astonishing."</p>
+
+<p>She faced him squarely, her hands behind her back.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hay," she said, and her low voice was vibrant with feeling, "you
+have entangled yourself in an adventure which cannot possibly end well
+for you. Whatever happens, you cannot come out with credit and safety,
+and I would rather you came out with credit."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I will make it plainer," said she. "Unless something happens in the
+next month or two which will point the minds of the people to other
+directions, you will be suspect. The fact that you have the book is
+known."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"By whom?" she asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"By Boolba, your servant."</p>
+
+<p>She raised her hand to her lips, as if to suppress a cry. It was an odd
+little trick of hers which he had noticed before.</p>
+
+<p>"Boolba," she repeated. "Of course! That explains!"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the Grand Duke called him. The guests had dwindled away
+to half a dozen.</p>
+
+<p>"Your coffee, Mr. Hay, and some of our wonderful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> Russian kummel. You
+will not find its like in any other part of the world."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm drank the coffee, gulped down the fiery liqueur, and replaced
+the glass on the tray. He did not see the girl again, and half an hour
+later he went up to his room, locked the door and undressed himself
+slowly, declining the assistance which had been offered to him by the
+trained valet.</p>
+
+<p>From the open window came the heavy perfume of heliotrope, but it was
+neither the garden scent nor the moderate quantity of wine he had taken,
+nor the languid beauty of the night, which produced this delicious
+sensation of weariness. He undressed and got into his pyjamas, then sat
+at the end of his bed, his head between his hands.</p>
+
+<p>He had sat for a long time like this, before he realized the strangeness
+of his attitude and getting on to his feet, found himself swaying.</p>
+
+<p>"Doped," he said, and sat down again.</p>
+
+<p>There was little of his brain that was awake, but that little he worked
+hard. He had been drugged. It was either in the kummel or in the coffee.
+Nothing but dope would make him feel as he was feeling now. He fell into
+bed and pulled the clothes about him. He wanted to keep awake to fight
+off the effects of the stuff and, by an absurd perversion of reasoning,
+he argued that he was in a more favourable position to carry out his
+plan if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> he made himself comfortable in bed, than if he followed any
+other course.</p>
+
+<p>The drug worked slowly and erratically. He had moments of complete
+unconsciousness with intervals which, if they were not free from the
+effect of the agent, were at least lucid. One such interval must have
+come after he had been in bed for about an hour, for he found himself
+wide awake and lay listening to the thumping of his heart, which seemed
+to shake the bed.</p>
+
+<p>The room was bathed in a soft green light, for it was a night of full
+moon. He could see dimly the furniture and the subdued gleam of silver
+wall-sconce, that caught the ghostly light and gave it a more mysterious
+value. He tried to rise but could not. To roll his head from side to
+side seemed the limitation of conscious effort.</p>
+
+<p>And whilst he looked, the door opened noiselessly and closed again.
+Somebody had come into the room, and that somebody passed softly across
+the foot of the bed, and stood revealed against the window. Had he been
+capable of speech he would have cried out.</p>
+
+<p>It was the girl!</p>
+
+<p>He saw her plainly in a moment. She wore a wrapper over her nightdress,
+and carried a small electric lamp in her hand. She went to the chair
+where he had thrown his clothes and made a search.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> He saw her take
+something out and put it under her wrap, then she went back the way she
+came, pausing for the space of a second at the foot of his bed.</p>
+
+<p>She stood there undecidedly, and presently she came up to the side of
+the bed and bent down over him. His eyes were half closed; he had
+neither the power of opening or shutting them, but he could see clearly
+the white hand that rested on the bed and the book that it held, and the
+polished table by the bedside reflecting the moonlight back to her face
+so that she seemed something as intangible and as shadowy as the night
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>A little smile played upon her pale face, and every whispered word she
+uttered was clear and distinct.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, poor Mr. Hay," she said softly.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head as though in pity; then, stopping swiftly, she kissed
+him on the cheek and passed quickly to the half-open door by which she
+had entered. She was nearing the door when she stopped dead and shrank
+back toward the bed. Another electric lamp gleamed unexpectedly. He saw
+the white of her nightdress show as a dazzling strip of light where the
+beam caught it. Then the unknown intruder touched on the light, and they
+stood revealed, the girl tall, imperious, a look of scorn on her
+beautiful face, and the stout menial with the crooked nose.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p><p>Boolba wore an old dressing-gown girdled about with a soiled rainbow
+sash. His feet were bare, and in his two hands laying from palm to palm
+was a long thin knife.</p>
+
+<p>At the sight of the girl he fell back, a grotesque sprawling movement
+which was not without its comicality. A look of blank bewilderment
+creased his big face.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you, Highness!" he croaked. "The Jew, where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>She was silent. Malcolm saw the quick rise and fall of her bosom, saw
+the book clutched closer to her side beneath the filmy silken gown.</p>
+
+<p>Boolba looked from the girl to Malcolm, from Malcolm to the heavy
+curtains at either side of the open window&mdash;curtains which the drugged
+man had not drawn.</p>
+
+<p>"He has left his quarters, Highness," Boolba spoke eagerly; "he was seen
+to enter the grounds of the palace&mdash;where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>He took a step toward her.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand back&mdash;you slave!" she breathed, but with a bound he was upon her.
+There was a brief struggle, and the book was wrenched from her hand.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm saw all this, but lay as one dead. He was conscious but
+paralysed by the potion, and could only watch the girl in the grip of
+the obese<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> monster and feel his heart going like a steam hammer.</p>
+
+<p>Boolba stood gloating over his prize, fondling the book in his big,
+coarse hands. Malcolm wondered why the girl did not scream&mdash;yet how
+could she? She was in his room in the middle of the night, she, a
+daughter of emperors.</p>
+
+<p>The man tried to wrench open the locks which held the covers, but
+failed. Suddenly he looked up, and glared across at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>He said nothing, but the suspicion in that scowl was emphasized when he
+moved to the wall near the window and the light of a bracket lamp.</p>
+
+<p>Again he examined the book and for the first time spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Highness, was it you who sent for Israel Kensky that the book
+should be restored&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>So far he got when an arm came from behind the curtain&mdash;a hand
+blue-veined, and it held a yellow handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>The girl saw it, and her hand went to her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Then the handkerchief struck full across Boolba's face, covering it from
+forehead to the mouth.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the man was paralysed, then he pulled the handkerchief away
+and clawed at the clay-like substance which adhered to his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother of God!"</p>
+
+<p>He screamed the words and, dropping the book,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> stumbled forward, rubbing
+at his face, shrieking with pain.</p>
+
+<p>The girl ran swiftly through the open door, for feet were now pattering
+along the corridors and the flicker of lights showed through the
+doorway. Boolba was rolling on the ground in agony when the servants
+crowded in, followed by the Grand Duke&mdash;and he alone was fully dressed.</p>
+
+<p>"Boolba&mdash;what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"The book&mdash;the book! It is mine! See ... floor!"</p>
+
+<p>But the book had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Where, Boolba&mdash;where, my good Boolba?" The voice of Boolba's master was
+tremulous. "Show me&mdash;did he strike you&mdash;he shall suffer, by the saints!
+Look for it, Boolba!"</p>
+
+<p>"Look! Look!" yelled the writhing man. "How shall I look? I who am
+blind&mdash;blind&mdash;blind!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3>TERROR IN MAKING</h3>
+
+<p>In the spring of 1919 Malcolm Hay came out from the Kursky Voksal
+carrying his own well-worn valise. An indifferent cigar was clenched
+between his white teeth, and there was a sparkle of amusement in his
+grave eyes. He stood seventy inches in his stockings, and an excellent
+judge of men who looked him over, noted the set and width of shoulders,
+the upward lift of chin, the tanned face and flexibility of body, marked
+him down "soldier"&mdash;either American or English.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm looked up and down the deserted street and then caught the eye
+of the solitary <i>intooski</i>, a thoughtful-looking man with a short,
+square beard, looking monstrously stout in his padded green coat, the
+livery of the Moscow drosky driver.</p>
+
+<p>The man on the sidewalk smiled and walked across the pavement.</p>
+
+<p>"Little brother," he said in fluent Russian, "would you condescend to
+drive me to the Hotel du Bazar Slav?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p><p>The driver who had noted so approvingly the shape of Malcolm's
+shoulders did not immediately answer; then:</p>
+
+<p>"British?&mdash;I thought you were."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke excellent English, and Malcolm looked up at him bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"I seem to know your face, too&mdash;let me think."</p>
+
+<p>The cab-driver tapped his bearded chin.</p>
+
+<p>"I have it&mdash;Hay. I met you four years ago at a dinner party in
+Kieff&mdash;you are the manager of an oil company or something of the sort."</p>
+
+<p>"Right," said the astonished young man, "but&mdash;I don't exactly place
+you."</p>
+
+<p>The drosky driver smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet I dined with you," he said. "I sat next the Grand Duchess
+Irene&mdash;later, when war broke out, I invited you to my headquarters."</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" Malcolm's jaw dropped. "General Malinkoff!"</p>
+
+<p>"Commanding the 84th Caucasian Division," said the bearded man dryly,
+"and now commanding one little horse. If you will get into my excellent
+cab I will drive you to a restaurant where we may eat and drink and be
+almost merry for&mdash;fifty roubles."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm stepped into the little drosky like a man in a dream. Malinkoff!
+He remembered him, a fine figure on a horse, riding through Kieff at
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> head of a glittering throng of staff officers. There was a function
+at the Grand Hotel to meet the new Commander, a great parade at that
+ancient palace in his honour&mdash;Malcolm had come in from the oil-fields
+partly to meet him at dinner&mdash;partly for news of one who had of a sudden
+vanished from his life.</p>
+
+<p>The drosky drove furiously through the east end of the town, and the
+passenger noted that the driver was careful to avoid the big
+thoroughfares which led to the Krasnaya Plotzad and that centre of
+Moscow which is the Kremlin.</p>
+
+<p>Presently it drew up before a small eating-house in a poor street, and
+the driver hoisted himself to the ground. He left his horse unattended
+and, leading the way, pushed open the swing doors of the restaurant and
+passed down a long, low-ceilinged room crowded with diners, to a table
+at the far end.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Mr. Hay. I can promise you a fair but by no means sybarite
+feast&mdash;good morning, Nicholas Vassilitsky."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded pleasantly to a grey-haired man in a workman's blouse sitting
+at the next table, and the man addressed rose stiffly, bowed and sat
+down.</p>
+
+<p>"If you wish your clothes valeted whilst you are in Moscow, I recommend
+my friend," said the driver, snapping his fingers towards a stout
+waitress. "Colonel Nicholas Vassilitsky is not only an excellent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+Director of Military Intelligence but he can press a pair of trousers
+with any man."</p>
+
+<p>He gave his orders briefly, and turned to his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"First of all, let me interrogate you. You are on your way to
+Petrograd?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I am on my way home. During the war I have been controlling allied
+supplies in Little Russia&mdash;the Revolution stopped that."</p>
+
+<p>"Fortunate man&mdash;to have a country," said General Malinkoff, and he spoke
+seriously and without bitterness. "A country and an army&mdash;coherent,
+disciplined comrades in arms."</p>
+
+<p>He shrugged his padded shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;you are on your way to your home? It will take you months to leave
+the country&mdash;if you ever leave it. I tried to leave last month. I am a
+reactionary with a leaning toward discipline. I cannot breathe the air
+of democracy. I used to think I had Liberal ideas. There was a time when
+I thought that a day would dawn when the world would be a great United
+States of Free People. Ah, well&mdash;I am still a reactionary."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm knew that behind those grave eyes was a world of laughter, that
+beneath the solemn words was a gentle irony, and yet for the while he
+could not distinguish how much of tragedy there was in the man's fun.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p><p>"But why are you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Driving a cab?" The general finished the sentence. "Because, my friend,
+I am human. I must eat, for example; I must have a room to sleep in. I
+need cigarettes, and clean shirts at least three times a week&mdash;for God's
+sake never let that be known. I must also have warm clothes for the
+winter&mdash;in fact, I must live."</p>
+
+<p>"But haven't you&mdash;money?" Malcolm felt all a decent man's embarrassment.
+"Forgive me butting into your affairs, but naturally I'm rather hazed."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally," laughed the general. "A bottle of kavass, my peach of
+Turkistan, and a glass for our comrade."</p>
+
+<p>"Long live the Revolution!" wheezed the waitress mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>"Long may it live, little mother!" responded the general.</p>
+
+<p>When the girl had gone he squared round to his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no shame, Mr. Hay&mdash;I'm going to let you pay for your own dinner
+because I cannot in these democratic times pauperize you by paying for
+you. No, I have no money. My balance in the State bank has been
+confiscated to the sacred cause of the people. My estate, a hundred
+versts or so from Moscow, confiscated to the sacred cause of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
+Revolution, my house in Petrograd is commandeered to the sacred service
+of the Soviet."</p>
+
+<p>"But your command?"</p>
+
+<p>The general did not smile now. He laid down his knife and fork and threw
+a glance behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"The men began shooting their officers in March, 1917," he said,
+lowering his voice. "They executed the divisional staff in May&mdash;the
+democratic spirit was of slow growth. They spared me because I had
+written a book in my youth urging popular government and had been
+confined in the fortess of Vilna for my crime. When the army was
+disbanded I came to Moscow, and the cab was given to me by a former
+groom of mine, one Isaac Mosservitch, who is now a judge of the high
+court and dispenses pretty good law, though he cannot sign his own
+name."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hay," he went on earnestly, "you did wrong to come to Moscow. Get
+back to Kieff and strike down into the Caucasus. You can reach the
+American posts outside of Tiflis. You'll never leave Russia. The
+Bolsheviks have gone mad&mdash;blood-mad, murder-mad. Every foreigner is
+suspect. The Americans and the English are being arrested. I can get you
+a passport that will carry you to Odessa, and you can reach Batoum, and
+Baku from there."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm leant back in his chair and looked thoughtfully at the other.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p><p>"Is it so bad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bad! Moscow is a mad-house. Listen&mdash;do you hear anything?"</p>
+
+<p>Above the hum of conversation Malcolm caught a sound like the cracking
+of whips.</p>
+
+<p>"Rifle-firing," said the general calmly. "There's a counter-revolution
+in progress. The advanced Anarchists are in revolt against the
+Bolsheviks. There is a counter-revolution every morning. We cab-drivers
+meet after breakfast each day and decide amongst ourselves which of the
+streets shall be avoided. We are pretty well informed&mdash;Prince
+Dalgoursky, who was a captain in the Preopojensky Guard, sells
+newspapers outside the Soviet headquarters, and the comrades give him
+tips. One of these days the comrades will shoot him, but for the moment
+he is in favour, and makes as much as a hundred roubles a day."</p>
+
+<p>The waitress came to the table, and the conversation momentarily ceased.
+When she had gone Malcolm put the question which he had asked so often
+in the past four years.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you give me any news of the Grand Duke Yaroslav?"</p>
+
+<p>The other shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"His Highness was in Petrograd when I heard of him last."</p>
+
+<p>"And&mdash;and his daughter? She has been with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> the Russian Red Cross on the
+Riga front, I know."</p>
+
+<p>The bearded man shot a queer glance at his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"In what circumstances did you see her last?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>He could hardly tell a stranger of that tragic scene which was enacted
+in his bedroom. From the moment she had fled through the door he had not
+set eyes upon her. In the morning when he had wakened, feeling sick and
+ill, he had been told that the Grand Duke and his daughter had left by
+the early northern express for the capital. Of Boolba, that hideously
+blinded figure, he heard nothing. When he inquired for Israel Kensky,
+men shrugged and said that he had "disappeared." His house was closed
+and the old man might be in prison or in hiding. Later he was to learn
+that Kensky had reappeared in Moscow, apparently without hindrance from
+the authorities. As for Boolba, he had kept his counsel.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem embarrassed," smiled Malinkoff. "I will tell you why I ask.
+You know that her Grand Ducal Highness was banished from Court for
+disobedience to the royal will?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing&mdash;absolutely nothing. Kieff<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> and Odessa are full of
+refugees and rumours, but one is as much a suspect as the other."</p>
+
+<p>"She would not marry&mdash;that is all. I forget the name of the exalted
+personage who was chosen for her, though I once helped to carry him up
+to bed&mdash;he drank heavily even in those days. God rest him! He died like
+a man. They hung him in a sack in Peter and Paul, and he insulted the
+Soviets to the last!"</p>
+
+<p>"So&mdash;so she is not married?"</p>
+
+<p>The general was silent, beckoning the waitress.</p>
+
+<p>"My little dear," he said, "what shall I pay you?"</p>
+
+<p>She gave him the scores and they settled.</p>
+
+<p>"Which way now?" asked the general.</p>
+
+<p>"I hardly know&mdash;what must a stranger do before he takes up his abode?"</p>
+
+<p>"First find an abode," said the general with a meaning smile. "You asked
+me to drive you to the Hotel Bazar Slav, my simple but misguided friend!
+That is a Soviet headquarters. You will certainly go to a place adjacent
+to the hotel to register yourself, and afterwards to the Commissary to
+register all over again, and, if you are regarded with approval, which
+is hardly likely, you will be given a ticket which will enable you to
+secure the necessities of life&mdash;the tickets are easier to get than the
+food."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>The first call at the house near the Bazar Slav gave them neither
+trouble nor results. The Soviet headquarters was mainly concerned with
+purely administrative affairs, and the organization of its membership.
+Its corridors and doorway were crowded with soldiers wearing the
+familiar red armlet, and when Malinkoff secured an interview with a
+weary looking and unkempt official, who sat collarless in his shirt
+sleeves at a table covered with papers, that gentleman could do no more
+than lean back in his chair and curse the interrupters volubly.</p>
+
+<p>"We might have dispensed with the headquarters visit," said Malinkoff,
+"but it is absolutely necessary that you should see the Commissary
+unless you want to be pulled out of your bed one night and shot before
+you're thoroughly awake. By the way, we have an interesting American in
+gaol&mdash;by his description I gather he is what you would call a gun-man."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm stared.</p>
+
+<p>"Here&mdash;a gun-man?"</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"He held up the Treasurer-General of the Soviet and relieved him of his
+wealth. I would like to have met him&mdash;but I presume he is dead. Justice
+is swift in Moscow, especially for those who hold up the officials of
+the Revolution."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>"What sort of justice do these people administer?" asked Malcolm
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff shrugged his padded shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes I think that the very habit of justice is dead in this land,"
+he said. "On the whole they are about as just and fair as was the old
+regime&mdash;that is not saying much, is it? The cruelty of our rule to-day
+is due rather to ignorance than to ill will. A few of the men higher up
+are working off their old grievances and are profiting enormously, but
+the rank and file of the movement are labouring for the millennium."</p>
+
+<p>"I think they're mad," said Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"All injustice is mad," replied Malinkoff philosophically. "Now get into
+my little cab, and I will drive you to the Commissary."</p>
+
+<p>The Commissary occupied a large house near the Igerian Gate. It was a
+house of such noble proportions that at first Malcolm thought it was one
+of the old public offices, and when Malinkoff had drawn up at the gate
+he put the question.</p>
+
+<p>"That is the house of the Grand Duke Yaroslav," said Malinkoff quietly.
+"I think you were inquiring about him a little earlier in the day."</p>
+
+<p>The name brought a little pang to Malcolm's heart, and he asked no
+further questions. There was a sentry on the <i>podyasde</i>&mdash;an untidy,
+unshaven man, smoking a cigarette&mdash;and a group of soldiers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> filled the
+entrance, evidently the remainder of the guard.</p>
+
+<p>The Commissary was out. When would he be back? Only God knew. He had
+taken "the Little Mother" for a drive in the country, or perhaps he had
+gone to Petrograd&mdash;who knew? There was nobody to see but the
+Commissary&mdash;on this fact they insisted with such vehemence that Malcolm
+gathered that whoever the gentleman was, he brooked no rivals and
+allowed no possible supplanter to stand near his throne.</p>
+
+<p>They came back at four o'clock in the afternoon, but the Commissary was
+still out. It was nine o'clock, after five inquiries, that the sentry
+replied "Yes" to the inevitable question.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you will see him," said Malinkoff, "and the future depends upon the
+potency of your favourite patron saint."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm stopped in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"General&mdash;&mdash;" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Not that word," said Malinkoff quickly. "Citizen or comrade&mdash;comrade
+for preference."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel that I am leading you into danger&mdash;I have been horribly selfish
+and thoughtless. Will it make any difference to you, your seeing him?"</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"You're quite right, it is always dangerous to attract the attention of
+the Committee for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>Combatting the Counter-Revolution," he said, "but
+since I have taken you in hand I might as well see him as stay outside
+on my cab, because he is certain to inquire who brought you here, and it
+might look suspicious if I did not come in with you. Besides, somebody
+will have to vouch for you as a good comrade and friend of the Soviet."</p>
+
+<p>He was half in earnest and half joking, but wholly fatalistic.</p>
+
+<p>As they went up the broad spiral staircase which led to the main floor
+of the Yaroslav Palace, Malcolm had qualms. He heartily cursed himself
+for bringing this man into danger. So far as he was concerned, as he
+told himself, there was no risk at all, because he was a British
+traveller, having no feeling one way or the other toward the Soviet
+Government. But Malinkoff would be a marked man, under suspicion all the
+time. Before the office of the Commissary was a sentry without rifle. He
+sat at a table which completely blocked the doorway, except for about
+eight inches at one side. He inquired the business of the visitors, took
+their names and handed them to a soldier, and with a sideways jerk of
+his head invited them to squeeze past him into the bureau.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE COMMISSARY WITH THE CROOKED NOSE</h3>
+
+<p>There were a dozen men in the room in stained military overcoats and red
+armlets. One, evidently an officer, who carried a black portfolio under
+his arm, was leaning against the panelled wall, smoking and snapping his
+fingers to a dingy white terrier that leapt to his repeated invitations.</p>
+
+<p>At the table, covered with documents, were two people, the man and the
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>She, sprawling indolently forward, her head upon her arm, her strong
+brown face turned to the man, was obviously a Jewess. The papers were
+streaked and greasy where her thick black ringlets had rested, and the
+ashes of her cigarette lay in little untidy heaps on the table.</p>
+
+<p>The man was burly, with a great breadth of shoulder and big rough hands.
+But it was his face which arrested the feet of Malcolm and brought him
+to a sudden halt the moment he came near enough to see and recognize the
+Commissary.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p><p>It was not by his bushy red beard nor the stiff, upstanding hair, but
+by the crooked nose, that he recognized Boolba, sometime serving-man to
+the Grand Duke Yaroslav. Malcolm, looking at the sightless eyes, felt
+his spine go creepy.</p>
+
+<p>Boolba lifted his head sharply at the sound of an unfamiliar footfall.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this?" he asked. "Sophia Kensky, you who are my eyes, tell me
+who is this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a boorjoo," said the woman lazily.</p>
+
+<p>"A foreigner too&mdash;who are you, boorjoo?"</p>
+
+<p>"A Britisher," said Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>Boolba lifted his chin and turned his face at the voice.</p>
+
+<p>"A Britisher," he repeated slowly. "The man on the oil-fields. Tell me
+your name."</p>
+
+<p>"Hay&mdash;Malcolm Hay," said Malcolm, and Boolba nodded.</p>
+
+<p>His face was like a mask and he expressed no emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"And the other?"</p>
+
+<p>"Malinkoff!" snapped the voice at Malcolm's side, and Boolba nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Commanding an army&mdash;I remember. You drive a cab, comrade. Are there any
+complaints against this man?"</p>
+
+<p>He turned his face to Sophia Kensky, and she shook her head.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p><p>"Are there any complaints against this man, Sophia?" he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"None that I know. He is an aristocrat and a friend of the Romanoffs."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" The grunt sounded like a note of disappointment. "What do you
+want?"</p>
+
+<p>"The stranger wishes permission to remain in Moscow until he can find a
+train to the north," said Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p>Boolba made no reply. He sat there, his elbows on the table, his fingers
+twining and untwining the thick red hair of his beard.</p>
+
+<p>"Where does he sleep to-night?" he asked after awhile.</p>
+
+<p>"He sleeps in my stable, near the Vassalli Prospekt," said Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p>Boolba turned to the woman, who was lighting a new cigarette from the
+end of the old one, and said something in a low, growling tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Do as you wish, my little pigeon," she said audibly.</p>
+
+<p>Again his hand went to his beard and his big mouth opened in meditation.
+Then he said curtly:</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down."</p>
+
+<p>There was no place to sit, and the two men fell back amongst the
+soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>Again the two at the table consulted, and then Sophia Kensky called a
+name. The man in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> faded officer's uniform came forward, his big black
+portfolio in his hand, and this he laid on the table, opening the flap
+and taking out a sheaf of papers.</p>
+
+<p>"Read them to me, Sophia," said Boolba. "Read their names."</p>
+
+<p>He groped about on the table and found first a rubber stamp and then a
+small, flat ink-pad. Sophia lifted the first of the papers and spelt out
+the names.</p>
+
+<p>"Mishka Sasanoff," she said, and the man growled.</p>
+
+<p>"An upstart woman and very ugly," he said. "I remember her. She used to
+whip her servants. Tell me, Sophia, my life, what has she done now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Plotted to destroy the Revolution," said the woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" grunted the man, as he brought his rubber stamp to the paper,
+passing it across to the waiting officer, who replaced it in his
+portfolio. "And the next?"</p>
+
+<p>"Paul Geslkin," she said and passed the document to him. "Plotting to
+overthrow the Revolution."</p>
+
+<p>"A boorjoo, a tricky young man, in league with the priests," he said,
+and again his stamp came down upon the paper, and again the paper went
+across the table into the portfolio of the officer.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p><p>The soldiers about Malcolm and his friend had edged away, and they were
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>"What are these?" whispered Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Death warrants," replied Malinkoff laconically, and for the second time
+a cold chill ran down Malcolm's spine.</p>
+
+<p>Name after name were read out, and the little rubber stamp, which
+carried death to one and sorrow to so many, thudded down upon the paper.
+Malcolm felt physically ill. The room was close and reeked of vile
+tobacco fumes. There was no ventilation, and the oil lamps made the
+apartment insufferably hot. An hour, two hours passed, and no further
+notice was paid to the two men.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't understand it quite," said Malinkoff in a low voice.
+"Ordinarily this would mean serious trouble, but if the Commissary had
+any suspicion of you or me, we should have been in prison an hour ago."</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly Boolba rose.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the hour?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>A dozen voices replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Half-past ten? It is time that the sweeper was here."</p>
+
+<p>He threw back his head and laughed, and the men joined in the laughter.
+With a great yellow handkerchief, which reminded Malcolm of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>something
+particularly unpleasant, Boolba wiped the streams from his sightless
+eyes and bent down to the woman at his side, and Malcolm heard him say:
+"What is his name&mdash;he told me," and then he stood up.</p>
+
+<p>"Hay," he said, "you are a boorjoo. You have ordered many men to sweep
+your room. Is it not good that a house should be clean, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, Boolba," said Malcolm quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Boolba he calls me. He remembers well. That is good! I stood behind
+him, comrades, giving wine and coffee and bowing to this great English
+lord! Yes, I, Boolba!" he struck his chest, "crawled on my knees to this
+man, and he calls me Boolba now&mdash;Boolba!" he roared ferociously. "Come
+here! Do this! Clean my boots, Boolba! Come, little Boolba, bow thy neck
+that I may rest my foot!"</p>
+
+<p>A voice from the door interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" he said. "My sweeper has arrived, Hay. Once a day she sweeps my
+room and once a day she makes my bed. No ordinary woman will satisfy
+Boolba. She must come in her furs, drive in her fine carriage from the
+Nijitnkaya&mdash;behold!"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm looked to the doorway and was struck dumb with amazement.</p>
+
+<p>The girl who came in was dressed better than he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> expected any woman to
+be dressed in Moscow. A sable wrap was about her shoulders, a sable
+toque was on her head. He could not see the worn shoes nor the shabby
+dress beneath the costly furs; indeed, he saw nothing but the face&mdash;the
+face of his dreams&mdash;unchanged, unlined, more beautiful than he had
+remembered her. She stood stiffly in her pride, her little chin held up,
+her contemptuous eyes fixed upon the man at the table. Then loosing her
+wrap, she hung it upon a peg, and opening a cupboard, took out a broad
+broom.</p>
+
+<p>"Sweep, Irene Yaroslav," said the man.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm winced at the word, and Malinkoff turned to him sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"You know her?" he said. "Of course you do&mdash;I remember. Was that why
+Boolba kept us waiting?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was butler in the Yaroslav household," said Malcolm in the same
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"That explains it," said Malinkoff. "All this is for the humiliation of
+the Grand Duchess."</p>
+
+<p>"Sweep well, little one," scoffed Boolba from his table. "Does it not do
+your heart good, Sophia Kensky? Oh, if I had only eyes to see! Does she
+go on her knees? Tell me, Sophia."</p>
+
+<p>But the woman found no amusement in the sight, and she was not smiling.
+Her high forehead was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> knitted, her dark eyes followed every movement of
+the girl. As Boolba finished speaking she leant forward and demanded
+harshly:</p>
+
+<p>"Irene Yaroslav, where is Israel Kensky?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," replied the girl, not taking her eyes from her work.</p>
+
+<p>"You lie," said the woman. "You shall tell me where he is and where he
+has hidden his 'Book of All-Power.' She knows, Boolba."</p>
+
+<p>"Peace, peace!" he said, laying his big hand on her shoulder. "Presently
+she will tell and be glad to tell. Where is your father, Irene
+Yaroslav?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know best," she replied, and the answer seemed to afford him
+amusement.</p>
+
+<p>"He was a religious man," he scoffed. "Did he not believe in miracles?
+Was there any saint in Kieff he did not patronize? He is with the saints
+this day," and then, in a fierce whisper to Sophia&mdash;"How did she look?
+Tell me, Sophia. How did she look when I spoke?"</p>
+
+<p>"He died three weeks ago," said Irene quietly, "at the Fortress of Peter
+and Paul," and Boolba rapped out an oath.</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you? Who told you?" he roared. "Tell me who told you, and I
+will have his heart out of him! I wanted to tell you that myself!"</p>
+
+<p>"The High Commissary Boyaski," she replied,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> and Boolba swallowed his
+rage, for who dared criticize the High Commissaries, who hold power of
+life and death in their hands, even over their fellow officials? He sank
+down in his chair again and turned impatiently to Sophia.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you no tongue in your head, Sophia Kensky!" he asked irritably.
+"Tell me all she does. How is she sweeping&mdash;where?"</p>
+
+<p>"By the men, near the big bookcase," said the woman reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," and he nodded his great head.</p>
+
+<p>He rose, walked round the table, and paced slowly to the girl as she
+stood quietly waiting. Malcolm had no weapon in his pocket. He had been
+warned by Malinkoff that visitors were searched. But on the table lay a
+sheathed sword&mdash;possibly the mark of authority which Boolba carried. But
+evidently this ceremony was a nightly occurrence. Boolba did no more
+than pass his hand over the girl's face.</p>
+
+<p>"She is cool," he said in a disappointed tone. "You do not work hard
+enough, Irene Yaroslav. To-morrow you shall come with water and shall
+scrub this room."</p>
+
+<p>The girl made no reply, but as he walked back to his seat of authority
+she continued her work, her eyes fixed on the floor, oblivious of her
+surroundings. Presently she worked round the room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> until she came to
+where Malcolm stood, and as she did so for the first time she raised her
+head, and her eyes met his. Again he saw that little trick of hers; her
+hand went to her mouth, then her head went down, and she passed on as
+though she had never seen him.</p>
+
+<p>"What did she do, Sophia? Tell me what she did when she came to the
+Englishman. Did she not see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was startled," grumbled Sophia; "that is all. Boolba, let the woman
+go."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay, my little pigeon, she must finish her work."</p>
+
+<p>"She has finished," said Sophia impatiently; "how long must this go on,
+Boolba? Is she not an aristocrat and a Romanoff, and are there none of
+your men who want wives?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm felt rather than saw the head of every soldier in the room lift
+to these words.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a little," said Boolba. "You forget the book, my little
+pigeon&mdash;the 'Book of All-Power.' I would have that rather than that
+Irene Yaroslav found a good husband from our comrades. You may go, Irene
+Yaroslav," he said. "Serge!"</p>
+
+<p>The officer who had taken the death warrants, and who stood waiting for
+dismissal, came forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Take our little brother Malinkoff and the Britisher Hay and place them
+both in the prison<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> of St. Basil. They are proved enemies to the
+Revolution."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder who will feed my little horse to-night," said Malinkoff as,
+handcuffed to his companion, he marched through the streets in the light
+of dawn, en route, as he believed, to certain death.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE PRISON OF ST. BASIL</h3>
+
+<p>The temporary prison called by Boolba "St. Basil," was made up of four
+blocks of buildings. All save one were built of grey granite, and
+presented, when seen from the courtyard below, tiers of little windows
+set with monotonous regularity in discoloured walls. The fourth was
+evidently also of granite, but at some recent period an attempt had been
+made to cover its forbidding facade with plaster. The workmen had
+wearied of their good intent and had left off when their labours were
+half finished, which gave the building the gruesome appearance of having
+been half skinned. Flush with the four sides of the square was an open
+concrete trench, approached at intervals by flights of half a dozen
+stone steps leading to this alley-way.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm Hay was pushed down one of these, hurried along the alley-way,
+passing a number of mailed iron doors, and as many barred windows, and
+was halted before one of the doors whilst the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> warder who all the time
+smoked a cigar, produced a key. The door was unlocked, and Hay was
+thrust in. Malinkoff followed. The door slammed behind them, and they
+heard the "click-clock" of the steel lock shooting to its socket.</p>
+
+<p>The room was a medium-sized apartment, innocent of furniture save for a
+table in the centre of the room and a bench which ran round the walls.
+Light came from a small window giving a restricted view of the courtyard
+and a barred transom above the doorway. An oblong slit of ground glass
+behind which was evidently an electric globe served for the night.</p>
+
+<p>There were two occupants of the room, who looked up, one&mdash;a grimy,
+dishevelled priest&mdash;blankly, the other with the light of interest in his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He sat in his shirt-sleeves, his coat being rolled up to serve as a
+pillow. Above the "bed" hung a Derby hat&mdash;an incongruous object. He was
+short, stout, and fresh coloured, with a startling black moustache
+elaborately curled at the ends and two grey eyes that were lined around
+with much laughter. He walked slowly to the party and held out his hand
+to Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome to the original Bughouse," he said, and from his accent it was
+impossible to discover whether he was American or English. "On behalf of
+self an' partner, we welcome you to Bughouse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> Lodge. When do you go to
+the chair&mdash;he's due to-day," he jerked his thumb at the crooning priest.
+"I can't say I'm sorry. So far as I am concerned he's been dead ever
+since they put him here."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm recognized the little man in a flash. It was his acquaintance of
+London.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't remember me," smiled Malcolm, "but what is your particular
+crime?"</p>
+
+<p>The little man's face creased with laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Shootin' up Tcherekin," he said tersely, and Malinkoff's eyebrows rose.</p>
+
+<p>"You're&mdash;Beem&mdash;is that how you pronounce it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bim," said the other, "B-I-M. Christian name Cherry&mdash;Cherry Bim; see
+the idea? Named after the angels. Say, when I was a kid&mdash;I've got a
+photograph way home in Brooklyn to prove it&mdash;I had golden hair in long
+ringlets!"</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff chuckled softly.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the American who held up Tcherekin and nearly got away with ten
+million roubles," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim had taken down his Derby and had adjusted it at the angle
+demanded by the circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right&mdash;but I didn't know they was roubles. I <i>should</i> excite my
+mentality over waste paper! No, we got word that it was French money."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>"There was another man in it?" said Malinkoff, lighting a
+cigarette&mdash;there had been no attempt to search them.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't let that match go out!" begged Cherry Bim, and dug a stub from
+his waistcoat pocket. "Yes," he puffed, "Isaac Moskava&mdash;they killed poor
+old Issy. He was a good feller, but too&mdash;too&mdash;what's the word when a
+feller falls to every dame he meets?"</p>
+
+<p>"Impressionable?" suggested Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the word," nodded Cherry Bim; "we'd got away with twenty
+thousand dollars' worth of real sparklers in Petrograd. They used to
+belong to a princess, and we took 'em off the lady friends of Groobal,
+the Food Commissioner, and I suggested we should beat it across the
+Swedish frontier. But no, he had a girl in Moscow&mdash;he was that kind of
+guy who could smell patchouli a million miles away."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm gazed at the man in wonderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I understand that you are a&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;" He hesitated to describe his
+companion in misfortune, realizing that it was a very delicate position.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a cavalier of industry," said Cherry Bim, with a flourish.</p>
+
+<p>"Chevalier is the word you want," suggested Malcolm, responding to his
+geniality.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all one," said the other cheerfully. "It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> means crook, I guess?
+Don't think," he said seriously, "don't you think that I'm one of those
+cheap gun-men you can buy for ten dollars, because I'm not. It was the
+love of guns that brought me into trouble. It wasn't trouble that
+brought me to the guns. I could use a gun when I was seven," he said.
+"My dad&mdash;God love him!&mdash;lived in Utah, and I was born at Broke Creek and
+cut my teeth on a '45. I could shoot the tail-feathers off a fly's
+wing," he said. "I could shoot the nose off a mosquito."</p>
+
+<p>It was the deceased Isaac Moskava who had brought him to Russia, he
+said. They had been fellow fugitives to Canada, and Isaac, who had
+friends in a dozen Soviets, had painted an entrancing picture of the
+pickings which were to be had in Petrograd. They worked their way across
+Canada and shipped on a Swedish barque, working their passage before the
+mast. At Stockholm Issy had found a friend, who forwarded them carriage
+paid to the capital, whereafter things went well.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got any food?" asked Cherry Bim suddenly. "They starve you
+here. Did you ever eat <i>schie</i>? It's hot water smelling of cabbage."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been tried?" asked Malinkoff, and the man smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Tried!" he said contemptuously. "Say, what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> do you think's goin' to
+happen to you? Do you think you'll go up before a judge and hire a
+lawyer to defend you? Not much. If they try you, it's because they've
+got something funny to tell you. Look here."</p>
+
+<p>He leapt up on to the bench with surprising agility and stood on tiptoe,
+so that his eyes came level with a little grating in the wall. The
+opening gave a view of another cell.</p>
+
+<p>"Look," said Cherry Bim, stepping aside, and Malcolm peered through the
+opening.</p>
+
+<p>At first he could see nothing, for the cell was darker than the room he
+was in, but presently he distinguished a huddled form lying on the
+bench, and even as he looked it was galvanized to life. It was an old
+man who had leaped from the bench mumbling and mouthing in his terror.</p>
+
+<p>"I am awake! I am awake!" he screamed in Russian. "<i>Gospodar</i>, observe
+me! I am awake!"</p>
+
+<p>His wild yells shrunk to a shrill sobbing, and then, with a long sigh,
+he climbed back to the bench and turned his back to the wall. Malcolm
+exchanged glances with Malinkoff, who had shared the view.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Come down and I'll tell you. Don't let the old man hear you speak&mdash;he's
+frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?" he asked curiously.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p><p>Malcolm repeated the words, and Cherry Bim nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I see. I thought they were stuffing me when they told me, but it's
+evidently true. He's a Jew," he went on. "Do you think them guys don't
+kill Jews? Don't you make any mistake about that&mdash;they'll kill anybody.
+This old man has a daughter or a granddaughter, and one of the comrades
+got fresh with him, so poor old Moses&mdash;I don't know his name but he
+looks like the picture of Moses that we had in our Bible at home&mdash;shot
+at this fellow and broke his jaw, so they sent him to be killed in his
+sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"In his sleep?" repeated Malcolm incredulously, and Cherry Bim nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"That's it," he said. "So long as he's awake they won't kill him&mdash;at
+least they say so. I guess when his time comes they'll settle him,
+asleep or awake. The poor old guy thinks that so long as he's awake he's
+safe&mdash;do you get me?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's hellish!" said Malcolm between his teeth. "They must be devils."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, they're not," said Cherry Bim. "I've got nothing on the
+Soviets. I bet the fellow that invented that way of torturing the old
+man thinks he's done a grand bit of work. Say, suppose you turned a lot
+of kids loose to govern the United States, why Broadway would be all
+cluttered up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> with dead nursery maids and murdered governesses. That's
+what's happening in Russia. They don't mean any harm. They're doing all
+they know to govern, only they don't know much&mdash;take no notice of his
+reverence, he always gets like this round about meal times."</p>
+
+<p>The voice of the black-coated priest grew louder. He stood before the
+barred window, crossing himself incessantly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the celebration of the Divine Mystery," said Malinkoff in a low
+voice, and removed his cap.</p>
+
+<p>"For our holy fathers the high priests Basil the Great, Gregory the
+Divine, Nicholas of Myra in Lycia, for Peter and Alexis and Jonas, and
+all holy high priests," groaned the man, "for the holy wonder workers,
+the disinterested Cosmas and Damiauns, Cyrus and John, Pantaleon and
+Hermolaus, and all unmercenary saints...!</p>
+
+<p>"By the intercession of these, look down upon us, O God!"</p>
+
+<p>He walked back to his seat and, taking compassion upon this man with a
+white, drawn face, Malcolm went to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Little father," he said, "is there anything we can do for you?"</p>
+
+<p>He produced his cigarette case, but the pope shook his head.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>"There is nothing, my son" he replied in a weary voice, which he did
+not raise above one monotonous tone, "unless you can find the means of
+bringing Boolba to this cell. Oh, for an hour of the old life!" He
+raised his hand and his voice at the same moment, and the colour came to
+his cheeks. "I would take this Boolba," he said, "as holy Ivan took the
+traitors before the Kremlin, and first I would pour boiling hot water
+upon him and then ice cold water, and then I would flay him, suspending
+him by the ankles; then before he was dead I would cut him in four
+pieces&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Phew!" said Malcolm, and walked away.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you expect to find a penitent soul?" asked Malinkoff dryly. "My
+dear fellow, there is very little difference between the Russian of
+to-day and the Russian of twelve months ago, with this exception, that
+the men who had it easy are now having it hard, and those who had to
+work and to be judged are now the judges."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm said nothing. He went to the bench and making himself as
+comfortable as possible he lay down. It was astounding that he could be,
+as he was, accustomed to captivity in the space of a few hours. He might
+have lived in bondage all his life, and he would be prepared to live for
+ever so long as&mdash;he did not want to think of the girl, that sweeper of
+Boolba's.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>As to his own fate he was indifferent. Somehow he believed that he was
+not destined to die in this horrible place, and prayed that at least he
+might see the girl once more before he fell a victim to the malice of
+the ex-butler.</p>
+
+<p>To his agony of mind was added a more prosaic distress&mdash;he was
+ravenously hungry, a sensation which was shared by his two companions.</p>
+
+<p>"I've never known them to be so late," complained Cherry Bim
+regretfully. "There's usually a bit of black bread, if there's nothing
+else."</p>
+
+<p>He walked to the window and, leaning his arms on the sill, looked
+disconsolately forth.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi, Ruski!" he yelled at some person unseen, and the other inmates of
+the room could see him making extravagant pantomime, which produced
+nothing in the shape of food.</p>
+
+<p>It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and Malcolm was dozing, when they
+heard the grate of the key in the lock and the slipping of bolts, then
+the door opened slowly. Malcolm leapt forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Irene&mdash;your Highness!" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>The girl walked into the cell without a word, and put the big basket she
+had been carrying upon the table. There was a faint colour in the face
+she turned to Malcolm. Her hands were outstretched to him, and he caught
+them in his own and held them together.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>"Poor little girl!"</p>
+
+<p>She smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hay, you have made good progress in your Russian since I met you
+last," she said. "General Malinkoff, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>The general stood strictly to attention, his hand at his cap&mdash;a fact
+which seemed to afford great amusement to the gaoler who stood in the
+doorway, and who was an interested spectator.</p>
+
+<p>"It was Boolba's idea that I should bring you food," said the girl, "and
+I have been ordered to bring it to you every day. I have an idea that he
+thinks"&mdash;she stopped&mdash;"that he thinks I like you," she went on frankly,
+"and of course that is true. I like all people who fly into danger to
+rescue distressed females," she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Can anything be done for you?" asked Malcolm in a low voice. "Can't you
+get away from this place? Have you no friends?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I have one friend," she said, "who is in even greater danger than
+I&mdash;no, I do not mean you. Mr. Hay"&mdash;she lowered her voice&mdash;"there may be
+a chance of getting you out of this horrible place, but it is a very
+faint chance. Will you promise me that if you get away you will leave
+Russia at once?"</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p><p>"You asked me that once before, your Highness," he said. "I am less
+inclined to leave Russia now than I was in the old days, when the danger
+was not so evident."</p>
+
+<p>"Highness"&mdash;it was the priest who spoke&mdash;"your magnificence has brought
+me food also? Highness, I served your magnificent father. Do you not
+remember Gregory the priest in the cathedral at Vladimir?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I have food for you, father," she said, "but I do not recall you."</p>
+
+<p>"Highness" he spoke eagerly and his eyes were blazing, "since you go
+free, will you not say a prayer for me before the miraculous Virgin? Or,
+better still, before the tomb of the holy and sainted Dimitry in the
+cathedral of the Archangel! And, lady," he seized her hand in entreaty,
+"before the relics of St. Philip the Martyr in our Holy Cathedral of the
+Assumption."</p>
+
+<p>Gently the girl disengaged her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, I will pray for you," she said. "Good-bye!" she said to
+Malcolm, and again extended both her hands, "till to-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm raised the hands to his lips, and stood like a man in a dream,
+long after the door had slammed behind her.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee!" said the voice of Cherry Bim with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> long sigh. "She don't
+remember me, an' I don't know whether to be glad or sorry&mdash;some peach!"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm turned on him savagely, but it was evident the man had meant no
+harm.</p>
+
+<p>"She is a friend of mine," he said sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure she is," said the placid Cherry, unpacking the basket, "and the
+right kind of friend. If this isn't caviare! Say, shut your eyes, and
+you'd think you were at Rectoris."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>CHERRY BIM MAKES A STATEMENT</h3>
+
+<p>Malcolm was awakened in the night by a scream. He sprang from the bench,
+his face bathed in perspiration.</p>
+
+<p>"What was that?" he asked hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff was sitting on the edge of the bench rubbing his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard something," he yawned.</p>
+
+<p>Only Cheery Bim had not moved. He was lying on his back with his knees
+up and his hands behind his head, wide awake.</p>
+
+<p>"What was it, Cherry?" asked Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the little man rose and stretched himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what the time is," he said evasively.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Half-past three," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"He's asleep anyway," said Cherry, nodding towards the recumbent figure
+of the priest. "He might have been useful&mdash;but I forgot the old man's a
+Jew."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean&mdash;&mdash;?" said Malinkoff and glanced at the gate.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>Cherry nodded again.</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought they'd carry it out according to programme," he said,
+"but they did. I heard 'em come in."</p>
+
+<p>There was the thud of a door closing.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the door of his cell. They have taken him out, I guess. The last
+fellow they killed in there they hung on a hook&mdash;just put a rope round
+his neck and pushed him in a bag. He was a long time dying," he said
+reflectively, and Malcolm saw that the little man's lower lip was
+trembling in spite of his calm, matter-of-fact tone.</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff had walked across to the priest, and had shaken him awake.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," he said, "a man has just died in the next cell. Would you not
+read the Office of the Dead?"</p>
+
+<p>The priest rose with an ill grace.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I be awakened from my sleep?" he complained. "Who is this
+man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know his name," said Malinkoff, "but he is a Jew&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A Jew!"</p>
+
+<p>The priest spat on the ground contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>"What, I speak an office for a Jew?" he demanded, wrath in his face.</p>
+
+<p>"For a man, for a human fellow creature," said Malinkoff sternly, but
+the priest had gone back to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> his hard couch, nor would he leave it, and
+Malinkoff, with a shrug of his shoulders, went back to his bed.</p>
+
+<p>"That is Russia&mdash;eternal Russia," he said, and he spoke without
+bitterness. "Neither Czar nor Soviet will alter it."</p>
+
+<p>They did not go to sleep again. Something was speaking to them from the
+next cell, something that whimpered and raised its hands in appeal, and
+they welcomed the daylight, but not the diversion which daylight
+brought. Again the door banged open, and this time a file of soldiers
+stood in the entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"Boris Michaelovitch," said the dark figure in the entrance, "it is the
+hour!"</p>
+
+<p>The priest rose slowly. His face was grey, the hands clasped together
+before him shook; nevertheless, he walked firmly to the door.</p>
+
+<p>Before the soldiers had closed around him he turned and raised his hand
+in blessing, and Malinkoff fell upon his knees.</p>
+
+<p>Again the door slammed and the bolts shot home, and they waited in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>There was no sound for ten minutes, then came a crash of musketry, so
+unexpected and so loud that it almost deafened them. A second volley
+followed, and after an interval a third, and then silence. Cherry Bim
+wiped his forehead.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><p>"Three this morning," he said unsteadily. "Anyway, it's better than
+hanging."</p>
+
+<p>There was a long pause, and then:</p>
+
+<p>"Say," he said, "I'm sorry I said I was glad that guy was going."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm understood.</p>
+
+<p>The day brought Irene at the same hour as on the previous afternoon. She
+looked around for the priest, and apparently understood, for she made no
+reference to the missing man.</p>
+
+<p>"If you can get away from here," she said, "go to Preopojenski. That is
+a village a few versts from here. I tell you this, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She did not complete her sentence, but Malcolm could guess from the
+hopeless despair in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, miss," interrupted Cherry Bim. "Ain't there any way of
+getting a gun for a man? Any old kind of gun," he said urgently; "Colt,
+Smith-Wesson, Browning, Mauser&mdash;I can handle 'em all&mdash;but Colt
+preferred."</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is impossible," she said. "I am searched every time I come in
+through the lodge."</p>
+
+<p>"In a pie," urged Cherry. "I've read in stories how you can get these
+things in a pie. Couldn't you make&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's quite impossible," she said. "Even bread<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> is cut into four pieces.
+That is done in the lodge."</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim cast envious eyes on the tall guard at the doorway. He had a
+long revolver.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bet," said Cherry bitterly, "he don't know any more about a gun
+than a school-marm. Why, he couldn't hit a house unless he was inside of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"I must go now," said the girl hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me one thing," said Malcolm. "You spoke yesterday of having one
+friend. Is that friend Israel Kensky?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>She took his hand in both of hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Mr. Hay," she said. "I may not come to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was hard and strained, and she seemed anxious to end the
+interview.</p>
+
+<p>"Boolba told me this morning," she went on, speaking rapidly but little
+above a whisper, "that he had&mdash;&mdash;certain plans about me. Good-bye, Mr.
+Hay!"</p>
+
+<p>This time she shook hands with Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't forget the village of Preopojensky," she repeated. "There is only
+the slightest chance, but if God is merciful and you reach the outside
+world, you will find the house of Ivan Petroff&mdash;please remember that."
+And in a minute she was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what was wrong," said Malcolm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> "She was not so frightened
+when she came in, then she changed as though&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Looking round he had seen, only for the fraction of a second, a hand
+through the grating over the bench. Someone had been listening in the
+next cell, and the girl had seen him. He sprang upon a bench and peered
+through, in time to see the man vanish beyond the angle of his vision.
+Malinkoff was lighting his last cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"My friend," he said, "I have an idea that in the early hours of the
+morning you and I will go the same way as the unfortunate priest."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you think so?" asked Malcolm quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not only do I, but the Grand Duchess thinks so also," said Malinkoff.
+"Possibly this is news."</p>
+
+<p>Again the door was opened, and this time it was an officer of the Red
+Guard who appeared. He had evidently been chosen because of his
+knowledge of English.</p>
+
+<p>"I want the thief," he said tersely in that language.</p>
+
+<p>"That sounds remarkably like me," said Cherry.</p>
+
+<p>He put on his Derby hat slowly and went forth in his shirt-sleeves. They
+watched him through the window being taken across the courtyard and
+through the archway which led to the prison offices and the outer gate.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p><p>"They haven't released him, I suppose?" asked Malcolm, and Malinkoff
+shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"He is to be interrogated," he said. "Evidently there is something which
+Boolba wants to know about us, and which he believes this man will
+tell."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm was silent, turning matters over in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"He won't tell anything that will injure us," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But the man is a crook," said Malinkoff; "that is the word, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the word," agreed Malcolm grimly, "but he's also a man of my own
+race and breed, and whilst I would not trust him with my pocket-book&mdash;or
+I should not have trusted him before I came in here&mdash;I think I can trust
+him with my life, supposing that he has my life in his hands."</p>
+
+<p>In twenty minutes Cherry Bim was back, very solemn and mysterious until
+the gaoler was gone. Then he asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Israel Kensky, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" asked Malcolm quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I'm going to make a statement about him&mdash;a written statement,"
+he said cheerfully. "I'm going to have a room all to myself," he spoke
+slowly as though he were repeating something which he had already told
+himself, "because I am not a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> quick writer. Then I am going to tell all
+that she said about Israel Kensky."</p>
+
+<p>"You can tell that in a second," said Malcolm sternly, and the little
+man raised a lofty hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't get up in the air."</p>
+
+<p>"Why have they sent you back now?"</p>
+
+<p>"To ask a question or two," said Cherry.</p>
+
+<p>He put on his coat, examined the interior of his hat thoughtfully, and
+jammed it down on his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Ten minutes are supposed to elapse," he said melodramatically, "passed
+in light and airy conversation about a book&mdash;the 'Book of&mdash;of&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"'All-Power'?" said Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the fellow. I should say it's the history of this darned place.
+Here they come."</p>
+
+<p>He pulled down his coat, brushed his sleeves and stepped forward briskly
+to meet the English-speaking officer.</p>
+
+<p>They passed an anxious two hours before he returned, and, if anything,
+he was more solemn than ever. He made no reply to their questions, but
+paced the room, and then he began to sing, and his tune had more reason
+than rhyme.</p>
+
+<p>"Look through the grating," he chanted, "see if anybody is watching or
+listening, my honey, oh my honey!"</p>
+
+<p>"There's nobody there," said Malcolm after a brief inspection.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p><p>"He'll be back again in five minutes," said Cherry, stopping his song
+and speaking rapidly. "I told him I wanted to be sure on one point, and
+he brought me back. I could have done it, but I wouldn't leave you
+alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Done what?" asked Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Saved myself. Do you know what I saw when I got into that room for the
+first time? The guy in charge was locking away in a desk three guns and
+about ten packets of shells. It sounds like a fairy story, but it's
+true, and it's a desk with a lock that you could open with your teeth!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Malinkoff who saw the possibilities of the situation which the
+man described.</p>
+
+<p>"And they left you alone in the room?" he asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," said Cherry. "Lift my hat, and lift it steady."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm pulled his hat up, and the butt of a revolver slipped out.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a Browning there&mdash;be careful," said Cherry, ducking his head
+and pulling off his hat in one motion. "Here's the other under my arm,"
+he put his hand beneath his coat and pulled out a Colt.</p>
+
+<p>"Here are the shells for the automatic. I'll take the long fellow. Now
+listen, you boys," said Cherry. "Through that gateway at the end of the
+yard,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> you come to another yard and another gate, which has a guard on
+it. Whether we get away or whether we don't, depends on whether our luck
+is in or out."</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" he whispered, "here comes Percy!"</p>
+
+<p>The door swung open and the officer beckoned Cherry forward with a lift
+of his chin. Cherry walked toward him and the officer half turned in the
+attitude of one who was showing another out. Cherry's hand shot out,
+caught the man by the loose of his tunic and swung him into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Laugh and the world laughs with you," said Cherry, who had an
+assortment of literary quotations culled from heaven knows where. "Shout
+and you sleep alone!"</p>
+
+<p>The muzzle of a long-barrelled '45 was stuck in the man's stomach. He
+did not see it, but he guessed it, and his hands went up.</p>
+
+<p>"Tie him up&mdash;he wears braces," said Cherry. "I'll take that belt of
+deadly weapons." He pulled one revolver from the man's holster and
+examined it with an expert's eye. "Not been cleaned for a month," he
+growled; "you don't deserve to be trusted with a gun."</p>
+
+<p>He strapped the belt about his waist and sighed happily.</p>
+
+<p>They gagged the man with a handkerchief, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> threw him ungently upon
+the bench before they passed through the open door to comparative
+freedom. Cherry locked and bolted the door behind them, and pulled down
+the outer shutter, with which, on occasions, the gaoler made life in the
+cells a little more unendurable by excluding the light. The cells were
+below the level of the courtyard, and they moved along the trench from
+which they opened.</p>
+
+<p>Pacing his beat by the gateway was a solitary sentry.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay here," whispered Cherry; "he has seen me going backward and
+forward, and maybe he thinks I'm one of the official classes."</p>
+
+<p>He mounted the step leading up from the trench, and walked boldly toward
+the gateway. Nearing the man, he turned to wave a greeting to an
+imaginary companion. In reality he was looking to see whether there were
+any observers of the act which was to follow.</p>
+
+<p>Watching him, they did not see exactly what had happened. Suddenly the
+soldier doubled up like a jack-knife and fell.</p>
+
+<p>Cherry bent over him, lifted the rifle and stood it against the wall,
+then, exhibiting remarkable strength for so small a man, he picked up
+the man in his arms and dropped him into the trench which terminated at
+the gateway. They heard the thud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> of his body, and, breaking cover, they
+raced across the yard, joining Cherry, who led the way through the deep
+arch.</p>
+
+<p>Now they saw the outer barrier. It consisted of a formidable iron
+grille. To their right was a gloomy building, which Malcolm judged was
+the bureau of the prison, to the left a high wall. On either side of the
+gateway was a squat lodge, and before these were half a dozen soldiers,
+some leaning against the gate, some sitting in the doorway of the
+lodges, but all carrying rifles.</p>
+
+<p>"This way," said Cherry under his breath, and turned into the office.</p>
+
+<p>The door of the room on his left was open, and into this they walked. It
+was empty, but scarcely had they closed the door than there were
+footsteps outside. Cherry, with a gun in each hand, a hard and ugly grin
+on his fat face, covered the door, but the footsteps passed.</p>
+
+<p>There was a babble of voices outside and a rattle and creak of gates.
+Malcolm crept to the one window which the office held (he guessed it was
+here that Cherry had written his "statement"), and peeped cautiously
+forth.</p>
+
+<p>A big closed auto was entering the gate, and he pulled his head back.
+Cherry was at his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody visiting&mdash;a fellow high up," whispered the latter hoarsely;
+"they'll come in here, the guy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> we left in the cell told me he'd want
+this room. Try that door!"</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to a tall press and Malinkoff was there in a second. The
+press was evidently used for the storage of stationery. There was one
+shelf, half way up, laden with packages of paper, and Malinkoff lifted
+one end. The other slipped and the packets dropped with a crash. But the
+purring of the auto in the yard was noisy enough to drown the sound
+unless somebody was outside the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Three can squeeze in&mdash;you go first, Mr. Hay."</p>
+
+<p>It was more than a squeeze, it was a torture, but the door closed on
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm had an insane desire to laugh, but he checked it at the sound of
+a voice&mdash;for it was the voice of Boolba.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot stay very long, comrade," he was saying as he entered the
+room, "but...."</p>
+
+<p>The rest was a mumble.</p>
+
+<p>"I will see that she is kept by herself," said a strange voice,
+evidently of someone in authority at the prison.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm bit his lips to check the cry that rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Irene!"</p>
+
+<p>"..." Boolba's deep voice was again a rumble.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, comrade, I will bring her in ... let me lead you to a chair."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p><p>He evidently went to the door and called, and immediately there was a
+tramp of feet.</p>
+
+<p>"What does this mean, Boolba?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm knew the voice&mdash;he had heard it before&mdash;and his relief was such
+that all sense of his own danger passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Sophia Kensky," Boolba was speaking now, "you are under arrest by order
+of the Soviet."</p>
+
+<p>"Arrest!" the word was screamed, "me&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are plotting against the Revolution, and your wickedness has been
+discovered," said Boolba. "<i>Matinshka!</i> Little mama, it is ordered!"</p>
+
+<p>"You lie! You lie!" she screeched. "You blind devil&mdash;I spit on you! You
+arrest me because you want the aristocrat Irene Yaroslav! Blind pig!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Prekanzeno, dushinka!</i> It is ordered, dear little soul," murmured
+Boolba. "I go back alone&mdash;listen! My auto is turning. I go back alone,
+<i>drushka</i>, and who shall be my eyes now that my little mama is gone?"</p>
+
+<p>They heard the chair pushed back as he rose and the scream and flurry as
+she leapt at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep her away, little comrade," roared Boolba. "Keep her away&mdash;I am
+blind; her father blinded me; keep her away!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Cherry Bim who slipped first from the cupboard.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>Under the menace of his guns the soldiers fell back.</p>
+
+<p>"Auto Russki&mdash;hold up the guard, Hay," he muttered, and Malinkoff jumped
+through the doorway to the step of the big car in one bound.</p>
+
+<p>Cherry held the room. He spoke no Russian, but his guns were
+multi-lingual. There was a shot outside before he fired three times into
+the room. Then he fell back, slamming the door, and jumped into the car
+as it moved through the open gateway.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm was on one footboard, Malinkoff by the side of the chauffeur on
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>So they rocked through the ill-paved streets of Moscow, and rushed the
+suburban barricade without mishap.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE HOLY VILLAGE</h3>
+
+<p>"Preopojensky, but by a circuitous route," said Malinkoff, speaking
+across the chauffeur. "What about the wires?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked up at the telegraph lines, looping from pole to pole, and
+Malcolm thrust his head into the window of the limousine to communicate
+this danger to the sybaritic Mr. Bim, who was spraying himself with
+perfume from a bottle he had found in the well-equipped interior of the
+car.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop," said Cherry. "We're well away from Moscow."</p>
+
+<p>At a word from Malinkoff the chauffeur brought the car to a standstill
+and Cherry slipped out, revolver in hand.</p>
+
+<p>Then to the amazement of Malcolm and the unfeigned admiration of the
+general, Cherry Bim made good his boast. Four times his gun cracked and
+at each shot a line broke.</p>
+
+<p>"To be repeated at intervals," said Cherry, climbing into the car. "Wake
+me in half an hour,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> and, curling himself up in the luxurious depths of
+swansdown cushions, he fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Happily Malinkoff knew the country to an inch. They were not able to
+avoid the villages without avoiding the roads, but they circumnavigated
+the towns. At nightfall they were in the depths of a wood which ran down
+to the edge of the big lake on which the holy village of Preopojensky
+stands.</p>
+
+<p>"The chauffeur is not the difficulty I thought he would be," reported
+Malinkoff; "he used to drive Korniloff in the days when he was a
+divisional general, and he is willing to throw in his lot with ours."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you trust him!" asked Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," said Malinkoff, "unless we shoot him we simply must trust
+him&mdash;what do you think, Mr. Bim?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can call me Cherry," said that worthy. He was eating bread and sour
+cheese which had been bought at a fabulous price in one of the villages
+through which they had passed. Here again they might have been compelled
+to an act which would have called attention to their lawless character,
+for they had no money, had it not been for Cherry. He financed the party
+from the lining of his waistcoat (Malcolm remembered that the little man
+had never discarded this garment, sleeping or waking) and made a casual
+reference to the diamonds which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> had gone to his account via a
+soi-disant princess and the favourite of a Commissary.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyway," he said, "we could have got it from the chauffeur&mdash;he's open
+to reason."</p>
+
+<p>They did not ask him what argument he would have employed, but were glad
+subsequently that these arguments had not been used.</p>
+
+<p>What was as necessary as food was petrol. Peter the chauffeur said that
+there were big army supplies in Preopojensky itself, and undertook to
+steal sufficient to keep the car running for a week.</p>
+
+<p>They waited until it was dark before they left the cover of the wood,
+and walked in single file along a cart-track to the half a dozen
+blinking lights that stood for Preopojensky.</p>
+
+<p>The car they had pulled into deeper cover, marking the place with a
+splinter of mirror broken from its silver frame.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing like a mirror," explained Cherry Bim. "You've only to strike a
+match, and it shows a light for you."</p>
+
+<p>The way was a long one, but presently they came to a good road which
+crossed the track at right angles, but which curved round until it ran
+parallel with the path they had followed.</p>
+
+<p>"There is the military store," whispered the chauffeur. "I will go now,
+my little general."</p>
+
+<p>"I trust you, <i>drushka</i>," said Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>"By the head of my mother I will not betray you," said the man, and
+disappeared in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>After this they held a council of war.</p>
+
+<p>"So far as I can remember, Petroff is the silk merchant," said
+Malinkoff, "and his house is the first big residence we reach coming
+from this direction. I remember it because I was on duty at the
+Coronation of the Emperor, and his Imperial Majesty came to
+Preopojensky, which is a sacred place for the Royal House. Peter the
+Great lived here."</p>
+
+<p>Luck was with them, for they had not gone far before they heard a voice
+bellowing a mournful song, and came up with its owner, a worker in the
+silk mills (they had long since ceased to work) who was under the
+influence of methylated spirit&mdash;a favourite tipple since vodka had been
+ukased out of existence.</p>
+
+<p>"Ivan Petroff, son of Ivan?" he hiccoughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my little dove, it is there. He is a boorjoo and an aristocrat,
+and there is no Czar and no God!&mdash;<i>prikanzerio</i>&mdash;it is ordered by the
+Soviet!..."</p>
+
+<p>And he began to weep</p>
+
+<p>"No Czar and no God! Long live the Revolution! Evivo! No blessed saints
+and no Czar! And I was of the Rasholnik!..."</p>
+
+<p>They left him weeping by the roadside.</p>
+
+<p>"The Rasholniks are the dissenters of Russia&mdash;this village was a hotbed
+of them, but they've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> gone the way of the rest," said Malinkoff sadly.</p>
+
+<p>The house they approached was a big wooden structure ornamented with
+perfectly useless cupolas and domes, so that Malcolm thought at first
+that this was one of the innumerable churches in which the village
+abounded.</p>
+
+<p>There was a broad flight of wooden stairs leading to the door, but this
+they avoided. A handful of gravel at a likely-looking upper window
+seemed a solution. The response was immediate. Though no light appeared,
+the window swung open and a voice asked softly:</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are from Irene," answered Malcolm in the same tone.</p>
+
+<p>The window closed, and presently they heard a door unfastened and
+followed the sound along the path which ran close to the house. It was a
+small side door that was opened, and Malcolm led the way through.</p>
+
+<p>Their invisible host closed the door behind them, and they heard the
+clink of a chain.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have not been here before, keep straight on, touching the wall
+with your right hand. Where it stops turn sharply to the right," said
+the unknown rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>They followed his directions, and found the branch passage.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>"Wait," said the voice.</p>
+
+<p>The man passed them. They heard him turn a handle.</p>
+
+<p>"Straight ahead you will find the door."</p>
+
+<p>They obeyed, and their conductor struck a match and lit an oil lamp.
+They were in the long room&mdash;they guessed that by the glow of the closed
+stove they had seen as they entered.</p>
+
+<p>The windows were heavily shuttered and curtained, and even the door was
+hidden under a thick porti&egrave;re. The man who had brought them in was
+middle-aged and poorly dressed, but then this was a time when everybody
+in Russia was poorly dressed, and his shabbiness did not preclude the
+possibility of his being the proprietor of the house, as indeed he was.</p>
+
+<p>He was eyeing them with suspicion, not wholly unjustified, for the
+patent respectability of Cherry's Derby hat was no compensation for the
+armoury belted about his rotund middle.</p>
+
+<p>But when the man's eyes fell upon Malinkoff, his whole demeanour
+changed, and he advanced with outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p>"General Malinkoff," he said, "you remember me; I entertained you
+at&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"At Kieff! Of course!" smiled Malinkoff. "I did not know the Ivan
+Petroff of Moscow was the Ivan of the Ukraine."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>"Now, gentlemen, what is your wish?" asked the man, and Malinkoff
+explained the object of the visit.</p>
+
+<p>Petroff looked serious.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I will do anything her Highness wishes," he said. "I saw her
+yesterday, and she told me that she had a dear friend in St. Basil."
+Malcolm tried to look unconcerned under Malinkoff's swift scrutiny and
+failed. "But I think she wished you to meet another&mdash;guest."</p>
+
+<p>He paused.</p>
+
+<p>"He has gone into Moscow to-night against my wishes," he said with
+trouble in his face; "such an old man&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Kensky?" said Malcolm quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Kensky." The tone was short. "I told him that no good would come of
+it&mdash;her Highness was married to-night."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm took a step forward, but it was an unsteady step.</p>
+
+<p>"Married?" he repeated. "To whom was she married?"</p>
+
+<p>Petroff looked down at the floor as though he dare not meet the eye of
+any man and say so monstrous a thing.</p>
+
+<p>"To the servant Boolba," he said.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE RED BRIDE</h3>
+
+<p>Irene Yaroslav came back to the home which had always been associated in
+her mind with unhappy memories, to meet the culminating disaster which
+Fate had wrought. Whatever thoughts of escape she may have treasured in
+secret were cut into by the sure knowledge that she was watched day and
+night, and were now finally terminated by the discovery that the big
+apartment house, a suite of which Boolba had taken for her disposal when
+he had ousted her from her father's house, was practically in possession
+of the Soviet Guard.</p>
+
+<p>She drove to the palace with an undisguised escort of mounted men, one
+on either side of the carriage, one before and one behind, and went up
+the stairs&mdash;those grim stairs which had frightened her as a child and
+had filled her nights with dreams, passing on her way the now empty
+bureau which it had been Boolba's whim for her to keep.</p>
+
+<p>Maria Badisikaya, an officer of the Committee<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> for the Suppression of
+the Counter-Revolution, formerly an operative in the Moscow Cigarette
+Company, was waiting in the small drawing-room which still retained some
+of its ancient splendour. Maria was a short, stumpy woman with a slight
+moustache and a wart on her chin, and was dressed in green satin, cut
+low to disclose her generous figure. About her stiff, coal-black hair
+was a heavy diamond bandeau. She was sitting on a settee, her feet
+hardly touching the ground, cleaning her nails with a little
+pocket-knife as the girl entered. Evidently this was her maid of honour,
+and she could have laughed.</p>
+
+<p>The woman glowered up at her and jumped briskly to her feet, closing the
+knife and slipping it into her corsage.</p>
+
+<p>"You are late, Irene Yaroslav," she said shrilly. "I have something
+better to do than to sit here waiting for a boorjoo. There is a
+committee meeting at ten o'clock to-night. How do you imagine I can
+attend that? Come, come!"</p>
+
+<p>She bustled into an ante-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is your dress, my little bride. See, there is everything, even to
+stockings&mdash;Boolba has thought of all, yet he will not see! La! la! What
+a man!"</p>
+
+<p>Numerous articles of attire were laid out on chairs and on the back of
+the sofa, and the girl,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> looking at them, shuddered. It was Boolba's
+idea&mdash;nobody but Boolba would have thought of it. Every garment was of
+red, blood red, a red which seemed to fill the room with harsh sound.
+Stockings of finest silk, shoes of russian leather, cobweb
+underwear&mdash;but all of the same hideous hue. In Russia the word "red" is
+also the word "beautiful." In a language in which so many delicate
+shades of meaning can be expressed, this word serves a double purpose,
+doing duty for that which, in the eyes of civilized people, is garish,
+and that which is almost divine.</p>
+
+<p>Maria's manner changed suddenly. From the impatient, slightly pompous
+official, conscious of her position, she became obsequious and even
+affectionate. Possibly she remembered that the girl was to become the
+wife of the most powerful man in Moscow, whose word was amply sufficient
+to send even Gregory Prodol to the execution yard, and Gregory's
+position seemed unassailable.</p>
+
+<p>"I will help you to dress, my little dear," she said. "Let me take your
+hat, my little dove."</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather be alone," said the girl. "Will you please wait in the
+next room, Maria Badisikaya?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I can help you so, my little darling," said the woman, fussing
+about. "A bride has no luck for thirty years if she puts on her own
+stockings."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p><p>"Go!" said the girl imperiously, and the woman cringed.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, Excellenz," she stammered, and went out without another
+word.</p>
+
+<p>The girl changed quickly, and surveyed herself in the pier glass at the
+end of the room. It was striking but horrible. There came a tap at the
+door and the agitated Maria entered.</p>
+
+<p>"He has sent for you, my little dove," she said. "Come, take my arm. Do
+not tremble, my little pretty. Boolba is a good man and the greatest man
+in Moscow."</p>
+
+<p>She would have taken the girl's arm, but Irene waved her aside, and
+walked swiftly from the drawing-room into the grand saloon. She wanted
+the ordeal over as soon as possible.</p>
+
+<p>The room was crowded, and though many of the electric lamps in the great
+glass chandelier were not in working order and a broken fuse had put
+half the wall brackets in darkness, the light was almost dazzling. This
+wonderful saloon, where ten Czars had eaten bread and salt with ten
+generations of Yaroslavs, was thick with humanity. Some of the men were
+in uniform, some were in a nondescript costume which was the Soviet
+compromise between evening-dress and diplomatic uniform. One man wore a
+correct evening-jacket and a white waistcoat with a perfectly starched
+shirt, over uniform<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> trousers and top-boots. The women were as weirdly
+clothed. Some were shabby to the point of rags, a few wore court dresses
+of the approved pattern, and there was one woman dressed like a man, who
+smoked all the time. The air was blue with tobacco smoke and buzzing
+with sound.</p>
+
+<p>As she came into the saloon somebody shouted her name, and there was
+vigorous applause, not for her, she knew, nor for the name she bore, but
+for the novelty and the "beauty" of her wedding gown.</p>
+
+<p>At the farther end of the room was a table covered with a red cloth, and
+behind it sat a man in evening-dress, whom she recognized as one of the
+newly-appointed magistrates of the city. Nudged behind by Maria, she
+made her way through the press of people, whose admiring comments were
+spoken loud enough for her to hear.</p>
+
+<p>"What a little beauty! Too good for a blind man, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"We have knelt for her many times, now she shall kneel for us."</p>
+
+<p>"Such a dress! This Boolba is a wonderful fellow."</p>
+
+<p>She halted before the table, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.
+Her head was high, and she met every glance steadily and disdainfully.</p>
+
+<p>The clock struck a quarter after ten when Boolba made his entrance
+amidst a storm of applause.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>They had never seen him in such a uniform before. Some thought it was a
+new costume which had been sanctioned by the supreme Soviet for its
+Commissaries; others that it had been planned especially for the
+marriage. Irene alone knew it, and a cold, disdainful smile lit for a
+moment her expressionless face.</p>
+
+<p>She had seen Boolba in knee-breeches and white silk stockings before;
+she knew the coat of green and gold which the retainers of the house of
+Yaroslav wore on state occasions. Boolba was marrying her in his
+butler's livery&mdash;a delicate piece of vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>The ceremony was short, and, to the girl, unreal. Religious marriages,
+though they had not altogether been banned, were regarded by the
+official Russia as unnecessary, and a new marriage service had been
+designed, which confined the ceremony to the space of a few minutes. The
+attempts to abolish marriage altogether had been strenuously opposed,
+not so much by the public women who were on the innumerable councils and
+committees, but by the wives of the more important members of the
+organization.</p>
+
+<p>Boolba was led to her side, and reached out his hand gropingly, and in
+very pity of his blindness she took it. Questions were asked him, to
+which he responded and similar questions were asked her, to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> which she
+made no reply. The whole ceremony was a farce, and she had agreed to it
+only because it gave her a little extra time, and every minute counted.
+From the moment the magistrate pronounced the formula which made them,
+in the eyes of the Soviet law at any rate, man and wife, Boolba never
+loosened his hold of her.</p>
+
+<p>He held her hand in his own big, hot palm, until it was wet and her
+fingers lost all feeling. From group to group they moved, and when they
+crossed the dancing space of the saloon, the revellers stepped aside to
+allow the man to pass. She noticed that in the main they confined
+themselves to country dances, some of which were new to her. And all the
+time Boolba kept up a continuous conversation in an undertone, pinching
+her hand gently whenever he wanted to attract her attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, my new eyes, my little pigeon of God, what are they doing now?
+Do you see Mishka Gurki? She is a silly woman. Tell me, my little pet,
+if you see her. Watch her well, and tell me how she looks at me. That
+woman is an enemy of the Revolution and a friend of Sophia Kensky....
+Ah! it is sad about your poor friends."</p>
+
+<p>The girl turned cold and clenched her teeth to take the news which was
+coming.</p>
+
+<p>"They tried to escape and they were shot down by our brave guard. I
+would have pardoned them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> for your sake, all but the thief, who broke
+the jaw of comrade Alex Alexandroff. Yes, I would have pardoned them
+to-night, because I am happy. Else they would have died with Sophia
+Kensky in the morning.... Do I not please you, that I put away this
+woman, who was my eyes and saw for me&mdash;all for your sake, my little
+pigeon, all for your sake!... Do you see a big man with one eye? He has
+half my misfortune, yet he sees a million times more than Boolba! That
+is the butcher Kreml&mdash;some day he shall see the Kreml<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a>," he
+chuckled.... "Why do you not speak, my darling little mama? Are you
+thinking of the days when I was Boolba the slave? Na, na, <i>stoi</i>! Think
+of to-day, to-night, my little child of Jesus!"</p>
+
+<p>There were times when she could have screamed, moments of madness when
+she longed to pick up one of the champagne bottles which littered the
+floor, and at intervals were thrown with a crash into a corner of the
+room, and strike him across that great brutal face. There were times
+when she was physically sick and the room spun round and round and she
+would have fallen but for the man's arm. But the hour she dreaded most
+of all came at last, when, one by one, with coarse jests at her
+expense,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> the motley company melted away and left her alone with the
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"They have all gone?" he asked eagerly. "Every one?"</p>
+
+<p>He clutched more tightly.</p>
+
+<p>"To my room. We have a supper for ourselves. They are pigs, all these
+fellows, my little beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>The old carpet was still on the stairs, she noticed dully. Up above used
+to be her own room, at the far end of the long passage. She had a piano
+there once. She wondered whether it was still there. There used to be a
+servant at the head and at the foot of these stairs&mdash;a long,
+green-coated Cossack, to pass whom without authority was to court death.
+The room on the left had been her father's&mdash;two big saloons, separated
+by heavy silken curtains; his bureau was at one end, his bedroom at the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>It was into the bureau that the man groped his way. A table had been
+set, crowded with bottles and glasses, piled with fruit, sweetmeats, and
+at the end the inevitable samovar.</p>
+
+<p>"I will lock the door," said Boolba. "Now you shall kiss me on the eyes
+and on the mouth and on the cheeks, making the holy cross."</p>
+
+<p>She braced herself for the effort, and wrenched free. In a flash he came
+at her, and his hands caught the silken gown at the shoulder. She
+twisted under his arm, leaving a length of tattered and torn silk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> in
+his hand, and the marks of his finger-nails upon her white shoulder. He
+stopped and laughed&mdash;a low, gurgling laugh&mdash;and it was to the girl like
+the roar of some subterranean river heard from afar.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Highness," he mocked, "would you rob a blind man of his bride? Then
+let us be blind together!"</p>
+
+<p>He blundered to the door. There was a click, and the room was in
+darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"I am better than you now," he said. "I hear you in the dark; I can
+almost see you. You are by the corner of the table. Now you are pushing
+a chair. Little pigeon, come to me!"</p>
+
+<p>Whilst he was talking she was safe because she could locate him. It was
+when he was silent that she was filled with wild fear. He moved as
+softly as a cat, and it seemed that his boast of seeing in the dark was
+almost justified. Once his hand brushed her and she shrank back only
+just in time. The man was breathing heavily now, and the old, mocking
+terms of endearment had changed.</p>
+
+<p>"Come to me, Irene Yaroslav!" he roared. "Have I not often run to you?
+Have I not waited throughout the night to take your wraps and bring you
+coffee? Now you shall wait on me by Inokente! You shall be eyes and
+hands for me, and when I am tired of you, you shall go the way of Sophia
+Kensky."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><p>She was edging her way to the door. Once she could switch on the light
+she was safe, at any rate for the time being. There was a long silence,
+and, try as she did, she could not locate him. He must have been
+crouching near the door, anticipating her move, for as her hand fell on
+the switch and the lights sprang into being, he leapt at her. She saw
+him, but too late to avoid his whirling hands. In a second he had her in
+his arms. The man was half mad. He cursed and blessed her alternately,
+called her his little pigeon and his little devil in the same breath.
+She felt the tickle of his beard against her bare shoulder, and strove
+to push him off.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, my little peach," he said. "Who shall say that there is no
+justice in Russia, when Yaroslav's daughter is the bride of Boolba!"</p>
+
+<p>His back was to the curtain, and he was half lifting, half drawing her
+to the two grey strips which marked its division, when the girl
+screamed.</p>
+
+<p>"Again, again, my little dear," grinned Boolba. "That is fine music."</p>
+
+<p>But it was not her own danger which had provoked the cry. It was that
+vision, twice seen in her lifetime, of dead white hands, blue-veined,
+coming from the curtain and holding this time a scarlet cord.</p>
+
+<p>It was about Boolba's neck before he realized what had happened. With a
+strangled cry he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> released the girl, and she fell back again on the
+table, overturning it with a crash.</p>
+
+<p>"This way, Highness," said a hollow voice, and she darted through the
+curtains.</p>
+
+<p>She heard the shock of Boolba's body as it fell to the ground, and then
+Israel Kensky darted past her, flung open the door and pushed her
+through.</p>
+
+<p>"The servants' way," he said, and she ran to the narrow staircase which
+led below to the kitchen, and above to the attics in which the servants
+slept.</p>
+
+<p>Down the stairs, two at a time, she raced, the old man behind her. The
+stairway ended in a square hall. There was a door, half ajar, leading to
+the kitchen, which was filled with merrymakers, and a second door
+leading into the street, and this was also open. She knew the way
+blindfolded. They were in what had been the coach-yard of the Palace,
+and she knew there were half a dozen ways into the street. Israel chose
+the most unlikely, one which led again to the front of the house.</p>
+
+<p>A drosky was waiting, and into this he bundled her, jumping in by her
+side, holding her about the waist as the driver whipped up his two
+horses and sped through the deserted streets of Moscow.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> "Kreml" is literally Kremlin, one of the places of
+detention in Moscow.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER</h3>
+
+<p>Malcolm was the first to hear the sound of wheels on the roadway, and
+the party listened in silence till a low whistle sounded and their host
+darted out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"What was that?" asked Malinkoff. "Somebody has come to the front door."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later Petroff staggered through the doorway, carrying the
+limp figure of Irene. It was Malcolm who took the girl in his arms and
+laid her upon the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>"She is not dead," said a voice behind him.</p>
+
+<p>He looked up; it was Israel Kensky. The old man looked white and ill. He
+took the glass of wine which Ivan brought him with a shaking hand, and
+wiped his beard as he looked down at the girl. There was neither
+friendliness nor pity in his glance, only the curious tranquillity which
+comes to the face of a man who has done that which he set out to do.</p>
+
+<p>"What of Boolba?" asked Petroff eagerly</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>"I think he lives," said Kensky, and shook his head. "I am too weak and
+too old a man to have killed him. I put the cord about his neck and
+twisted it with a stick. If he can loosen the cord he will live; if he
+cannot, he will die. But I think he was too strong a man to die."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he know it was you?" asked Petroff.</p>
+
+<p>Kensky shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the hour?" he asked, and they told him that it was two o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>"Sophia Kensky dies at four," he said, in such a tone of unconcern that
+even Malinkoff stared at him.</p>
+
+<p>"It is right that she should die," said Kensky, and they marvelled that
+he, who had risked his life to save one of the class which had
+persecuted his people for hundreds of years, should speak in so
+matter-of-fact tones about the fate of his own blood. "She betrayed her
+race and her father. It is the old law of Israel, and it is a good law.
+I am going to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a chance that you have been followed?" asked Malinkoff, and
+Kensky pulled at his beard thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I passed a watchman at the barricade, and he was awake&mdash;that is the
+only danger."</p>
+
+<p>He beckoned to Malcolm, and, loth as the young man was to leave the
+girl's side, now that she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> showing some signs of recovering
+consciousness, he accompanied the old man from the room.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Gospodar</i>," said Israel Kensky (it sounded strange to hear that old
+title), "once you carried a book for me."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember." Malcolm smiled in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>"'The Book of All-Power,'" repeated the Jew quietly. "It is in my room,
+and I shall ask you to repeat your service. That book I would give to
+the Grand Duchess, for I have neither kith nor child, and she has been
+kind to me."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely, Kensky," protested Malcolm, "you, as an intelligent man, do
+not believe in the potency of books or charms of incantations?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe in the 'Book of All-Power,'" said Kensky calmly. "Remember,
+it is to become the property of the Grand Duchess Irene. I do not think
+I have long to live," he added. "How my death will come I cannot tell,
+but it is not far off. Will you go with me now and take the book?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm hesitated. He wanted to get back to the girl, but it would have
+been an ungracious act not to humour the old man, who had risked so much
+for the woman he loved. He climbed the stairs to the little bedroom, and
+waited at the door whilst Kensky went in. Presently the old man
+returned; the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> book was now stitched in a canvas wrapping, and Malcolm
+slipped the book into his pocket. The very act recalled another scene
+which had been acted a thousand miles away, and, it seemed, a million
+years ago.</p>
+
+<p>"Now let us go down," said Kensky.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord," he asked, as Malcolm's foot was on the stair, "do you love this
+young woman?"</p>
+
+<p>It would have been the sheerest affectation on his part to have evaded
+the question.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Israel Kensky," he replied, "I love her," and the old man bowed
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>"You are two Gentiles, and there is less difference in rank than in
+race," he said. "I think you will be happy. May the Gods of Jacob and of
+Abraham and of David rest upon you and prosper you. Amen!"</p>
+
+<p>Never had benediction been pronounced upon him that felt so real, or
+that brought such surprising comfort to the soul of Malcolm Hay. He felt
+as if, in that dingy stairway, he had received the very guerdon of
+manhood, and he went downstairs spiritually strengthened, and every
+doubt in his mind set at rest.</p>
+
+<p>The girl half rose from the couch as he came to her, and in her queer,
+impulsive way put out both her hands. Five minutes before he might have
+hesitated; he might have been content to feel the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> warmth of her palms
+upon his. But now he knelt down by her side, and, slipping one arm about
+her, drew her head to his shoulder. He heard the long-drawn sigh of
+happiness, he felt her arm creep about his neck, and he forgot the world
+and all the evil and menace it held: he forgot the grave Malinkoff, the
+interested Cherry Bim, still wearing his Derby hat on the back of his
+head, and girt about with the weapons of his profession. He forgot
+everything except that the world was worth living for. There lay in his
+arms a fragrant and a beautiful thing.</p>
+
+<p>It was Petroff who put an end to the little scene.</p>
+
+<p>"I have sent food into the wood for you," he said, "and my man has come
+back to tell me that your chauffeur is waiting by the car. He has all
+the petrol that he requires, and I do not think you should delay too
+long."</p>
+
+<p>The girl struggled to a sitting position, and looked with dismay at her
+scarlet bridal dress.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot go like this," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I have your trunk in the house, Highness," said Petroff, and the girl
+jumped up with a little cry of joy.</p>
+
+<p>"I had forgotten that," she said.</p>
+
+<p>She had forgotten also that she was still weak, for she swayed and would
+have stumbled, had not Malcolm caught her.</p>
+
+<p>"Go quickly, Highness," said Petroff urgently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> "I do not think it would
+be safe to stay here&mdash;safe for you or for Kensky. I have sent one of my
+men on a bicycle to watch the Moscow road."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that necessary?" asked Malinkoff. "Are you suspect?"</p>
+
+<p>Petroff nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"If Boolba learns that Kensky passed this way, he will guess that it is
+to me that he came. I was in the service of the Grand Duke, and if it
+were not for the fact that a former workman of mine is now Assistant
+Minister of Justice in Petrograd, I should have been arrested long ago.
+If Boolba finds Israel Kensky here, or the Grand Duchess, nothing can
+save me. My only hope is to get you away before there is a search.
+Understand, little general," he said earnestly, "if you had not the car,
+I would take all risks and let you stay until you were found."</p>
+
+<p>"That seems unnecessary," said Malinkoff. "I quite agree. What do you
+say, Kensky?"</p>
+
+<p>The old man, who had followed Malcolm down the stairs, nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I should have shot Boolba," he said thoughtfully, "but it would have
+made too much noise."</p>
+
+<p>"You should have used the knife, little father," said Petroff, but
+Kensky shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"He wears chain armour under his clothes," he said. "All the
+commissaries do."</p>
+
+<p>Preparations for the journey were hurriedly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> made. The girl's trunk had
+proved a veritable storehouse, and she came down in a short tweed skirt
+and coat, her glorious hair hidden under a black tam o' shanter, and
+Malcolm could scarcely take his eyes from her.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a coat," said the practical Malinkoff. "That is good&mdash;you may
+need it."</p>
+
+<p>Crash!</p>
+
+<p>It was the sound of a rifle butt against the door which struck them
+dumb. Muffled by the thick wood, the voice of the knocker yet came
+clearly: "Open in the name of the Revolution!"</p>
+
+<p>Petroff blinked twice, and on his face was a look as though he could not
+believe his ears. The girl shrank to Malcolm's side, and Malinkoff
+stroked his beard softly. Only Cherry Bim seemed to realize the
+necessities of the moment, and he pulled both guns simultaneously and
+laid them noiselessly on the table before him.</p>
+
+<p>"Open in the name of the Revolution!"</p>
+
+<p>A hiss from Kensky brought them round. He beckoned them through the door
+by which they had made their original entry to the room, and pointed to
+the light. He gripped Petroff by the shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Upstairs to your bedroom, friend," he said. "Put on your night-shirt
+and talk to them through the window."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p><p>Down the two passages they passed and came to the little door, which
+Kensky unchained and opened. He put his lips close to Malinkoff's ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember the way you came?" he asked, and the general nodded and
+led the way.</p>
+
+<p>Last but one came Cherry Bim, a '45 in each hand. There were no soldiers
+in view at the back of the house, but Malinkoff could hear their feet on
+some unknown outside road, and realized that the house was in process of
+being surrounded, and had the man who knocked at the door waited until
+this encirclement had been completed, there would have been no chance of
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>They struck the main road, and found the cart track leading to the wood,
+and none challenged them. There was no sound from the house, and
+apparently their flight had not been discovered.</p>
+
+<p>Kensky brought up the rear in spite of Cherry's frenzied injunctions,
+delivered in the four words of Russian which he knew, to get a move on.
+They had reached the fringe of the wood when the challenge came. Out of
+the shadow rode a horseman, and brought his charger across the path.</p>
+
+<p>"Halt!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>The party halted, all except Cherry, who stepped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> from the path and
+moved swiftly forward, crouching low, to give the sentry no background.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that?" asked the man on the horse. "Speak, or I'll fire!"</p>
+
+<p>He had unslung his carbine, and they heard the click of the bolt as the
+breech opened and closed.</p>
+
+<p>"We are friends, little father," said Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me your names," said the sentry, and Malinkoff recited with glib
+ease a list of Russian patronymics.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a lie," said the man calmly. "You are boorjoos&mdash;I can tell by
+your voices," and without further warning he fired into the thick of
+them.</p>
+
+<p>The second shot which came from the night followed so quickly upon the
+first that for the second time in like circumstances the girl thought
+only one had been fired. But the soldier on the horse swayed and slid to
+the earth before she knew what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>"Go right ahead," said the voice of Cherry Bim.</p>
+
+<p>He had caught the bridle of the frightened horse, and had drawn him
+aside. They quickened their steps and came up to the car, which the
+thoughtful chauffeur had already cranked up at the sound of the shots.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Kensky?" asked Malcolm suddenly, "did you see him, Cherry?"</p>
+
+<p>A pause.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>"Why, no," said Cherry, "I didn't see him after the lamented tragedy."</p>
+
+<p>"We can't leave the old man," said Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait," said the little gun-man. "I will go back and look for him."</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes, ten passed and still there was no sign or sound of Israel
+Kensky or of Cherry. Then a shot broke the stillness of the night, and
+another and another.</p>
+
+<p>"Two rifles and one revolver," said Malinkoff. "Get into the car,
+Highness. Are you ready, Peter?"</p>
+
+<p>There was another shot and then a fusillade. Then came slow footsteps
+along the cart track, and the sound of a man's windy breathing.</p>
+
+<p>"Take him, somebody," said Cherry.</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff lifted the inanimate figure from Cherry's shoulder and carried
+him into the car. A voice from the darkness shouted a command, there was
+a flash of fire and the "zip" of a bullet.</p>
+
+<p>"Let her go, Percy," said Cherry, and blazed away with both guns into
+the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>He leapt for the footboard and made it by a miracle, and only once did
+they hear him cry as if in pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hit?" asked Malcolm anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Naw!" drawled his voice jerkily, for the road hereabouts was full of
+holes, and even speech<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> was as impossible as even riding. "Naw," he
+said. "I nearly lost my hat."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke only once again that night, except to refuse the offer to ride
+inside the car. He preferred the footboard, he said, and explained that
+as a youth it had been his ambition to be a fireman.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," he said suddenly, breaking the silence of nearly an hour.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you wonder?" asked Malinkoff, who sat nearest to the window,
+where Cherry stood.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what happened to that boy on the bicycle?"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE ROAD</h3>
+
+<p>Israel Kensky died at five o'clock in the morning. They had made a rough
+attempt to dress the wound in his shoulder, but, had they been the most
+skilful of surgeons with the best appliances which modern surgery had
+invented at their hands, they could not have saved his life. He died
+literally in the arms of Irene, and they buried him in a little forest
+on the edge of a sluggish stream, and Cherry Bim unconsciously delivered
+the funeral oration.</p>
+
+<p>"This poor old guy was a good fellow," he said. "I ain't got nothing on
+the Jews as a class, except their habit of prosperity, and that just
+gets the goat of people like me, who hate working for a living. He was
+straight and white, and that's all you can expect any man to be, or any
+woman either, with due respect to you, miss. If any of you gents would
+care to utter a few words of prayer, you'll get a patient hearing from
+me, because I am naturally a broad-minded man."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>It was the girl who knelt by the grave, the tears streaming down her
+cheeks, but what she said none heard. Cherry Bim, holding his hat crown
+outward across his breast, produced the kind of face which he thought
+adequate to the occasion; and, after the party had left the spot, he
+stayed behind. He rejoined them after a few minutes, and he was putting
+away his pocket-knife as he ran.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry to keep you, ladies and gents," he said, "but I am a sentimental
+man in certain matters. I always have been and always shall be."</p>
+
+<p>"What were you doing?" asked Malcolm, as the car bumped along.</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim cleared his throat and seemed embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, to tell you the truth," he said. "I made a little cross and stuck
+it over his head."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;" began Malcolm, and the girl's hand closed his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Mr. Bim," she said. "It was very, very kind of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing wrong, I hope?" asked Cherry in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing wrong at all," said the girl gently.</p>
+
+<p>That cross over the grave of the Jew was to give them a day's respite.
+Israel Kensky had left behind him in the place where he fell a fur hat
+bearing his name. From the quantity of blood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> which the pursuers found,
+they knew that he must have been mortally wounded, and it was for a
+grave by the wayside that the pursuing party searched and found. It was
+the cross at his head which deceived them and led them to take the ford
+and try along the main road to the south of the river, on the banks of
+which Kensky slept his last dreamless sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The danger for the fugitives was evident.</p>
+
+<p>"The most we can hope," said Malinkoff, "is to escape detection for two
+days, after which we must abandon the car."</p>
+
+<p>"Which way do you suggest?" asked Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Poland or the Ukraine," replied the general quickly. "The law of the
+Moscow Soviet does not run in Little Russia or in Poland. We may get to
+Odessa, but obviously we cannot go much farther like this. I have&mdash;or
+had," he corrected himself, "an estate about seventy versts from here,
+and I think I can still depend upon some of my people&mdash;if there are any
+left alive. The car we must get rid of, but that, I think, will be a
+simple matter."</p>
+
+<p>They were now crossing a wide plain, which reminded Malcolm irresistibly
+of the steppes of the Ukraine, and apparently had recalled the same
+scene to Irene and Malinkoff. There was the same sweep of grass-land,
+the same riot of flowers;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> genista, cornflour and clover dabbled the
+green, and dwarf oaks and poverty-stricken birches stood in lonely
+patches.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is a Russia which the plough has never touched," said Malinkoff.
+"Does it not seem to you amazing that the Americans and British who go
+forth to seek new colonies, should lure our simple people to foreign
+countries, where the mode of living, the atmosphere, is altogether
+different from this, when here at their doors is a new land undiscovered
+and unexploited?"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off his homily to look out of the window of the car. He had
+done that at least a dozen times in the past half-hour.</p>
+
+<p>"We're going fairly fast," said Malcolm. "You do not think anything will
+overtake us?"</p>
+
+<p>"On the road&mdash;no," said Malinkoff, "but I am rather nervous crossing
+this plain, where there is practically no cover at all, and the car is
+raising clouds of dust."</p>
+
+<p>"Nervous of what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aeroplanes," said Malinkoff. "Look, there is a pleasant little wood. I
+suggest that we get under cover until night falls. The next village is
+Truboisk, which is a large market centre and is certain to hold local
+officers of the Moscow Soviet."</p>
+
+<p>Both his apprehensions and his judgment were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> justified, for scarcely
+had the car crept into the cover of green boughs, than a big aeroplane
+was sighted. It was following the road and at hardly a hundred feet
+above them. It passed with a roar. They watched it until it was a speck
+in the sky.</p>
+
+<p>"They are taking a lot of trouble for a very little thing. Russia must
+be law-abiding if they turn their aeroplanes loose on a party of
+fugitive criminals!"</p>
+
+<p>"Boolba has told his story," said Malinkoff significantly. "By this time
+you are not only enemies of the Revolution, but you are accredited
+agents of capitalistic Governments. You have been sent here by your
+President to stir up the bourgeois to cast down the Government, because
+of British investments. Mr. Bim will be described as a secret service
+agent who has been employed to assassinate either Trotsky or Lenin. If
+you could only tap the official wireless," said Malinkoff, "you would
+learn that a serious counter-revolutionary plot has been discovered, and
+that American financiers are deeply involved. Unless, of course,"
+corrected Malinkoff, "America happens to be in favour in Petrograd, in
+which case it will be English financiers."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Then we are an international incident?" he said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>"You are an 'international incident,'" agreed Malinkoff gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim, sitting on the step, smoking a long cigar, a box of which
+Petroff had given him as a parting present&mdash;looked up, blowing out a
+blue cloud.</p>
+
+<p>"A secret service agent?" he said. "That's a sort of fly cop, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's about it, Cherry," replied Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"And do you think they'll call me a fly cop?" said the interested
+Cherry.</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff nodded, and the gun-man chewed on his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"Time brings its revenges, don't it?" he said. "Never, oh never, did I
+think that I should be took for a fellow from the Central Office! It
+only shows you that if a guy continues on the broad path that leadeth to
+destruction, and only goes enough, he'll find Mrs. Nemesis&mdash;I think
+that's the name of the dame."</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff strolled to the edge of the wood and came back hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"The aeroplane is returning," he said, "and is accompanied by another."</p>
+
+<p>This time neither machine took the direct route. They were sweeping the
+country methodically from side to side, and Malinkoff particularly
+noticed that they circled about a smaller wood two miles away and seemed
+loth to leave it.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><p>"What colour is the top of this car?" he asked, and Bim climbed up.</p>
+
+<p>"White," he said. "Is there time to put on a little of this 'camelflage'
+I've heard so much about?"</p>
+
+<p>The party set to work in haste to tear down small branches of trees and
+scraps of bushes, and heap them on to the top of the car. Cherry Bim,
+who had the instinct of deception, superintending the actual masking of
+the roof, and as the sun was now setting detected a new danger.</p>
+
+<p>"Let all the windows down," said Cherry. "Put a coat over the glass
+screen and sit on anything that shines."</p>
+
+<p>They heard the roar of the aeroplane coming nearer and crouched against
+the trunk of a tree. Suddenly there was a deafening explosion which
+stunned the girl and threw her against Malcolm. She half-rose to run but
+he pulled her down.</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"A small bomb," said Malcolm. "It is an old trick of airmen when they
+are searching woods for concealed bodies of infantry. Somebody is bound
+to run out and give the others away."</p>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim, fondling his long Colt, was looking glumly at the cloud of
+smoke which was billowing forth from the place where the bomb had
+dropped. Round and round circled the aeroplane, but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>presently, as if
+satisfied with its scrutiny, it made off, and the drone of the engine
+grew fainter and fainter.</p>
+
+<p>"War's hell," said Cherry, wiping his pallid face with a hand that
+shook.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't quite understand it," said Malinkoff. "Even supposing that
+Boolba has told his story, there seems to be a special reason for this
+urgent search. They would, of course, have communicated&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He fell silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Has Boolba any special reasons, other than those we know?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm remembered the "Book of All-Power" and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you something of Kensky's?" asked Malinkoff quickly. "Not that
+infernal book?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked so anxious that Malcolm laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have that infernal book. As a matter of fact, it is the infernal
+book of the Grand Duchess now."</p>
+
+<p>"Mine?" she said in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Kensky's last words to me were that this book should become your
+property," said Malcolm, and she shivered.</p>
+
+<p>"All my life seems to have been associated with the search for that
+dreadful book," she said. "I wonder if it is one of Kensky's own
+binding. You know," she went on, "that Israel Kensky<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> bound books for a
+hobby? He bound six for me, and they were most beautifully decorated."</p>
+
+<p>"He was a rich man, was he not?" asked Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"He was penniless when he died," she said quietly. "Every store of his
+was confiscated and his money was seized by order of the new Government.
+I once asked him definitely why he did not turn to his 'Book of
+All-Power' for help. He told me the time had not yet come."</p>
+
+<p>"May I see the book?"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm took the volume with its canvas cover from his pocket, and the
+girl looked at it seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, I have half a mind to throw it into the fire?" she said,
+pointing to the smouldering wood where the bomb had fallen. "There seems
+something sinister, something ominous about its possession that fills me
+with terror."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at it for a moment musingly, then handed it back to Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Israel!" she said softly, "and poor Russia!"</p>
+
+<p>They waited until darkness fell before they moved on. Malinkoff had an
+idea that there was a crossroad before the town was reached, and
+progress was slow in consequence, because he was afraid of passing it.
+He was determined now not to go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> through the village, which lay directly
+ahead. The fact that the aeroplane had been able to procure a recruit,
+pointed to the existence of a camp of considerable dimensions in the
+neighbourhood and he was anxious to keep away from armed authority.</p>
+
+<p>It was a tense hour they spent&mdash;tense for all except Cherry Bim, who had
+improvised a cushion on the baggage carrier at the back of the car, and
+had affixed himself so that he could doze without falling off. The side
+road did not appear, and Malinkoff grew more and more apprehensive.
+There were no lights ahead, as there should be if he were approaching
+the village. Once he thought he saw dark figures crouching close to the
+ground as the car passed, but put this down to nerves. Five hundred
+yards beyond, he discovered that his eyes had not deceived him. A red
+light appeared in the centre of the road, and against the skyline&mdash;for
+they were ascending a little incline at the moment&mdash;a number of dark
+figures sprang into view.</p>
+
+<p>The chauffeur brought the car to a halt with a jerk, only just in time,
+for his lamps jarred against the pole which had been placed across the
+road.</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm had drawn his revolver, but the odds were too heavy, besides
+which, in bringing his car to a standstill, the driver had shut off his
+engine and the last hope of bunking through had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>A man carrying a red lamp came to the side of the car, and flashed the
+light of a torch over the occupants.</p>
+
+<p>"One, two, three, four," he counted. "There should be five."</p>
+
+<p>He peered at them separately.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the aristocrat general, this is the American revolutionary,
+this is the woman. There is also a criminal. Did any man jump out?" he
+asked somebody in the darkness, and there was a chorus of "No!"</p>
+
+<p>Footsteps were coming along the road; the guard which had been waiting
+to close them in from the rear, was now coming up. The man with the
+lamp, who appeared to be an officer, made a circuit of the car and
+discovered the carrier seat, but its occupant had vanished.</p>
+
+<p>"There was a man here, you fools," he shouted. "Search the road; he
+cannot have gone far. Look!"</p>
+
+<p>He put the light on the road.</p>
+
+<p>"There are his boots. You will find him amongst the bushes. Search
+quickly."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm, at the girl's side, put his arm about her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not afraid?" he said gently, and she shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think I shall ever be afraid again,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> she replied. "I have
+faith in God, my dear. Cherry has escaped?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," he replied in a guarded tone. "He must have seen the
+soldiers and jumped. They have just found his boots in the roadway."</p>
+
+<p>The officer came back at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>"You have weapons," he said. "Give them to me."</p>
+
+<p>It would have been madness to disobey the order, and Malcolm handed over
+his revolver and Malinkoff followed suit. Not satisfied with this, the
+man turned them out in the road whilst he conducted a search.</p>
+
+<p>"Get back," he said after this was over. "You must go before the
+Commissary for judgment. The woman is required in Moscow, but we shall
+deal summarily with the foreigner and Malinkoff, also the little thief,
+when we find him."</p>
+
+<p>He addressed the chauffeur.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall sit by your side, and if you do not carry out my instructions I
+shall shoot you through the head, little pigeon," he said. "Get down and
+start your machine."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MONASTERY OF ST. BASIL THE LEPER</h3>
+
+<p>He gave an order to the soldiers, and the barrier was removed, then he
+struck a match and lit a flare which burnt a dazzling red flame for half
+a minute.</p>
+
+<p>"A signal," said Malinkoff, "probably to notify our capture."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later, with a soldier on either footboard, and the officer
+sitting beside the chauffeur, the car sped through the night, checking
+only before it came to the cross-roads which Malinkoff had sought for.
+Turning to the left, the car swung into a road narrower and less
+comfortable for the passengers.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if they will catch our brave friend," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"They will be sorry if they do," replied Malcolm dryly. "Cherry will not
+be caught as we were."</p>
+
+<p>Ahead of them and to the right apparently, on a hill by their height, a
+dozen fires were burning, and Malinkoff judged that the camp they were
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>approaching was one of considerable size. He guessed it was a
+concentration camp where the Reds were preparing for their periodical
+offensive against the Ukraine. It must be somewhere in this district
+that the Polish Commissioners were negotiating with the Supreme
+Government&mdash;an event which had set Moscow agog.</p>
+
+<p>An eerie experience this, riding through the dark, the figures of the
+soldier guards on either footboard gripping to the posts of the car.
+Bump, bump, bump it went, swaying and jolting, and then one of the
+guards fell off. They expected him to jump on the footboard again, for
+the auto was going at a slow pace, but to their surprise he did not
+reappear. Then a similar accident happened to the man on the other
+footboard. He suddenly let go his hold and fell backwards.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth&mdash;&mdash;" said Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Look, look!" whispered the girl.</p>
+
+<p>A foot and a leg had appeared opposite the window, and it came from the
+roof of the car. Then another foot, and the bulk of a body against the
+night.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Cherry!" whispered the girl.</p>
+
+<p>Swiftly he passed the window and came to the side of the officer, whose
+head was turned to the chauffeur.</p>
+
+<p>"Russki," said Cherry, "<i>stoi</i>!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p><p>"Stop!" was one of the four Russian words he knew, and the chauffeur
+obeyed, just at the moment when the car came to where the road split
+into two, one running to the right and apparently to the camp, the other
+and the older road dipping down to a misty valley.</p>
+
+<p>The Red officer saw the gun under his nose and took intelligent action.
+His two hands went up and his revolver fell with a clatter at the
+chauffeur's feet. Deftly Cherry relieved him of the remainder of his
+arms.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Malcolm was out of the car, and a brief council of war was
+held.</p>
+
+<p>To leave the man there would be to ask for trouble. To shoot him was
+repugnant even to Cherry, who had constituted himself the official
+assassin of the party.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall have to take him along," said Malinkoff. "There are plenty of
+places where we can leave him in the night, and so long as he does not
+know which way we go, I do not think he can do us any harm."</p>
+
+<p>The Red officer took his misfortune with the philosophy which the
+chauffeur had displayed in similar circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no malice, little general," he said. "I carry out my orders as a
+soldier should. For my part I would as soon cry 'Long live the Czar!'
+as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> 'Long live the Revolution!' If you are leaving Russia I shall be
+glad to go with you, and I may be of service because I know all the
+latest plans for arresting you. There is a barrier on every road, even
+on this which you are taking now, unless," he added thoughtfully, "it is
+removed for the Commissary Boolba."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he coming this way?" asked Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"You saw me fire a flare," said the man. "That was a signal to the camp
+that you were captured. The news will be telegraphed to Moscow, and
+Boolba will come to sentence the men and take back his wife."</p>
+
+<p>He evidently spoke in the terms of his instructions.</p>
+
+<p>"What road will he take, little soldier?" asked Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p>"The Tver road," said the man. "It is the direct road from Moscow, and
+we shall cross it very quickly. At the crossing are four soldiers and an
+under officer, but no barricade. If you will direct me I will tell them
+a lie and say that we go to meet Boolba."</p>
+
+<p>"We're in his hands to some extent," said Malinkoff, "and my advice is
+that we accept his offer. He is not likely to betray us."</p>
+
+<p>The car resumed its journey, and Cherry, who had taken his place inside,
+explained the miracle which had happened.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p><p>"I saw the first lot of soldiers we passed," he said, "and when the car
+stopped suddenly I knew what had happened. I took off my boots and
+climbed on to the roof. I only made it just in time. The rest was like
+eating pie."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't shoot the soldiers who were standing on the footboard, did
+you?" asked Malcolm. "I heard no shots."</p>
+
+<p>Cherry shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Why shoot 'em?" he said. "I had only to lean over and hit 'em on the
+bean with the butt end of my gun, and it was a case of 'Where am I,
+nurse?'"</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour's drive brought them to the cross-roads, and the four
+apathetic sentries who, at the word of the Red officer, stood aside to
+allow the car to pass. They were now doubling back on their tracks,
+running parallel with the railroad (according to Malinkoff) which, if
+the officer's surmise was accurate, was the one on which Boolba was
+rushing by train to meet them. So far their auto had given them no
+trouble, but twenty miles from the camp both the front tyres punctured
+simultaneously. This might have been unimportant, for they carried two
+spare wheels, only it was discovered that one of these was also
+punctured and had evidently been taken out of use the day on which they
+secured the car. There was nothing to do but to push the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> machine into a
+field, darken the windows and allow the chauffeur to make his repairs on
+the least damaged of the tubes. They shut him into the interior of the
+car with the Red officer who volunteered his help, furnished him with a
+lamp, and walked down the road in the faint hope of discovering some
+cottage or farm where they could replenish their meagre store of food.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour's walking brought them to a straggling building which they
+approached with caution.</p>
+
+<p>"It is too large for a farm," said Malinkoff; "it is probably one of
+those monasteries which exist in such numbers in the Moscow Government."</p>
+
+<p>The place was in darkness and it was a long time before they found the
+entrance, which proved to be through a small chapel, sited in one corner
+of the walled enclosure. The windows of the chapel were high up, but
+Malcolm thought he detected a faint glow of light in the interior, and
+it was this flicker which guided them to the chapel. The door was half
+open, and Malinkoff walked boldly in. The building, though small, was
+beautiful. Green malachite columns held up the groined roof, and the
+walls were white with the deadly whiteness of alabaster. A tiny altar,
+on which burnt the conventional three candles, fronted them as they
+entered, and the screen glittered with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> gold. A priest knelt before the
+altar, singing in a thin, cracked voice, so unmusically that the girl
+winced. Save for the priest and the party, the building was empty.</p>
+
+<p>He rose at the sound of their footsteps, and stood waiting their
+approach. He was a young and singularly ugly man, and suspicion and fear
+were written plainly on his face.</p>
+
+<p>"God save you, little brother of saints!" said Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p>"God save you, my son!" replied the priest mechanically. "What is it you
+want?"</p>
+
+<p>"We need food and rest for this little lady, also hot coffee, and we
+will pay well."</p>
+
+<p>Malinkoff knew that this latter argument was necessary. The priest shook
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>"All the brethren have gone away from the monastery except Father
+Joachim, who is a timid man, Father Nicholas and myself," he said. "We
+have very little food and none to spare. They have eaten everything we
+had, and have killed my pretty chickens."</p>
+
+<p>He did not say who "they" were, and Malinkoff was not sufficiently
+curious to inquire. He knew that the priests were no longer the power in
+the land that they were in the old days, and that there had been
+innumerable cases where the villagers had risen and slaughtered the men
+whose words hitherto<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> had been as a law to them. A third of the
+monasteries in the Moscow Government had been sacked and burnt, and
+their congregations and officers dispersed.</p>
+
+<p>He was surprised to find this beautiful chapel still intact, but he had
+not failed to notice the absence of the sacred vessels which usually
+adorned the altar, even in the midnight celebration.</p>
+
+<p>"But can you do nothing for our little mama?" asked Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p>The priest shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Our guests have taken everything," he said. "They have even turned
+Brother Joachim from the refectory."</p>
+
+<p>"Your guests?" said Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p>The priest nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a great prince," he said in awe. "Terrible things are happening
+in the world, Antichrist is abroad, but we know little of such things in
+the monastery. The peasants have been naughty and have broken down our
+wall, slain our martyred brother Mathias&mdash;we could not find his body,"
+he added quickly, "and Brother Joachim thinks that the Jews have eaten
+him so that by the consecrated holiness of his flesh they might avert
+their eternal damnation."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is your prince?" asked Malcolm, hope springing in his breast.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p><p>There were still powerful factions in Russia which were grouped about
+the representatives and relatives of the late reigning house.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know his name," said the priest, "but I will lead you to him.
+Perhaps he has food."</p>
+
+<p>He extinguished two of the candles on the altar, crossing himself all
+the while he was performing this ceremony, then led them through the
+screen and out at the back of the chapel. Malcolm thought he saw a face
+peering round the door as they approached it, and the shadow of a flying
+form crossing the dark yard. Possibly the timid Father Joachim he
+thought. Running along the wall was a low-roofed building.</p>
+
+<p>"We are a simple order," said the priest, "and we live simply."</p>
+
+<p>He had taken a candle lantern before he left the chapel, and this he
+held up to give them a better view. Narrow half-doors, the tops being
+absent, were set in the face of the building at intervals.</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" he said, and pushed the lamp into the black void.</p>
+
+<p>"A stable?" said Malinkoff.</p>
+
+<p>He might have added: "a particularly draughty and unpleasant stable."
+There were straw-filled mangers and straw littered the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you keep many horses?"</p>
+
+<p>The priest shook his head.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p><p>"Here we sleep," he said, "as directed in a vision granted to our most
+blessed saint and founder, St. Basil the Leper. For to him came an angel
+in the night, saying these words: 'Why sleepest thou in a fine bed when
+our Lord slept lowly in a stable?'"</p>
+
+<p>He led the way across the yard to a larger building.</p>
+
+<p>"His lordship may not wish to be disturbed, and if he is asleep I will
+not wake him."</p>
+
+<p>"How long has he been here?" asked Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>"Since morning," repeated the other.</p>
+
+<p>They were in a stone hall, and the priest hesitated. Then he opened the
+door cautiously, and peeped in. The room was well illuminated; they
+could see the hanging kerosene lamps from where they stood.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," said the priest's voice in a whisper, "he is awake."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm went first. The room, though bare, looked bright and warm; a big
+wood fire blazed in an open hearth, and before it stood a man dressed in
+a long blue military coat, his hands thrust into his pockets. The hood
+of the coat was drawn over his head, and his attitude was one of
+contemplation. Malcolm approached him.</p>
+
+<p>"Excellenz," he began, "we are travellers who desire&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the man turned.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, you 'desire'!" he bellowed. "What do you desire, Comrade Hay? I
+will tell you what <i>I</i> desire&mdash;my beautiful little lamb, my pretty
+little wife!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Boolba.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE END OF BOOLBA</h3>
+
+<p>Cherry Bim, the last of the party to enter the room, made a dash for the
+door, and came face to face with the levelled rifle held in the hands of
+a soldier who had evidently been waiting the summons of Boolba's shout.
+Behind him were three other men. Cherry dropped to the ground as the
+man's rifle went off, shooting as he fell, and the man tumbled down.
+Scrambling to his feet, he burst through the doorway like a human cannon
+ball, but not even his nimble guns could save him this time. The hall
+was full of soldiers, and they bore him down by sheer weight.</p>
+
+<p>They dragged him into the refectory, bleeding, and the diversion at any
+rate had had one good effect. Only Boolba was there, roaring and raging,
+groping a swift way round the walls, one hand searching, the other
+guiding.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are they?" he bellowed. "Come to me, my little beauty. Hay! I
+will burn alive. Where are they?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>"Little Commissary," said the leader of the soldiers, "she is not here.
+They did not pass out."</p>
+
+<p>"Search, search!" shouted Boolba, striking at the man. "Search, you
+pig!"</p>
+
+<p>"We have the other boorjoo," stammered the man.</p>
+
+<p>"Search!" yelled Boolba. "There is a door near the fire&mdash;is it open?"</p>
+
+<p>The door lay in the shadow, and the man ran to look.</p>
+
+<p>"It is open, comrade," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"After them, after them!"</p>
+
+<p>Boolba howled the words, and in terror they left their prisoner and
+flocked out of the door. Cherry stood in the centre of the room, his
+hands strapped behind his back, his shirt half ripped from his body, and
+looked up into the big blinded face which came peering towards him as
+though, by an effort of will, it could glimpse his enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"You are there?"</p>
+
+<p>Boolba's hands passed lightly over the gun-man's face, fell upon his
+shoulders, slipped down the arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this the thief? Yes, yes; this is the thief. What is he doing?"</p>
+
+<p>He turned, not knowing that the soldiers had left him alone, and again
+his hands passed lightly over Cherry's face.</p>
+
+<p>"This is good," he said, as he felt the bands on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> the wrists.
+"To-morrow, little brother, you will be dead."</p>
+
+<p>He might have spared himself his exercise and his reproaches, because to
+Cherry Bim's untutored ear his reviling was a mere jabber of meaningless
+words. Cherry was looking round to find something sharp enough on which
+to cut the strap which bound him, but there was nothing that looked like
+a knife in the room. He knew he had a minute, and probably less, to make
+his escape. His eyes rested for a moment on the holster at Boolba's
+belt, and he side-stepped.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>Boolba's heavy hand rested on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Not out of the doorway, my little pigeon. I am blind, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>So far he had got when Cherry turned in a flash, so that his back was
+toward Boolba. He stooped, and made a sudden dash backward, colliding
+with the Commissary, and in that second his hand had gripped the gun at
+Boolba's waist. There was a strap across the butt, but it broke with a
+jerk.</p>
+
+<p>Then followed a duel without parallel. Boolba pulled his second gun and
+fired, and, shooting as blindly, Cherry fired backward. He heard a groan
+over his shoulder and saw Boolba fall to his knees. Then he ran for the
+main door, stumbled past the state-bedroom of the monks, and into the
+chapel.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> It was his one chance that the priest had returned to his
+devotions, and he found the man on his knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Percy," said Cherry, "unfasten that strap."</p>
+
+<p>The priest understood no language but his own. But a gesture, the strap
+about the wrists, blue and swollen, and the long revolver, needed no
+explanation. The strap fell off and Cherry rubbed his wrists.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the breech of his gun; he had four shells left, but he was
+alone against at least twenty men. He guessed that Boolba had made the
+monastery his advance headquarters whilst he was waiting for news of the
+fugitives, and probably not twenty but two hundred were within call.</p>
+
+<p>He reached the road and made for the place where the car had been left.
+If the others had escaped they also would go in that direction. He saw
+no guard or sentry, and heard no sound from the walled enclosure of the
+monastery. He struck against something in the roadway and stooped and
+picked it up. It was stitched in a canvas cover and it felt like a book.
+He suddenly remembered the scraps of conversation he had overheard
+between the girl and Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>This, then, was the "Book of All-Power."</p>
+
+<p>"Foolishness," said Cherry, and put it in his pocket. But the book
+showed one thing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>clearly&mdash;the others had got away. He had marked the
+place where they had stopped, but the car was gone!</p>
+
+<p>It was too dark to see the tracks, but there was no question that it had
+been here, for he found an empty petrol tin and the still air reeked of
+rubber solution.</p>
+
+<p>He had need of all his philosophy. He was in an unknown country, a
+fugitive from justice, and that country was teeming with soldiers. Every
+road was watched, and he had four cartridges between him and capture.
+There was only one thing to do, and that was to go back the way the car
+had come, and he stepped out undauntedly, halting now and again to stoop
+and look along the railway line, for he was enough of an old campaigner
+to know how to secure a skyline.</p>
+
+<p>Then in the distance he saw a regular line of lights, and those lights
+were moving. It was a railway train, and apparently it was turning a
+curve, for one by one the lights disappeared and only one flicker, which
+he judged was on the engine, was visible. He bent down again and saw the
+level horizon of a railway embankment less than two hundred yards on his
+left, and remembered that Malinkoff had spoken of the Warsaw line.</p>
+
+<p>He ran at full speed, floundering into pools, breaking through bushes,
+and finally scrambled up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> the steep embankment. How to board the train
+seemed a problem which was insuperable, if the cars were moving at any
+speed. There was little foothold by the side of the track, and
+undoubtedly the train was moving quickly, for now the noise of it was a
+dull roar, and he, who was not wholly unacquainted with certain
+unauthorized forms of travel, could judge to within a mile an hour the
+rate it was travelling.</p>
+
+<p>He fumbled in his pocket and found a match. There was no means of making
+a bonfire. The undergrowth was wet, and he had not so much as a piece of
+paper in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"The book!"</p>
+
+<p>He pulled it out, ripped off the canvas cover with his knife, and tried
+to open it. The book was locked, he discovered, but locks were to Cherry
+like pie-crusts&mdash;made to be broken. A wrench and the covers fell apart.</p>
+
+<p>He tore out the first three or four pages, struck the match, and the
+flame was touching the corner of the paper when his eyes fell upon the
+printed words. He stood open-mouthed, the flame still burning, gazing at
+the torn leaf until the burning match touched his finger and he dropped
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Torn between doubts, and dazed as he was, the train might have passed
+him, but the light of a match in the still, dark night could be seen for
+miles,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> and he heard the jar of the brakes. He pushed the book and the
+loose leaves into his pocket and ran along the embankment to meet the
+slowing special&mdash;for special it was.</p>
+
+<p>He managed to pass the engine unnoticed, then, crouching down until the
+last carriage was abreast, he leapt up, caught the rail and swung
+himself on to the rear footboard, up the steel plates which serve as
+steps, to the roof of the carriage, just as the train stopped.</p>
+
+<p>There were excited voices demanding explanations, there was a confusion
+of orders, and presently the train moved on, gathering speed, and Cherry
+had time to think. It was still dark when they ran into a little
+junction, and, peeping over the side, he saw a group of officers descend
+from a carriage to stretch their legs. To them came a voluble and
+gesticulating railway official, and again there was a confusion of
+voices. He was telling them something and his tone was apologetic,
+almost fearful. Then, to Cherry's amazement, he heard somebody speak in
+English. It was the voice of a stranger, a drawling English voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say! Let them come on, general! I wouldn't leave a dog in this
+country&mdash;really I wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is against all the rules of diplomacy," said a gruffer voice in
+the same language.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p><p>"Moses!" gasped Cherry.</p>
+
+<p>The road led into the station-yard and he had seen the car. There was no
+doubt of it. The lights from one of the train windows were sufficiently
+strong to reveal it, and behind the stationmaster was another little
+group in the shadow.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a matter of life and death." It was Malcolm's voice. "I must get
+this lady to the Polish frontier&mdash;it is an act of humanity I ask."</p>
+
+<p>"English, eh?" said the man called the general. "Get on board."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm took the girl in his arms before them all.</p>
+
+<p>"Go, darling," he said gently.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot go without you," she said, but he shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Malinkoff and I must wait. We cannot leave Cherry. We are going back to
+find him. I am certain he has escaped."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not leave without you," she said firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll all have to come or all have to stay," said the Englishman
+briskly. "We haven't any time to spare, and the train is now going on.
+You see," he said apologetically, "it isn't our train at all, it belongs
+to the Polish Commission, and we're only running the food end of the
+negotiations. We have been fixing up terms between the Red Army and the
+Poles, and it is very irregular that we should take refugees from the
+country at all."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><p>"<i>Go!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm heard the hoarse whisper, and it was as much as he could do to
+stop himself looking up. He remembered the motor-car and Cherry's
+mysterious and providential appearance from the roof, and he could guess
+the rest.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, we will go. Come, Malinkoff, I will explain in the car,"
+said Malcolm.</p>
+
+<p>They lifted the girl into the carriage and the men followed. A shriek
+from the engine, a jerk of the cars, and the train moved on. Before the
+rear carriage had cleared the platform a car rocked into the
+station-yard, dashing through the frail wooden fencing on to the
+platform itself.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Stoi! Stoi!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Boolba stood up in the big touring car, his arms outstretched, the white
+bandage about his neck showing clearly in the car lights. Cherry Bim
+rose to his knees and steadied himself. Once, twice, three times he
+fired, and Boolba pitched over the side of the car dead.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a feeling that we should meet again," said Cherry. "That's not a
+bad gun."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THE_LAST" id="CHAPTER_THE_LAST"></a>CHAPTER THE LAST</h2>
+
+<p>"All my life," said Cherry Bim, fondling his Derby hat affectionately,
+"I have been what is called by night-court reporters a human parricide."</p>
+
+<p>He occupied a corner seat in the first-class compartment which had been
+placed at the disposal of the party. To the Peace Commissioners in their
+saloon the fugitives had no existence. Officially they were not on the
+train, and the hot meal which came back to them from the Commissioner's
+own kitchenette was officially sent to "extra train-men," and was
+entered as such on the books of the chef.</p>
+
+<p>The girl smiled. There was cause for happiness, for these dreary flats
+which were passing the window were the flats of Poland.</p>
+
+<p>"I have often thought, Mr. Bim, that you were a human angel!"</p>
+
+<p>Cherry beamed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that's what I was named after," he said. "Ain't you heard of the
+Cherry Bims? My sister Sarah was named the same way&mdash;you've heard of
+Sarah Bims?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p><p>"Seraphims," laughed Malcolm; "true, it's near enough. But why this
+dissertation on your moral character, Cherry?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm only remarking," said Cherry, "I wouldn't like you gu&mdash;fellers to
+go away thinkin' that high-class female society hadn't brought about a
+change in what I would describe, for want of a better word, as my
+outlook."</p>
+
+<p>"All our outlooks have been shaken up," said the girl, laying her hand
+on Cherry's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a Grand Duchess of Russia and you are&mdash;you are&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm that," said Cherry, helping her out. "I'm one of nature's
+extractors. But I'm through. I hate the idea of workin' and maybe I
+won't have to, because I've got enough of the&mdash;well, any way, I've got
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>Malcolm slapped him on the knee.</p>
+
+<p>"You've brought more from Russia than we have, Cherry," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But not the greatest prize." It was the silent Malinkoff who spoke.
+"Highness, is there no way of recovering your father's fortune?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"It is gone," she said quietly, "and if Russia were pacified to-morrow I
+should be poor&mdash;you know that, Malcolm!"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>"I have not even," she smiled, "poor Israel Kensky's wonderful book."</p>
+
+<p>"I was a careless fool," growled Malcolm, "when we struck the road I was
+so intent upon getting to the auto that I did not realize the book had
+dropped out. We hadn't a second to lose," he explained for the third
+time to Cherry. "The soldiers were searching in the yard when Malinkoff
+found the breach in the wall. I hated leaving you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw!" said the disgusted Cherry. "Ain't we settled that? Didn't I hear
+you tellin' Percy&mdash;and say, is it true that the young lady is&mdash;is
+broke?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Broke' is exactly the word," she said cheerfully. "I am going to be a
+nice Scottish wife and live within my husband's means&mdash;why, Cherry?"</p>
+
+<p>He had a book in his hand&mdash;the "Book of All-Power."</p>
+
+<p>"Where&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Found it on the road," he said. "I broke the lock an' tore out a couple
+of leaves to light a flare. I wanted to flag the train&mdash;but I've got
+'em&mdash;the leaves, I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"You found it?"</p>
+
+<p>She reached out her hand for the volume, but he did not give it to her.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't read Russian," he said. "What does this say?" and he pointed to
+the inscription on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> cover, and she read, translating as she went on:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="center">"THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER</p>
+
+<p>"Herein is the magic of power and the words and symbols which
+unlock the sealed hearts of men and turn their proud wills to
+water."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Cherry was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a lie," he said quietly, "for it didn't turn my will to
+water&mdash;take it, miss!"</p>
+
+<p>She took it from his hand, wondering, and turned the broken cover. She
+could not believe her eyes ... and turned the leaves quickly. Every page
+was a Bank of England note worth a thousand pounds.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>
+
+<p>"That was how Kensky kept his money evidently," said Malinkoff. "In such
+troublesome times as the Jews passed through, he must have thought it
+safest to convert his property into English money, and when he had
+reached the limit of his hoard he bound the notes into a book."</p>
+
+<p>The girl turned her bewildered face to Cherry.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you know that this was money?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," he said; "didn't I start in to burn it?"</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h4>THE END</h4>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Book of All-Power, by Edgar Wallace
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@@ -0,0 +1,7152 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Book of All-Power, by Edgar Wallace
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Book of All-Power
+
+Author: Edgar Wallace
+
+Release Date: March 28, 2008 [EBook #24920]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander, Martin Pettit and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+BY
+
+EDGAR WALLACE
+
+WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
+LONDON AND MELBOURNE
+
+
+_Made and printed in Great Britain by_
+WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, LONDON.
+
+
+POPULAR NOVELS
+
+BY
+
+EDGAR WALLACE
+
+PUBLISHED BY
+
+WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED.
+
+_In Various Editions._
+
+SANDERS OF THE RIVER
+BONES
+BOSAMBO OF THE RIVER
+BONES IN LONDON
+THE KEEPERS OF THE KING'S PEACE
+THE COUNCIL OF JUSTICE
+THE DUKE IN THE SUBURBS
+THE PEOPLE OF THE RIVER
+DOWN UNDER DONOVAN
+PRIVATE SELBY
+THE ADMIRABLE CARFEW
+THE MAN WHO BOUGHT LONDON
+THE JUST MEN OF CORDOVA
+THE SECRET HOUSE
+KATE, PLUS TEN
+LIEUTENANT BONES
+THE ADVENTURES OF HEINE
+JACK O' JUDGMENT
+THE DAFFODIL MYSTERY
+THE NINE BEARS
+THE BOOK OF ALL POWER
+MR. JUSTICE MAXELL
+THE BOOKS OF BART
+THE DARK EYES OF LONDON
+CHICK
+SANDI, THE KING-MAKER
+THE THREE OAK MYSTERY
+THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE FROG
+BLUE HAND
+GREY TIMOTHY
+A DEBT DISCHARGED
+THOSE FOLK OF BULBORO'
+THE MAN WHO WAS NOBODY
+THE GREEN RUST
+THE FOURTH PLAGUE
+THE RIVER OF STARS
+
+
+To
+HARRY HUGHES-ONSLOW
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAP.                                          PAGE
+
+   I INTRODUCING MALCOLM HAY                      9
+  II A GUN-MAN REFUSES WORK                      24
+ III THE GRAND DUCHESS IRENE                     38
+  IV THE PRINCE WHO PLANNED                      56
+   V THE RAID ON THE SILVER LION                 67
+  VI PRINCE SERGANOFF PAYS THE PRICE             80
+ VII KENSKY OF KIEFF                             96
+VIII THE GRAND DUKE IS AFFABLE                  112
+  IX THE HAND AT THE WINDOW                     126
+   X TERROR IN MAKING                           139
+  XI THE COMMISSARY WITH THE CROOKED NOSE       152
+ XII IN THE PRISON OF ST. BASIL                 163
+XIII CHERRY BIM MAKES A STATEMENT               176
+ XIV IN THE HOLY VILLAGE                        191
+  XV THE RED BRIDE                              198
+  XVI THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER                     210
+ XVII ON THE ROAD                               221
+XVIII THE MONASTERY OF ST. BASIL THE LEPER      233
+  XIX THE END OF BOOLBA                         244
+      CHAPTER THE LAST                          253
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+INTRODUCING MALCOLM HAY
+
+
+If a man is not eager for adventure at the age of twenty-two, the
+enticement of romantic possibilities will never come to him.
+
+The chairman of the Ukraine Oil Company looked with a little amusement
+at the young man who sat on the edge of a chair by the chairman's desk,
+and noted how the eye of the youth had kindled at every fresh
+discouragement which the chairman had put forward. Enthusiasm, reflected
+the elder man, was one of the qualities which were most desirable in the
+man who was to accept the position which Malcolm Hay was at that moment
+considering.
+
+"Russia is a strange country," said Mr. Tremayne. "It is one of the
+mystery places of the world. You hear fellows coming back from China who
+tell you amazing stories of the idiosyncrasies of the Chink. But I can
+tell you, from my own personal observations, that the Chinaman is an
+open book in words of one syllable compared with the average Russian
+peasant. By the way, you speak Russian, I understand?"
+
+Hay nodded.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir," he said, "I have been talking Russian ever since I was
+sixteen, and I speak both the dialects."
+
+"Good!" nodded Mr. Tremayne. "Now, all that remains for you to do is to
+think both dialects. I was in Southern Russia attending to our wells for
+twenty years. In fact, long before our wells came into being, and I can
+honestly say that, though I am not by any means an unintelligent man, I
+know just as little about the Russian to-day as I did when I went there.
+He's the most elusive creature. You think you know him two days after
+you have met him. Two days later you find that you have changed all your
+opinions about him; and by the end of the first year, if you have kept a
+careful note of your observations and impressions in a diary, you will
+discover that you have three hundred and sixty-five different
+views--unless it happens to be a leap year."
+
+"What happens in a leap year?" asked the innocent Hay.
+
+"You have three hundred and sixty-six views," said the solemn Mr.
+Tremayne.
+
+He struck a bell.
+
+"We shan't want you to leave London for a week or two," he said, "and in
+the meantime you had better study up our own special literature. We can
+give you particulars about the country--that part of the country in
+which the wells are situated--which you will not find in the guidebooks.
+There are also a few notable personages whom it will be advisable for
+you to study."
+
+"I know most of them," said the youth with easy confidence. "As a matter
+of fact, I got the British Consul to send me a local directory and
+swotted it."
+
+Mr. Tremayne concealed a smile.
+
+"And what did the local directory say about Israel Kensky?" he asked
+innocently.
+
+"Israel Kensky?" said the puzzled youth. "I don't remember that name."
+
+"It is the only name worth remembering," said the other dryly, "and, by
+the way, you'll be able to study him in a strange environment, for he is
+in London at this moment."
+
+A clerk had answered the bell and stood waiting in the doorway.
+
+"Get Mr. Hay those books and pamphlets I spoke to you about," said
+Tremayne. "And, by the way, when did M. Kensky arrive?"
+
+"To-day," said the clerk.
+
+Tremayne nodded.
+
+"In fact," he said, "London this week will be filled with people whose
+names are not in your precious directory, and all of whom you should
+know. The Yaroslavs are paying a sort of state visit."
+
+"The Yaroslavs?" repeated Hay. "Oh, of course----"
+
+"The Grand Duke and his daughter," added Mr. Tremayne.
+
+"Well," smiled the young man, "I'm not likely to meet the Grand Duke or
+the Grand Duchess. I understand the royal family of Russia is a little
+exclusive."
+
+"Everything is likely in Russia," said the optimistic Mr. Tremayne. "If
+you come back in a few years' time and tell me that you've been
+appointed an admiral in the Russian Navy, or that you've married the
+Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav, I shall not for one moment disbelieve you.
+At the same time, if you come back from Russia without your ears, the
+same having been cut off by your peasant neighbours to propitiate the
+ghost of a martyr who died six hundred years ago, I shall not be
+surprised either. That is the country you're going to--and I envy you."
+
+"I'm a little surprised at myself," admitted Malcolm, "it seems almost
+incredible. Of course, sir, I have a lot to learn and I'm not placing
+too much reliance upon my degree."
+
+"Your science degree?" said Tremayne. "It may be useful, but a divinity
+degree would have been better."
+
+"A divinity degree?"
+
+Tremayne nodded.
+
+"It is religion you want in Russia, and especially local religion.
+You'll have to do a mighty lot of adapting when you're out there, Hay,
+and I don't think you could do better than get acquainted with the local
+saints. You'll find that the birth or death of four or five of them are
+celebrated every week, and that your workmen will take a day's holiday
+for each commemoration. If you're not pretty smart, they'll whip in a
+few saints who have no existence, and you'll get no work done at
+all--that will do."
+
+He ended the interview with a jerk of his head, and as the young man got
+to his feet to go, added: "Come back again to-morrow. I think you ought
+to see Kensky."
+
+"Who is he?" asked Hay courteously. "A local magnate?"
+
+"In a sense he is and in a sense he's not," said the careful Mr.
+Tremayne. "He's a big man locally, and from a business point of view, I
+suppose he is a magnate. However, you'll be able to judge for yourself."
+
+Malcolm Hay went out into the teeming streets of London, walking on air.
+It was his first appointment--he was earning money, and it seemed
+rather like a high-class dream.
+
+In Maida Vale there are many little side streets, composed of shabby
+houses covered with discoloured stucco, made all the more desolate and
+gloomy in appearance by the long and narrow strip of "garden" which runs
+out to the street. In one of these, devoted to the business of a
+boarding-house, an old man sat at a portable bench, under the one
+electric light which the economical landlady had allowed him. The room
+was furnished in a typically boarding-house style.
+
+But both the worker at the bench, and the woman who sat by the table,
+her chin on her palms, watching him, seemed unaffected by the poverty of
+their surroundings. The man was thin and bent of back. As he crouched
+over the bench, working with the fine tools on what was evidently
+intended to be the leather cover of a book, his face lay in the shadow,
+and only the end of his straggling white beard betrayed his age.
+
+Presently he looked up at the woman and revealed himself as a hawk-nosed
+man of sixty. His face was emaciated and seamed, and his dark eyes shone
+brightly. His companion was a woman of twenty-four, obviously of the
+Jewish type, as was the old man; what good looks she possessed were
+marred by the sneer on her lips.
+
+"If these English people see you at work," she said presently, "they
+will think you are some poor man, little father."
+
+Israel Kensky did not stop his work.
+
+"What book are you binding?" she asked after awhile. "Is it the Talmud
+which Levi Leviski gave you?"
+
+The old man did not answer, and a dark frown gathered on the woman's
+heavy face. You might not guess that they were father and daughter, yet
+such was the case. But between Sophia Kensky and her father there was
+neither communion of spirit nor friendship. It was amazing that she
+should accompany him, as she did, wherever he went, or that he should be
+content to have her as his companion. The gossips of Kieff had it that
+neither would trust the other out of sight; and it may be that there was
+something in this, though a stronger motive might be suspected in so far
+as Sophia's actions were concerned.
+
+Presently the old man put down his tools, blinked, and pushed back his
+chair.
+
+"It is a design for a great book," he said, and chuckled hoarsely. "A
+book with steel covers and wonderful pages." He smiled contemptuously.
+"The Book of All-Power," he said.
+
+"Little father, there are times when I think you are mad. For how can
+you know the secrets which are denied to others? And you who write so
+badly, how can you fill a great book with your writings?"
+
+"The Book of All-Power," repeated the man, and the smile on the woman's
+face grew broader.
+
+"A wonderful book!" she scoffed, "filled with magic and mystery and
+spells--do you wonder that we of Kieff suspect you?"
+
+"We of Kieff?" he repeated mockingly, and she nodded.
+
+"We of Kieff," she said.
+
+"So you are with the rabble, Sophia!" He lifted one shoulder in a
+contemptuous little gesture.
+
+"You are also of the rabble, Israel Kensky," she said. "Do you take your
+dinner in the Grand Duke's palace?"
+
+He was gathering together the tools on the table, and methodically
+fitting each graver into a big leather purse.
+
+"The Grand Duke does not stone me in the street, nor set fire to my
+houses," he said.
+
+"Nor the Grand Duchess," said the girl meaningly, and he looked at her
+from under his lowered brows.
+
+"The Grand Duchess is beyond the understanding of such as you," he said
+harshly, and the woman laughed.
+
+"There will come a day when she will be on her knees to me," she said
+prophetically, and she got up from the table with a heavy yawn. "That I
+promise myself, and with this promise I put myself to sleep every
+night."
+
+She went on and she spoke without heat.
+
+"I see her sweeping my floors and eating the bread I throw to her."
+
+Israel Kensky had heard all this before, and did not even smile.
+
+"You are an evil woman, Sophia," he said. "God knows how such a one
+could be a daughter of mine. What has the Grand Duchess done to you that
+you should harbour such venom?"
+
+"I hate her because she is," said the woman evenly. "I hate her not for
+the harm she has done me, but for the proud smile she gives to her
+slaves. I hate her because she is high and I am low, and because all the
+time she is marking the difference between us."
+
+"You are a fool," said Israel Kensky as he left the room.
+
+"Perhaps I am," said the woman, his daughter. "Are you going to bed
+now?"
+
+He turned in the doorway.
+
+"I am going to my room. I shall not come down again," he said.
+
+"Then I will sleep," she yawned prodigiously. "I hate this town."
+
+"Why did you come?" he asked. "I did not want you."
+
+"I came because you did not want me," said Sophia Kensky.
+
+Israel went to his room, closed the door and locked it. He listened and
+presently he heard the sound of his daughter's door close also and heard
+the snap of the key as it turned. But it was a double snap, and he knew
+that the sound was intended for him and that the second click was the
+unlocking of the door. She had locked and unlocked it in one motion. He
+waited, sitting in an arm-chair before a small fire, for ten minutes,
+and then, rising, crossed the room softly and switched out the light.
+There was a transom above the door, so that anybody in the passage
+outside could tell whether his light was on or off. Then he resumed his
+seat, spreading his veined hands to the fire, and listened.
+
+He waited another quarter of an hour before he heard a soft creak and
+the sound of breathing outside the door. Somebody was standing there
+listening. The old man kept his eyes fixed on the fire, but his senses
+were alive to every sound. Again he heard the creaking, this time
+louder. A jerry-built house in Maida Vale does not offer the best
+assistance to the furtive business in which Sophia Kensky was engaged.
+Another creak, this time farther away and repeated at intervals, told
+him that she was going down the stairs. He walked to the window and
+gently pulled up the blind, taking his station so that he could command
+a view of the narrow strip of garden. Presently his vigil was rewarded.
+He saw her dark figure walk along the flagged pavement, open the gate
+and disappear into the darkened street.
+
+Israel Kensky went back to his chair, stirred the fire and settled down
+to a long wait, his lined face grave and anxious.
+
+The woman had turned to the right and had walked swiftly to the end of
+the street. The name of that street, or its pronunciation, were beyond
+her. She neither spoke English, nor was she acquainted with the
+topography of the district in which she found herself. She slowed her
+pace as she reached the main road and a man came out of the shadows to
+meet her.
+
+"Is it you, little mother?" he asked in Russian.
+
+"Thank God you're here! Who is this?" asked Sophia breathlessly.
+
+"Boris Yakoff," said the other, "I have been waiting for an hour, and it
+is very cold."
+
+"I could not get away before," she said as she fell in beside him. "The
+old man was working with his foolery and it was impossible to get him to
+go to bed. Once or twice I yawned, but he took no notice."
+
+"Why has he come to London?" asked her companion. "It must be something
+important to bring him away from his money-bags."
+
+To this the woman made no reply. Presently she asked:
+
+"Do we walk? Is there no droski or little carriage?"
+
+"Have patience, have patience!" grinned the man good humouredly. "Here
+in London we do things in grand style. We have an auto-car for you. But
+it was not wise to bring it so close to your house, little mother. The
+old man----"
+
+"Oh, finish with the old man," she said impatiently; "do not forget that
+I am with him all the day."
+
+The antipathy between father and daughter was so well known that the man
+made no apology for discussing the relationship with that frankness
+which is characteristic of the Russian peasant. Nor did Sophia Kensky
+resent the questions of a stranger, nor hesitate to unburden herself of
+her grievances. The "auto-car" proved to be a very common-place
+taxi-cab, though a vehicle of some luxury to Yakoff.
+
+"They say he practises magic," said that garrulous man, as the taxi got
+on its way; "also that he bewitches you."
+
+"That is a lie," said the woman indifferently: "he frightens me
+sometimes, but that is because I have here"--she tapped her
+forehead--"a memory which is not a memory. I seem to remember something
+just at the end of a thread, and I reach for it, and lo! it is gone!"
+
+"That is magic," said Yakoff gravely. "Evidently he practises his spells
+upon you. Tell me, Sophia Kensky, is it true that you Jews use the blood
+of Christian children for your beastly ceremonies?"
+
+The woman laughed.
+
+"What sort of man are you that you believe such things?" she asked
+contemptuously. "I thought all the comrades in London were educated?"
+
+Yakoff made a little clicking noise with his mouth to betray his
+annoyance. And well he might resent this reflection upon his education,
+for he held a university degree and had translated six revolutionary
+Russian novels into English and French. This, he explained with some
+detail, and the girl listened with little interest. She was not
+surprised that an educated man should believe the fable of human
+sacrifices, which had gained a certain currency in Russia. Only it
+seemed to her just a little inexplicable.
+
+The cab turned out of the semi-obscurity of the side street into a
+brilliantly lighted thoroughfare and bowled down a broad and busy road.
+A drizzle of rain was falling and blurred the glass; but even had the
+windows been open, she could not have identified her whereabouts.
+
+"To what place are you taking me?" she asked. "Where is the meeting?"
+
+Yakoff lowered his voice to a husky whisper.
+
+"It is the cafe of the Silver Lion, in a place called Soho," he said.
+"Here we meet from day to day and dream of a free Russia. We also play
+bagatelle." He gave the English name for the latter. "It is a club and a
+restaurant. To-night it is necessary that you should be here, Sophia
+Kensky, because of the great happenings which must follow."
+
+She was silent for awhile, then she asked whether it was safe, and he
+laughed.
+
+"Safe!" he scoffed. "There are no secret police in London. This is a
+free country, where one may do as one wishes. No, no, Sophia Kensky, be
+not afraid."
+
+"I am not afraid," she answered, "but tell me, Yakoff, what is this
+great meeting about?"
+
+"You shall learn, you shall learn, little sister," said Yakoff
+importantly.
+
+He might have added that he also was to learn, for as yet he was in
+ignorance.
+
+They drove into a labyrinth of narrow streets and stopped suddenly
+before a doorway. There was no sign of a restaurant, and Yakoff
+explained, before he got out of the cab, that this was the back
+entrance to the Silver Lion, and that most of the brethren who used the
+club also used this back door.
+
+He dismissed the cab and pressed a bell in the lintel of the door.
+Presently it was opened and they passed in unchallenged. They were in a
+small hallway, lighted with a gas-jet. There was a stairway leading to
+the upper part of the premises, and a narrower stairway, also lighted by
+gas, at the foot leading to the cellar; and it was down the latter that
+Yakoff moved, followed by the girl.
+
+They were now in another passage, whitewashed and very orderly. A
+gas-jet lit this also, and at one end the girl saw a plain, wooden door.
+To this Yakoff advanced and knocked. A small wicket, set in the panel,
+was pushed aside, and after a brief scrutiny by the door's custodian, it
+was opened and the two entered without further parley.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+A GUN-MAN REFUSES WORK
+
+
+It was a big underground room, the sort of basement dining-room one
+finds in certain of the cafes in Soho, and its decorations and furniture
+were solid and comfortable. There were a dozen men in this
+innocent-looking saloon when the girl entered. They were standing about
+talking, or sitting at the tables playing games. The air was blue with
+tobacco smoke.
+
+Her arrival seemed to be the signal for the beginning of a conference.
+Four small tables were drawn from the sides and placed together, and in
+a few seconds she found herself one of a dozen that sat about the board.
+
+The man who seemed to take charge of the proceedings she did not know.
+He was a Russian--a big, clean-shaven man, quietly and even
+well-dressed. His hair was flaming red, his nose was crooked. It was
+this crooked nose which gave her a clue to his identity. She remembered
+in Kieff, where physical peculiarities could not pass unnoticed, some
+reference to "twist nose," and racked her brains in an effort to recall
+who that personage was. That he knew her he very quickly showed.
+
+"Sophia Kensky," he said, "we have sent for you to ask you why your
+father is in London."
+
+"If you know my father," she replied, "you know also that I, his
+daughter, do not share his secrets."
+
+The man at the head of the table nodded.
+
+"I know him," he said grimly, "also I know you, Sophia. I have seen you
+often at the meetings of our society in Kieff."
+
+Again she frowned, trying to recall his name and where she had seen him.
+It was not at any of the meetings of the secret society--of that she was
+sure. He seemed to read her thoughts, for he laughed--a deep, thunderous
+laugh which filled the underground room with sound.
+
+"It is strange that you do not know me," he said, "and yet I have seen
+you a hundred times, and you have seen me."
+
+A light dawned on her.
+
+"Boolba, the _buffet-schek_ of the Grand Duke!" she gasped.
+
+He nodded, absurdly pleased at the recognition.
+
+"I do not attend the meetings in Kieff, little sister, for reasons which
+you will understand. But here in London, where I have come in advance
+of Yaroslav, it is possible. Now, Sophia Kensky, you are a proved friend
+of our movement?"
+
+She nodded, since the statement was in the way of a question.
+
+"It is known to you, as to us, that your father, Israel Kensky, is a
+friend of the Grand Duchess."
+
+Boolba, the President, saw the sullen look on her face and drew his own
+conclusions, even before she explained her antipathy to the young girl
+who held that exalted position.
+
+"It is a mystery to me, Boolba," she said, "for what interest can this
+great lady have in an old Jew?"
+
+"The old Jew is rich," said Boolba significantly.
+
+"So also is Irene Yaroslav," said the girl. "It is not for money that
+she comes."
+
+"It is not for money," agreed the other, "it is for something else. When
+the Grand Duchess Irene was a child, she was in the streets of Kieff one
+day in charge of her nurse. It happened that some Caucasian soldiers
+stationed in the town started a pogrom against the Jews. The soldiers
+were very drunk; they were darting to and fro in the street on their
+little horses, and the nurse became frightened and left the child. Your
+father was in hiding, and the soldiers were searching for him; yet, when
+he saw the danger of the Grand Duchess, he ran from his hiding-place,
+snatched her up under the hoofs of the horses, and bore her away into
+his house."
+
+"I did not know this," said Sophia, listening open-mouthed. Her father
+had never spoken of the incident, and the curious affection which this
+high-born lady had for the old usurer of Kieff had ever been a source of
+wonder to her.
+
+"You know it now," said Boolba. "The Grand Duke has long since forgotten
+what he owes to Israel Kensky, but the Grand Duchess has not. Therefore,
+she comes to him with all her troubles--and that, Sophia Kensky, is why
+we have sent for you."
+
+There was a silence.
+
+"I see," she said at last, "you wish me to spy upon Israel Kensky and
+tell you all that happens."
+
+"I want to know all that passes between him and the Grand Duchess," said
+Boolba. "She comes to London to-morrow with her father, and it is
+certain she will seek out Israel Kensky. Every letter that passes
+between them must be opened."
+
+"But----" she began.
+
+"There is no 'but,'" roared Boolba. "Hear and obey; it is ordered!"
+
+He turned abruptly to the man on his left.
+
+"You understand, Yaroslav arrives in London to-morrow. It is desirable
+that he should not go away."
+
+"But, but, Excellency," stammered the man on his left, "here in London!"
+
+Boolba nodded.
+
+"But, Excellency," wailed the man, "in London we are safe; it is the one
+refuge to which our friends can come. If such a thing should happen,
+what would be our fate? We could not meet together. We should be hounded
+down by the police from morning until night; we should be deported--it
+would be the ruin of the great movement."
+
+"Nevertheless, it is an order," said Boolba doggedly; "this is a matter
+beyond the cause. It will gain us powerful protectors at the court, and
+I promise you that, though the commotion will be great, yet it will not
+last for very long, and you will be left undisturbed."
+
+"But----" began one of the audience, and Boolba silenced him with a
+gesture.
+
+"I promise that none of you shall come to harm, my little pigeons, and
+that you shall not be concerned in this matter."
+
+"But who will do it, Excellency?" asked another member.
+
+"That is too important to be decided without a meeting of all the
+brethren. For my part, I would not carry out such an order unless I
+received the instructions of our President."
+
+"I promise that none of you shall take a risk," sneered Boolba. "Now
+speak, Yakoff!"
+
+The man who had accompanied Sophia Kensky smiled importantly at the
+company, then turned to Sophia.
+
+"Must I say this before Sophia Kensky?" he asked.
+
+"Speak," said Boolba. "We are all brothers and sisters, and none will
+betray you."
+
+Yakoff cleared his throat.
+
+"When your Excellency wrote to me from Kieff, asking me to find a man, I
+was in despair," he began--an evidently rehearsed speech, "I tore my
+hair, I wept----"
+
+"Tell us what you have done," said the impatient Boolba. "For what does
+it matter, in the name of the saints and the holy martyrs" (everyone at
+the table, including Boolba, crossed himself) "whether your hair was
+torn or your head was hammered?"
+
+"It was a difficult task, Excellency," said Yakoff in a more subdued
+tone, "but Providence helped me. There is a good comrade of ours who is
+engaged in punishing the bourgeoisie by relieving them of their
+goods----"
+
+"A thief, yes," said Boolba.
+
+"Through him I learnt that a certain man had arrived in England and was
+in hiding. This man is a professional assassin."
+
+They looked at him incredulously, all except Boolba, who had heard the
+story before.
+
+"An assassin?" said one. "Of what nationality?"
+
+"American," said Yakoff, and there was a little titter of laughter.
+
+"It is true," interrupted Boolba. "This man, whom Yakoff has found, is
+what is known in New York as a gun-man. He belongs to a gang which was
+hunted down by the police, and our comrade escaped."
+
+"But an American!" persisted one of the unconvinced.
+
+"An American," said Yakoff. "This man is desired by the police on this
+side, and went in hiding with our other comrade, who recognized him."
+
+"A gun-man," said Boolba thoughtfully, and he used the English word with
+some awkwardness. "A gun-man. If he would only--is he here?" he
+demanded, looking up.
+
+Yakoff nodded.
+
+"Does he know----"
+
+"I have told him nothing, Excellency," said Yakoff, rising from the
+table with alacrity, "except to be here, near the entrance to the club,
+at this hour. Shall I bring him down?"
+
+Boolba nodded, and three minutes later, into this queer assembly,
+something of a fish out of water and wholly out of his element, strode
+Cherry Bim, that redoubtable man.
+
+He was a little, man, stoutly built and meanly dressed. He had a fat,
+good-humoured face and a slight moustache, and eyes that seemed laughing
+all the time.
+
+Despite the coldness of the night, he wore no waistcoat, and as a
+protest against the conventions he had dispensed with a collar. As he
+stood there, belted about his large waist, a billycock hat on the back
+of his head, he looked to be anything from a broken-down publican to an
+out-of-work plumber.
+
+He certainly did not bear the impress of gun-man.
+
+If he was out of his element, he was certainly not out of conceit with
+himself. He gave a cheery little nod to every face that was turned to
+him, and stood, his hands thrust through his belt, his legs wide apart,
+surveying the company with a benevolent smile.
+
+"Good evening, ladies and gents," he said. "Shake hands with Cherry Bim!
+Bim on my father's side and Cherry by christening--Cherry Bim, named
+after the angels." And he beamed again.
+
+This little speech, delivered in English, was unintelligible to the
+majority of those present, including Sophia Kensky, but Yakoff
+translated it. Solemnly he made a circuit of the company and as solemnly
+shook hands with every individual, and at last he came to Boolba; and
+only then did he hesitate for a second.
+
+Perhaps in that meeting there came to him some premonition of the
+future, some half-revealed, half-blurred picture of prophecy. Perhaps
+that picture was one of himself, lying in the darkness on the roof of
+the railway carriage, and an obscene Boolba standing erect in a
+motor-car on the darkened station, waving his rage, ere the three quick
+shots rang out.
+
+Cherry Bim confessed afterwards to a curious shivery sensation at his
+spine. The hesitation was only for a second, and then his hand gripped
+the big hand of the self-constituted chairman.
+
+"Now, gents and ladies," he said, with a comical little bow towards
+Sophia, "I understand you're all good sports here, and I'm telling you
+that I don't want to stay long. I'm down and out, and I'm free to
+confess it, and any of you ladies and gents who would like to grubstake
+a stranger in a foreign land, why, here's your chance. I'm open to take
+on any kind of job that doesn't bring me into conspicuous relationship
+with the bulls--bulls, ladies and gentlemen, being New York for
+policemen."
+
+Then Boolba spoke, and he spoke in English, slow but correct.
+
+"Comrade," he said, "do you hate tyrants?"
+
+"If he's a copper," replied Mr. Bim mistakenly. "Why, he's just as
+popular with me as a hollow tooth at an ice-cream party."
+
+"What does he say?" asked the bewildered Boolba, who could not follow
+the easy flow of Mr. Bim's conversation, and Yakoff translated to the
+best of his ability.
+
+And then Boolba, arresting the interruption of the American, explained.
+It was a long explanation. It dealt with tyranny and oppression and
+other blessed words dear to the heart of the revolutionary; it concerned
+millions of men and hundreds of millions of men and women in chains,
+under iron heels, and the like; and Mr. Bim grew more and more hazy, for
+he was not used to the parabole, the allegory, or the metaphor. But
+towards the end of his address, Boolba became more explicit, and, as his
+emotions were moved, his English a little more broken.
+
+Mr. Bim became grave, for there was no mistaking the task which had been
+set him.
+
+"Hold hard, mister," he said. "Let's get this thing right. There's a guy
+you want to croak. Do I get you right?"
+
+Again Mr. Yakoff translated the idioms, for Yakoff had not lived on the
+edge of New York's underworld without acquiring some knowledge of its
+language.
+
+Boolba nodded.
+
+"We desire him killed," he said. "He is a tyrant, an oppressor----"
+
+"Hold hard," said Bim. "I want to see this thing plain. You're going to
+croak this guy, and I'm the man to do it? Do I get you?"
+
+"That is what I desire," said Boolba, and Bim shook his head.
+
+"It can't be done," he said. "I'm over here for a quiet, peaceful life,
+and anyway, I've got nothing on this fellow. I'm not over here to get my
+picture in the papers. It's a new land to me--why, if you put me in
+Piccadilly Circus I shouldn't know which way to turn to get out of it!
+Anyway, that strong arm stuff is out so far as I'm concerned."
+
+"What does he say?" said Boolba again, and again Yakoff translated.
+
+"I thought you were what you call a gun-man," said Boolba with a curl of
+his lip. "I did not expect you to be frightened."
+
+"There's gun-men and gun-men," said Cherry Bim, unperturbed by the
+patent sarcasm. "And then there's me. I never drew a gun on a man in my
+life that didn't ask for it, or in the way of business. No, sirree. You
+can't hire Cherry Bim to do a low, vulgar murder."
+
+His tone was uncompromising and definite. Boolba realized that he could
+not pursue his argument with any profit to himself, and that if he were
+to bring this unwilling agent to his way of thinking a new line would
+have to be taken.
+
+"You will not be asked to take a risk for nothing," he said. "I am
+authorized to pay you twenty thousand roubles, that is, two thousand
+pounds in your money----"
+
+"Not mine," interrupted Bim. "It's ten thousand dollars you're trying to
+say. Well, even that doesn't tempt me. It's not my game, anyway," he
+said, pulling up a chair and sitting down in the most friendly manner.
+"And don't think you're being original when you offer me this
+commission. I've had it offered me before in New York City, and I've
+always turned it down, though I know my way to safety blindfolded.
+That's all there is to it, gentlemen--and ladies," he added.
+
+"So you refuse?" Neither Boolba's voice nor his manner was pleasant.
+
+"That's about the size of it," said Cherry Bim, rising. "I'm a grafter,
+I admit it. There ain't hardly anything I wouldn't do from smashing a
+bank downwards, to turn a dishonest penny. But, gents, I'm short of the
+necessary nerve, inclination, lack of morals, and general ungodliness,
+to take on murder in the first, second, or third degree."
+
+"You have courage, my friend," said Boolba significantly. "You do not
+suppose we should take you into our confidence and let you go away
+again so easily?"
+
+Mr. Bim's smile became broader.
+
+"Gents, I won't deceive you," he said. "I expected a rough house and
+prepared for it. Watch me!"
+
+He extended one of his hands in the manner of a conjurer and with the
+other pulled up the sleeve above the wrist. He turned the hands over,
+waggling the fingers as though he were giving a performance, and they
+watched him curiously.
+
+"There's nothing there, is there?" said Cherry Bim, beaming at the
+company, "and yet there is something there. Look!"
+
+No eyes were sharp enough to follow the quick movement of his hand. None
+saw it drop or rise again. There was a slur of movement, and then, in
+the hand which had been empty, was a long-barrelled Colt. Cherry Bim,
+taking no notice of the sensation he created, tossed the revolver to the
+ceiling and caught it again.
+
+"Now, gents, I don't know whether you're foolish or only just crazy. Get
+away from that door, Hector," he said to a long-haired man who stood
+with folded arms against the closed door. And "Hector," whose name was
+Nickolo Novoski Yasserdernski in real life, made haste to obey.
+
+"Wait a bit," said the careful gun-man. "That's a key in your waistcoat
+pocket, I guess." He thrust the barrel of his revolver against the
+other's side, and the long-haired man doubled up with a gasp. But Cherry
+Bim meant no mischief. The barrel of the gun clicked against the end of
+a key, and when Cherry Bim drew his revolver away the key was hanging to
+it!
+
+"Magnetic," the gun-man kindly explained; "it is a whim of mine."
+
+With no other words he passed through the door and slammed it behind
+him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE GRAND DUCHESS IRENE
+
+
+Israel Kensky was dozing before the fire when the sound of the creaking
+stair woke him. He walked softly to the door and listened, and presently
+he heard the steps of his daughter passing along the corridor. He opened
+the door suddenly and stepped out, and she jumped back with a little cry
+of alarm. There were moments when she was terribly afraid of her father,
+and such a moment came to her now.
+
+"Are you not asleep, Israel Kensky?" she faltered.
+
+"I could not sleep," replied the other, in so mild a tone that she took
+courage. "Come into my room. I wish to speak to you."
+
+He did not ask her where she had been, or to explain why, at three
+o'clock in the morning, she was dressed for the street, and she felt it
+necessary to offer some explanation.
+
+"You wonder why I am dressed?" she said.
+
+"I heard a great noise in the street, and went out to see----"
+
+"What does it matter?" said Israel Kensky. "Save your breath, little
+daughter. Why should you not walk in the street if you desire?"
+
+He switched on the light to augment the red glow which came from the
+fire.
+
+"Sit down, Sophia," he said, "I have been waiting for you. I heard you
+go out."
+
+She made no reply. There was fear in her eyes, and all the time she was
+conscious of many unpleasant interviews with her father--interviews
+which had taken place in Kieff and in other towns--the details of which
+she could never recall. And she was filled with a dread of some
+happening to which she could not give form or description. He saw her
+shifting in her chair and smiled slowly.
+
+"Get me the little box which is on my dressing-table, Sophia Kensky," he
+said.
+
+He was seated by the fire, his hands outstretched to the red coal. After
+a moment's hesitation she got up, went to the dressing-table, and
+brought back a small box. It was heavy and made of some metal over which
+a brilliant black enamel had been laid.
+
+"Open the box, Sophia Kensky," said the old man, not turning his head.
+
+She had a dim recollection that she had been asked to do this before,
+but again could not remember when or in what circumstances. She opened
+the lid and looked within. On a bed of black velvet was a tiny convex
+mirror, about the size of a sixpence. She looked at this, and was still
+looking at it when she walked slowly back to her chair and sat down. It
+had such a fascination, this little mirror, that she could not tear her
+eyes away.
+
+"Close your eyes," said Kensky in a monotonous voice, and she obeyed.
+"You cannot open them," said the old man, and she shook her head and
+repeated:
+
+"I cannot open them."
+
+"Now you shall tell me, Sophia Kensky, where you went this night."
+
+In halting tones she told him of her meeting with Yakoff, of their walk,
+of the cab, of the little door in the back street, and the stone stairs
+that led to the whitewashed passage; and then she gave, as near as she
+knew, a full account of all that had taken place. Only when she came to
+describe Bim and to tell of what he said, did she flounder. Bim had
+spoken in a foreign language, and the translation of Yakoff had conveyed
+very little to her. But in this part of the narrative the old man was
+less interested. Again and again he returned to Boolba and the plot.
+
+"What hand will kill the Grand Duke?" he asked, not once but many
+times, and invariably she answered:
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"On whose behalf does Boolba act?" asked the old man. "Think, Sophia
+Kensky! Who will give this foreigner twenty thousand roubles?"
+
+"I do not know," she answered again.
+
+Presently a note of distress was evident in her voice, and Israel Kensky
+rose up and took the box from her hand.
+
+"You will go to bed, Sophia Kensky," he said slowly and deliberately,
+"and to-morrow morning, when you wake, you shall not remember anything
+that happened after you came into this house to-night. You shall not
+remember that I spoke to you or that I asked you to look in the little
+box. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Israel Kensky," she replied slowly, and walked with weary feet
+from the room.
+
+Israel Kensky listened and heard her door click, then closed his own,
+and, sitting at a table, began to write quickly. He was still writing
+when the grey dawn showed in his windows at six o'clock. He blotted the
+last letter and addressed an envelope to "The Most Excellent and
+Illustrious Highness the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav" before, without
+troubling to undress, he sank down upon his bed into a sleep of
+exhaustion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Malcolm Hay had an appointment with Mr. Tremayne on the morning that saw
+Israel Kensky engaged in frantic letter-writing. It was about Kensky
+that Tremayne spoke.
+
+"He has arrived in London," he said, "and is staying in Colbury Terrace,
+Maida Vale. I think you had better see him, because, as I told you, he
+is a local big-wig and may be very useful to you. Our wells, as you
+know, are about thirty miles outside Kieff, which is the nearest big
+town, so you may be seeing him pretty often. Also, by the way, he is our
+agent. If you have any trouble with Government officials you must see
+Kensky, who can generally put things square."
+
+"I believe his daughter is with him," Mr. Tremayne went on, "but I know
+very little about her. Yet another neighbour of yours arrives by special
+train at midday."
+
+"Another neighbour of mine?" repeated Malcolm with a smile. "And who is
+that?"
+
+"The Grand Duke Yaroslav. I don't suppose you'll have very much to do
+with him, but he's the King Pippin in your part of the world."
+
+A clerk came in with a typewritten sheet covered with Russian
+characters.
+
+"Here's your letter of introduction to Kensky. He knows just as much
+English as you will want him to know."
+
+When Malcolm presented himself at the lodgings, it was to discover that
+the old Jew had gone out, and had left no message as to the time he
+would return. Since Malcolm was anxious to meet this important
+personage, he did not leave his letter, but went into the City to lunch
+with an old college chum. In the afternoon he decided to make his call,
+and only remembered, as he was walking up the Strand, that he had
+intended satisfying his curiosity as to that "other neighbour" of his,
+the Grand Duke Yaroslav.
+
+There was a little crowd about Charing Cross Station, though it was
+nearly two hours after midday when the Yaroslavs were due; and he was to
+discover, on inquiry of a policeman, that the cause of this public
+curiosity had been the arrival of two royal carriages.
+
+"Some Russian prince or other," said the obliging bobby. "The boat was
+late, and--here they come!"
+
+Malcolm was standing on the side-walk in the courtyard of Charing Cross
+Station when the two open landaus drove out through the archway. In the
+first was a man a little over middle age, wearing a Russian uniform; but
+Malcolm had no eyes for him--it was for the girl who sat by his side,
+erect, haughty, almost disdainful, with her splendid beauty, and
+apparently oblivious to all that was being said to her by the smiling
+young man who sat on the opposite seat.
+
+As the carriage came abreast and the postilions reined in their mounts
+before turning into the crowded Strand, the girl turned her head for a
+second and her eyes seemed to rest on Malcolm.
+
+Instinctively he lifted his hat from his head, but it was not the girl
+who returned his salutation, but the stiff figure of the elderly man at
+her side who raised his hand with an automatic gesture. Only for a
+second, and then she swept out of view, and Malcolm heaved a long, deep
+sigh.
+
+"Some dame!" said a voice at his side. "Well, I'm glad I saw him,
+anyway."
+
+Malcolm looked down at the speaker. He was a stout little man, who wore
+his hard felt hat at a rakish angle. The butt of a fat cigar was
+clenched between his teeth, and his genial eyes met Malcolm's with an
+inviting frankness which was irresistible.
+
+"That was his Grand Nibs, wasn't it?" asked the man, and Malcolm smiled.
+
+"That was the Grand Duke, I think," he said.
+
+"And who was the dame?"
+
+"The dame?"
+
+"I mean the lady, the young peacherino--gee! She was wonderful!"
+
+Malcolm shared his enthusiasm but was not prepared to express himself
+with such vigour.
+
+"That girl," said his companion, speaking with evident sincerity, "is
+wasted--what a face for a beauty chorus!"
+
+Malcolm laughed. He was not a very approachable man, but there was
+something about this stranger which broke down all barriers.
+
+"Well, I'm glad I've seen him," said Mr. Cherry Bim again emphatically.
+"I wonder what he's done."
+
+Malcolm turned to move off, and the little man followed his example.
+
+"What do you mean--what has he done?" asked the amused Malcolm.
+
+"Oh, nothing," said the other airily, "but I just wondered, that's all."
+
+"I'm glad I've seen them too," said Malcolm; "I nearly missed them. I
+was sitting so long over lunch----"
+
+"You're a lucky man," said Mr. Bim.
+
+"To have seen them?"
+
+"No, to have sat over lunch," said Cherry with an inward groan. "My! I'd
+like to see what a lunch looks like."
+
+Malcolm looked at the man with a new interest and a new sympathy.
+
+"Broke?" he asked, and the other grinned.
+
+"If I was only broke," he said, "there'd be no trouble. But what's the
+matter with me is that there ain't any pieces!"
+
+Cherry Bim noticed the hesitation in Malcolm's face and said:
+
+"I hope you're not worrying about hurting my feelings."
+
+"How?" said the startled Malcolm.
+
+"Why," drawled the other, "if it's among your mind that you'd like to
+slip me two dollars and you're afraid of me throwing it at you, why, you
+can get that out of your mind straightaway."
+
+Malcolm laughed and handed half a sovereign to the man.
+
+"Go and get something to eat," he said.
+
+"Hold hard," said the other as Malcolm was turning away. "What is your
+name?"
+
+"Does that matter?" asked the young man with amusement.
+
+"It matters a lot to me," said the other seriously. "I like to pay back
+anything I borrow."
+
+"Hay is my name--Malcolm Hay. It's no use giving you my address, because
+I shall be in Russia next week."
+
+"In Russia, eh? That's rum!" Cherry Bim scratched his unshaven chin.
+"I'm always meeting Russians."
+
+He looked at the young engineer thoughtfully, then, with a little jerk
+of his head and a "So long!" he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
+
+Malcolm looked at his watch. He would try Kensky again, he thought; but
+again his mission was fruitless. He might have given up his search for
+this will-o'-the-wisp but for the fact that his new employers seemed to
+attach considerable importance to his making acquaintance with this
+notability of Kieff. He could hardly be out after dinner--he would try
+again.
+
+He had dressed for the solitary meal, thinking that, if his quest again
+failed, he could spend the evening at a theatre. This time the elderly
+landlady of the house in which Mr. Kensky lodged informed him that her
+guest was at home; and a few moments later Malcolm was ushered into the
+presence of the old man.
+
+Israel Kensky eyed his visitor keenly, taking him in from his carefully
+tied dress-bow to the tips of his polished boots. It was an approving
+glance, for Kensky, though he lived in one of the backwaters of
+civilization; though his attitude to the privileged classes of the
+world--in which category he placed Malcolm, did that young man but know
+it--was deferential and even servile; had very definite views as to what
+was, and was not, appropriate in his superior's attire.
+
+He read through the letter which Malcolm had brought without a word,
+and then:
+
+"Pray sit down, Mr. Hay," he said in English. "I have been expecting
+you. I had a letter from Mr. Tremayne."
+
+Malcolm seated himself near the rough bench at which he cast curious
+eyes. The paraphernalia of Kensky's hobby still lay upon its surface.
+
+"You are wondering what an old Jew does to amuse himself, eh?" chuckled
+Kensky. "Do you think we in South Russia do nothing but make bombs? If I
+had not an aptitude for business," he said (he pronounced the word
+"pizziness," and it was one of the few mispronunciations he made), "I
+should have been a bookbinder."
+
+"It is beautiful work," said Malcolm, who knew something of the art.
+
+"It takes my mind from things," said Kensky, "and also it helps me--yes,
+it helps me very much."
+
+Malcolm did not ask him in what manner his craft might assist a
+millionaire merchant, for in those days he had not heard of the "Book of
+All-Power."
+
+The conversation which followed travelled through awkward stages and
+more awkward pauses. Kensky looked a dozen times at the clock, and on
+the second occasion Malcolm, feeling uncomfortable, rose to go, but was
+eagerly invited to seat himself again.
+
+"You are going to Russia?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is a strange country if you do not know it. And the Russians are
+strange people. And to Kieff also! That is most important."
+
+Malcolm did not inquire where the importance lay, and dismissed this as
+an oblique piece of politeness on the other's part.
+
+"I am afraid I am detaining you, Mr. Kensky. I merely came in to make
+your acquaintance and shake hands with you," he said, rising, after yet
+another anxious glance at the clock on the part of his host.
+
+"No, no, no," protested Kensky. "You must forgive me, Mr. Hay, if I seem
+to be dreaming and I do not entertain you. I am turning over in my mind
+so many possibilities, so many plans, and I think I have come to the
+right conclusion. You shall stay, and you shall know. I can rely upon
+your discretion, can I not?"
+
+"Certainly, but----"
+
+"I know I can!" said the old man, nodding "And you can help me. I am a
+stranger in London. Tell me, Mr. Hay, do you know the Cafe of the Silver
+Lion?"
+
+The other was staggered by the question.
+
+"No, I can't say that I do," he admitted. "I am a comparative stranger
+in London myself."
+
+"Ah, but you can find it. You know all the reference books, which are so
+much Greek to me; you could discover it by inquiring of the
+police--inquiries made very discreetly, you understand, Mr. Hay?"
+
+Malcolm wondered what he was driving at, but the old man changed the
+subject abruptly.
+
+"To-night you will see a lady here. She is coming to me. Again I ask for
+your discretion and your silence. Wait!"
+
+He shuffled to the window, pulled aside the blind and looked out.
+
+"She is here," he said in a whisper. "You will stand just there."
+
+He indicated a position which to Malcolm was ludicrously suggestive of
+his standing in a corner. Further explanations could neither be given
+nor asked for. The door opened suddenly and a girl came in, closing it
+behind her. She looked first at Kensky with a smile, and then at the
+stranger, and the smile faded from her lips. As for Malcolm, he was
+speechless. There was no doubt at all as to the identity. The straight
+nose, the glorious eyes, the full, parted lips.
+
+Kensky shuffled across to her, bent down and kissed her hand.
+
+"Highness," he said humbly, "this gentleman is a friend of mine. Trust
+old Israel Kensky, Highness!"
+
+"I trust you, Israel Kensky," she replied in Russian, and with the
+sweetest smile that Malcolm had ever seen in a woman.
+
+She bowed slightly to the young man, and for the rest of the interview
+her eyes and speech were for the Jew. He brought a chair forward for
+her, dusted it carefully, and she sat down by the table, leaning her
+chin on her palm, and looking at the old man.
+
+"I could not come before," she said. "It was so difficult to get away."
+
+"Your Highness received my letter?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"But Israel," her voice almost pleaded, "you do not believe that this
+thing would happen?"
+
+"Highness, all things are possible," said the old man. "Here in London
+the cellars and garrets teem with evil men."
+
+"But the police----" she began.
+
+"The police cannot shelter you, Highness, as they do in our Russia."
+
+"I must warn the Grand Duke," she said thoughtfully, "and"--she
+hesitated, and a shadow passed over her face--"and the Prince. Is it not
+him they hate?"
+
+Kensky shook his head.
+
+"Lady," he said humbly, "in my letter I told you there was something
+which could not be put on paper, and that I will tell you now. And if I
+speak of very high matters, your Highness must forgive an old man."
+
+She nodded, and again her laugh twinkled in her eyes.
+
+"Your father, the Grand Duke Yaroslav," he said, "has one child, who is
+your Highness."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"The heir to the Grand Dukedom is----" He stopped inquiringly.
+
+"The heir?" she said slowly. "Why, it is Prince Serganoff. He is with
+us."
+
+Malcolm remembered the olive-faced young man who had sat on the seat of
+the royal carriage facing the girl; and instinctively he knew that this
+was Prince Serganoff, though in what relationship he stood to the Grand
+Ducal pair he had no means of knowing.
+
+"The heir is Prince Serganoff," said the old man slowly, "and his
+Highness is an ambitious man. Many things can happen in our Russia,
+little lady. If the Grand Duke were killed----"
+
+"Impossible!" She sprang to her feet. "He would never dare! He would
+never dare!"
+
+Kensky spread out his expressive hands.
+
+"Who knows?" he said. "Men and women are the slaves of their ambition."
+
+She looked at him intently.
+
+"He would never dare," she said slowly. "No, no, I cannot believe that."
+
+The old man made no reply.
+
+"Where did you learn this, Israel Kensky?" she asked.
+
+"From a good source, Highness," he replied evasively, and she nodded.
+
+"I know you would not tell me this unless there were some foundation,"
+she said. "And your friend?" She looked inquiringly at the silent Hay.
+"Does he know?"
+
+Israel Kensky shook his head.
+
+"I would wish that the _gospodar_ knew as much as possible, because he
+will be in Kieff, and who knows what will happen in Kieff? Besides, he
+knows London."
+
+Malcolm did not attempt to deny the knowledge, partly because, in spite
+of his protest, he had a fairly useful working knowledge of the
+metropolis.
+
+"I shall ask the _gospodar_ to discover the meeting-place of the
+rabble."
+
+"Do you suggest," she demanded, "that Prince Serganoff is behind this
+conspiracy, that he is the person who inspired this idea of
+assassination?"
+
+Again the old man spread out his hands.
+
+"The world is a very wicked place," he said.
+
+"And the Prince has many enemies," she added with a bright smile. "You
+must know that, Israel Kensky. My cousin is Chief of the Political
+Police in St. Petersburg, and it is certain that people will speak
+against him."
+
+The old man was eyeing her thoughtfully.
+
+"Your Highness has much wisdom," he said, "and I remember, when you were
+a little girl, how you used to point out to me the bad men from the
+good. Tell me, lady, is Prince Serganoff a good man or a bad man? Is he
+capable or incapable of such a crime?"
+
+She did not answer. In truth she could not answer; for all that Kensky
+had said, she had thought. She rose to her feet.
+
+"I must go now, Israel Kensky," she said. "My car is waiting for me. I
+will write to you."
+
+She would have gone alone, but Malcolm Hay, with amazing courage,
+stepped forward.
+
+"If Your Imperial Highness will accept my escort to your car," he said
+humbly, "I shall be honoured."
+
+She looked at him in doubt.
+
+"I think I would rather go alone."
+
+"Let the young man go with you, Highness," said Kensky earnestly. "I
+shall feel safer in my mind."
+
+She nodded, and led the way down the stairs. They turned out of the
+garden into the street and did not speak a word. Presently the girl said
+in English:
+
+"You must think we Russian people are barbarians, Mr.----"
+
+"Hay," suggested Malcolm.
+
+"Mr. Hay. That is Scottish, isn't it? Tell me, do you think we are
+uncivilized?"
+
+"No, Your Highness," stammered Malcolm. "How can I think that?"
+
+They walked on until they came in sight of the tail lights of the car,
+and then she stopped.
+
+"You must not come any farther," she said. "You can stand here and watch
+me go. Do you know any more than Israel Kensky told?" she asked, a
+little anxiously.
+
+"Nothing," he replied in truth.
+
+She offered her hand, and he bent over it.
+
+"Good night, Mr. Hay. Do not forget, I must see you in Kieff."
+
+He watched the red lights of the car disappear and walked quickly back
+to old Kensky's rooms. Russia and his appointment had a new fascination.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE PRINCE WHO PLANNED
+
+
+Few people knew or know how powerful a man Prince Serganoff really was
+in these bad old days. He waved his hand and thousands of men and women
+disappeared. He beckoned and he had a thousand sycophantic suppliants.
+
+In the days before he became Chief of the Police to the entourage, he
+went upon a diplomatic mission to High Macedonia, the dark and sinister
+state. He was sent by none, but he had a reason, for Dimitrius, his
+sometime friend, had fled to the capital of the higher Balkan state and
+Serganoff went down without authority to terrify his sometime confidant
+into returning for trial. In High Macedonia the exquisite young man was
+led by sheer curiosity to make certain inquiries into the domestic
+administration of the country, and learnt things.
+
+He had hardly made himself master of these before he was sent for by the
+Foreign Minister.
+
+"Highness," said the suave man, stroking his long, brown beard, "how
+long have you been in the capital?"
+
+"Some four days, Excellency," said the Prince.
+
+"That is ninety-six hours too long," said the minister. "There is a
+train for the north in forty minutes. You will catch that, and God be
+with you!"
+
+Prince Serganoff did not argue but went out from the ornate office, and
+the Minister called a man who was waiting.
+
+"If his Highness does not leave by the four o'clock train, cut his
+throat and carry the body to one of the common houses of the
+town--preferably that of the man Domopolo, the Greek, who is a bad
+character, and well deserving of death."
+
+"Excellency," said the man gravely, and saluted his way out.
+
+They knew Serganoff in High Macedonia and were a little anxious. Had
+they known him better they would have feared him less. He did not leave
+by the four o'clock train, but by a special which was across the
+frontier by four. He sat in a cold sweat till the frontier post was
+past.
+
+This man was a mass of contradictions. He liked the good things of life.
+He bought his hosiery in Paris, his shoes in Vienna, his suits and
+cravats in New York; and it is said of him that he made a special
+pilgrimage to London--the Mecca of those who love good leather
+work--for the characteristic attache cases which were so indispensable
+to the Chief of Gendarmerie of the Marsh Town.
+
+He carried with him the irrepressible trimness and buoyancy of youth,
+with his smooth, sallow face, his neat black moustache and his
+shapeliness of outline. An exquisite of exquisites, he had never felt
+the draughts of life or experienced its rude buffetings.
+
+His perfectly-appointed flat in the Morskaya had been modelled to his
+taste and fancy. It was a suite wherein you pressed buttons and
+comfortable things happened. You opened windows and boiled water, or
+summoned a valet to your bedside by the gentle pressure you applied to a
+mother-of-pearl stud set in silver plate which, by some miracle, was
+always within reach.
+
+He had an entire suite converted to bath-rooms, where his masseur, his
+manicurist and his barber attended him daily. He had conscripted modern
+science to his service, he had so cunningly disguised its application,
+that you might never guess the motive power of the old English clock
+which ticked in the spacious hall, or realize that the soft light which
+came from the many branched candelabra which hung from the centre of his
+drawing-room was due to anything more up to date than the hundred most
+life-like candles which filled the sockets.
+
+Yet this suave gentleman with his elegant manners and his pretty taste
+in old china, this genius who was the finest judge in the capital of
+Pekinese dogs, and had been known to give a thousand-rouble fee to the
+veterinary surgeon who performed a minor operation on his favourite
+Borzoi, had another aspect. He who shivered at the first chill winds of
+winter and wrapped himself in sables whenever he drove abroad after the
+last days of September, and had sent men and women to the bleakness of
+Alexandrowski without a qualm; he who had to fortify himself to face an
+American dentist (his fees for missed appointments would have kept the
+average middle-class family in comfort for a year), was ruthless in his
+dealings with the half-crazed men and women who strayed across the
+frontier which divided conviction from propaganda.
+
+Physical human suffering left him unmoved--he hanged the murderer
+Palatoff with his own hands. Yet in that operation someone saw him turn
+very pale and shrink back from his victim. Afterwards the reason was
+discovered. The condemned man had had the front of his rough shirt
+fastened with a safety-pin which had worked loose. The point had ripped
+a little gash in the inexperienced finger of the amateur hangman.
+
+He brought Dr. Von Krauss from Berlin, because von Krauss was an
+authority upon blood infection and spent a week of intense mental agony
+until he was pronounced out of danger.
+
+He sat before a long mirror in his bedroom, that gave on Horridge's
+Hotel, and surveyed himself thoughtfully. He was looking at the only man
+he trusted, for it was not vanity, but a love of agreeable company that
+explained the passion for mirrors which was the jest of St. Petersburg.
+
+It was his fourth day in London and a little table near the window was
+covered with patterns of cloth; he had spent an exciting afternoon with
+the representative of his tailor. But it was not of sartorial
+magnificence that he was thinking.
+
+He stretched out his legs comfortably towards his reflection, and
+smiled.
+
+"Yes," he said, as though answering some secret thought, and he and the
+reflection nodded to one another as though they had reached a complete
+understanding.
+
+Presently he pushed the bell and his valet appeared.
+
+"Has the Grand Duke gone?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, Excellency," replied the man.
+
+"And the Grand Duchess?"
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+"Good!" Serganoff nodded.
+
+"Is your Excellency's headache better?" asked the man.
+
+"Much better," replied the Chief of Police. "Go to their Highness's
+suite, and tell their servant--what is the man's name?"
+
+"Boolba, Excellency," said the valet.
+
+"Yes, that is the fellow. Ask him to come to me. The Grand Duke
+mentioned a matter which I forgot to tell Boolba."
+
+Boolba made his appearance, a suave domestic, wearing the inconspicuous
+livery of an English butler rather than the ornate uniform which
+accompanied his office in Kieff.
+
+"That will do." Serganoff dismissed his valet. "Boolba, come here."
+
+The man approached him and Serganoff lowered his voice.
+
+"You have made a fool of me again, Boolba."
+
+"Excellency," pleaded the man urgently, "I have done all that was
+possible."
+
+"You have placed my fortune and my life in the hands of an American
+criminal. If that is your idea of doing all that is possible, I agree
+with you," said Serganoff. "Be careful, Boolba! The arm of the Bureau is
+a very long one, and greater men than you have disappeared from their
+homes."
+
+"Illustrious Excellency," said the agitated man, "I swear to you I did
+all that you requested. There were many reasons why I should not entrust
+this matter to the men of the secret society."
+
+"I should like to hear a few," said Serganoff, cleaning his nails
+delicately.
+
+"Excellency, the Grand Duke stands well with the society. He had never
+oppressed them, and he is the only popular member of the Imperial House
+with our--their society."
+
+"Our society, eh?" said Serganoff, noticing the slip. "Go on."
+
+"Besides, Excellency," said Boolba, "it was necessary not only to kill
+the Grand Duke, but to shoot down his assassin. Our plan was to get this
+American to shoot him in the park, where he walks in the morning, and
+then for one of the society to shoot the American. That was a good plan,
+because it meant that the man who could talk would talk no more, and
+that the comrade who shot down the murderer would stand well with the
+Government."
+
+Serganoff nodded.
+
+"And your plan has failed," he said, "failed miserably at the outset.
+You dog!"
+
+He leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing, and Boolba stepped back.
+
+"Highness, wait, wait!" he cried. "I have something else in my mind! I
+could have helped Highness better if I had known more. But I could only
+guess. I had to grope in the dark all the time."
+
+"Do you imagine I am going to take you into my confidence?" asked
+Serganoff. "What manner of fool am I? Tell me what you have guessed. You
+may sit down; nobody will come in, and if they do you can be buttoning
+my boots."
+
+Boolba wiped his damp face with a handkerchief and leaned nearer to the
+man.
+
+"If the Grand Duke dies, a certain illustrious person succeeds to his
+estates," he said, "but not to his title."
+
+Serganoff looked at him sharply. The man had put into words the one
+difficulty which had occupied the mind of the Chief of Police for
+months.
+
+"Well?" he said.
+
+"The title is in the gift of the Czar," said Boolba. "He alone can
+create a Grand Duke who succeeds but is not in the direct line.
+Therefore, the killing of Yaroslav would bring little but the property
+to the illustrious person. Only if His Imperial Majesty decided upon a
+worthier holder, or if the Grand Duke fell under a cloud at Court, could
+it pass to the illustrious person."
+
+"That I know," said Serganoff. "Well?"
+
+"Well, Highness, would it not be better if the Grand Duke were
+disgraced, if he were brought to St. Petersburg to answer certain
+charges which the illustrious person formulated? After, the Grand Duke
+might die--that is a simple matter. Russia would think that he had been
+put to death by the Court party as a matter of policy. Yaroslav is not
+in favour at the Court," he added significantly; but Serganoff shook his
+head.
+
+"He is not sufficiently out of favour yet," he said. "Go on, man, you
+have something in your mind."
+
+Boolba edged closer.
+
+"Suppose the Grand Duke or the Grand Duchess were involved in some
+conspiracy against the Imperial House?" he said, speaking rapidly.
+"Suppose, on evidence which could not be disputed, such as the evidence
+of the London police, it was proved that either the Grand Duke or his
+daughter was in league with an anarchist society, or was attending their
+meetings--does your Excellency see?"
+
+"I see," said Serganoff, "but they do not attend meetings."
+
+Boolba hesitated.
+
+"Yet," he said, speaking slowly, "I would guarantee that I could bring
+the Grand Duchess Irene to such a meeting, and that I could arrange for
+the place to be raided whilst she was there."
+
+Serganoff put down his orange stick and eyed the other keenly.
+
+"You have brains, Boolba," he said. "Some day I shall bring you to St.
+Petersburg and place you on my staff--if you do not know too much."
+
+He paced the apartment, his hands clasped behind his back.
+
+"Suppose you get in touch with this American again, bring him to the
+meeting, unless he's afraid to come, and then boldly suggest to him that
+he goes to St. Petersburg to make an attempt upon the life of the Czar
+himself."
+
+"He would reject it," said Boolba, shaking his head.
+
+"What if he did--that doesn't matter," said Serganoff impatiently. "It
+is sufficient that the suggestion is made. Suppose this man is amongst
+these infamous fellows when the London police raid and arrest them, and
+he makes a statement that he was approached to destroy the Imperial
+life, and the Grand Duchess Irene is arrested at the same time?"
+
+Boolba's eyes brightened.
+
+"That is a wonderful idea, Highness," he said admiringly.
+
+Serganoff continued his pacing, and presently stopped.
+
+"I will arrange the police raid," he said. "I am in communication with
+Scotland Yard, and it will be better if I am present when the raid is
+conducted. It is necessary that I should identify myself with this
+chapter," he said, "but how will you induce the Grand Duchess to come?"
+
+"Leave that to me, Highness," replied the man, and gave some details of
+his scheme.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE RAID ON THE SILVER LION
+
+
+Sophia Kensky was a loyal and faithful adherent to the cause she had
+espoused, and her report, written in the weird caligraphy of Russia,
+greatly interested the butler of the Grand Duke Yaroslav. From that
+report he learned of the visit which the Grand Duchess Irene had paid;
+learned, too, that she had been escorted to her car by an Englishman,
+whose name the woman did not know; and was to discover later that the
+said "Englishman" had been sent out by Israel Kensky on a special
+mission. That mission was to discover the Silver Lion, a no very
+difficult task. In point of fact, it was discoverable in a London
+telephone directory, because the upper part of the premises were used
+legitimately enough in the proprietor's business as restaurateur.
+
+Malcolm Hay had lunch at the place and saw nothing suspicious in its
+character. Most of the clientele were obviously foreign, and not a few
+were Russian. Pretending to lose his way, he wandered through the
+service door, and there made the important discovery that the kitchen
+was on the top floor, and also that meals were being served somewhere in
+the basement. This he saw during the few minutes he was allowed to make
+observations, because there was a service lift which was sent down to
+the unseen clients below.
+
+He apologized for his intrusion and went out. Officially there was no
+basement-room, nor, from the restaurant itself, any sign of stairs which
+led down to an underground chamber. He made a further reconnaissance,
+and found the back door which Sophia Kensky had described in her
+hypnotic sleep, and the location of which the old man had endeavoured to
+convey to his agent.
+
+Malcolm Hay was gifted with many of the qualities which make up the
+equipment of a good detective. In addition, he had the education and
+training of an engineer. That the underground room existed, he knew by
+certain structural evidence, and waited about in the street until he saw
+three men come out and the door close behind them. After awhile, another
+two emerged. There was nothing sinister or romantic about the existence
+of a basement dining-room, or even of a basement club-room.
+
+The character of this club was probably well known to the police, he
+thought, and pursued his inquiries to Marlborough Street police station.
+There he found, as he had expected, that the club was registered and
+known as "The Foreign Friends of Freedom Club." The officer who supplied
+him with the information told him that the premises were visited at
+frequent intervals by a representative of the police, and that nothing
+of an irregular character had been reported.
+
+"Have you any complaints to make?" asked the official.
+
+"None whatever," smiled Hay. "Only I am writing an article on the
+foreign clubs of London, and I want to be sure of my facts."
+
+It was the first and most plausible lie that occurred to him, and it
+answered his purpose. He returned to Kensky with his information, and
+the old man producing a map of London, he marked the spot with a red
+cross. All this time Malcolm Hay was busy making preparations for
+departure. He would have been glad to stay on, so that his leaving
+London would coincide with the departure of the Grand Duchess, but his
+sleeper had already been booked, and he had to make a call _en route_ at
+Vienna.
+
+It was on the occasion of this visit with details of the location and
+character of the club, that he first saw Sophia Kensky. He thought her
+pretty in a bold, heavy way, and she regarded him with insolent
+indifference. It was one of the few occasions in his life that he spoke
+with her.
+
+"The _gospodar_ is going to Kieff, Sophia Kensky," introduced the old
+man.
+
+"What will you do in Kieff, Excellency?" asked the woman indolently.
+
+"I shall not be in Kieff," smiled Hay, "except on rare occasions. I am
+taking charge of some oil-wells about twenty versts outside of the
+town."
+
+"It is a terrible life, living in the country," she said, and he was
+inclined to agree.
+
+This and a few trite sentiments about Russian weather and Russian
+seasons were the only words he ever exchanged with her in his life.
+Years later, when he stood, hardly daring to breathe, in the cupboard of
+a commissary's office, and heard her wild denunciation of the man who
+had sent her to death, he was to recall this first and only meeting.
+
+Israel Kensky dismissed his daughter without ceremony, and it was then
+that Malcolm Hay told him the result of his investigations. The old man
+sat for a long time stroking his beard.
+
+"Two more days they stay in this town," he said, half to himself, "and
+that is the dangerous time."
+
+He looked up sharply at Hay.
+
+"You are clever, and you are English," he said. "Would you not help an
+old man to save this young life from misery and sorrow?"
+
+Malcolm Hay looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"To save whom?" he asked.
+
+"The Grand Duchess," replied Kensky moodily. "It is for her I fear, more
+than for her father."
+
+Malcolm Hay was on the point of blurting out the very vital truth that
+there was nothing in the wide world he would not do to save that
+wonderful being from the slightest ache or pain, but thought it best to
+dissemble the craziest of infatuations that ever a penniless and obscure
+engineer felt for a daughter of the Imperial House of Russia. Instead he
+murmured some conventional expression of his willingness.
+
+"It is in this club that the danger lies," said Kensky. "I know these
+societies, Mr. Hay, and I fear them most when they look most innocent."
+
+"Could you not get the police to watch?" asked Malcolm.
+
+Had he lived in Russia, or had he had the experience which was his in
+the following twelve months, he would not have asked so absurd a
+question.
+
+"No, no," said Kensky, "this is not a matter for the police. It is a
+matter for those who love her."
+
+"What can I do?" asked Malcolm hastily.
+
+He had a horrible feeling that his secret had been surprised, for he was
+of the age when love is fearless of everything except ridicule.
+
+"You could watch the club," said Kensky. "I myself would go, but I am
+too old, and this English weather makes me sick."
+
+"You mean actually watch it?" said Malcolm in surprise. "Why, I'll do
+that like a shot!"
+
+"Note who goes in and who come out," said Kensky. "Be on hand at all
+times, in case you are called upon for help. You will see my daughter
+there," he said, after a pause, and a faint smile curved his pale lips.
+"Yes, Sophia Kensky is a great conspirator!"
+
+"Whom do you expect me to see?" asked the other bluntly.
+
+Kensky got up from his chair and went to a leather bag which stood on
+the sideboard. This he unlocked, and from a mass of papers took a
+photograph. He brought it back to the young man.
+
+"Why," said Malcolm in surprise, "that is the man Serganoff, the Prince
+fellow!"
+
+Kensky nodded slowly.
+
+"That is Serganoff," he said. "Here is another picture of him, but not
+of his face."
+
+It was, in fact, a snapshot photograph showing the back of the Police
+Chief; and it might have been, thought Malcolm, of a tailor's dummy,
+with its wasp waist and its perfectly creased trousers.
+
+"Particularly I wish to know whether he will visit the club in the next
+two days," said the old man. "It is important that you should look for
+him."
+
+"Anybody else?"
+
+Kensky hesitated.
+
+"I hope not," he said. "I hope not!"
+
+Malcolm Hay went back to his hotel, feeling a new zest in life. His
+experience of the past few days had been incredible. He, an unknown
+student, had found himself suddenly plunged into the heart of an
+anarchist plot, and on nodding terms with royal highnesses! He laughed
+softly as he sat on the edge of his bed and reviewed all the
+circumstances, but did not laugh when the thought occurred to him that
+the danger which might be threatening this girl was very real.
+
+That side of the adventure sobered him. He had sense enough to see that
+it was the unalienable right of youth to believe in fairies and to love
+beautiful princesses, and that such passions were entitled to disturb
+the rest and obscure the judgment of their victims for days and even for
+weeks. But he had an unpleasant conviction that he was looking at the
+Grand Duchess from an angle which was outside his experience of fairy
+stories.
+
+That night when he went on his way to take up his "police duty" in the
+little street behind the Silver Lion, he saw two mounted policemen
+trotting briskly down the Strand followed by a closed carriage, and in
+the light of the electric standard he caught a glimpse of a face which
+set his heart beating faster. He cursed himself for his folly, swore so
+vigorously and so violently at his own stupidity, that he did not
+realize he was talking aloud, until the open-mouthed indignation of an
+elderly lady brought him to a sense of decorum.
+
+She was going to the theatre, of course, he thought, and wondered what
+theatre would be graced by her presence. He half regretted his promise
+to Israel Kensky, which prevented him discovering the house of
+entertainment and securing a box or a stall from whence he could feast
+his eyes upon her face.
+
+His vigil was painfully monotonous. It was the most uninteresting job he
+had ever undertaken. Most of the habitues of the club had evidently come
+at an early hour, for he saw nobody come in and nobody go out until
+nearly eleven o'clock. It began to rain a fine, thin drizzle, which
+penetrated every crevice, which insinuated itself down his neck, though
+his collar was upturned; and then, on top of this, came a gusty easterly
+wind, which chilled him to the marrow. Keeping in the shadow of the
+houses opposite, he maintained, however, a careful scrutiny, thereby
+earning the suspicion of a policeman, who passed him twice on his beat
+before he stopped to ask if he were looking for somebody.
+
+As midnight chimed from a neighbouring church the door of the club
+opened and its members came out. Malcolm crossed the road and walked
+down to meet them, since they all seemed to be coming in the same
+direction.
+
+There were about twenty men, and they were speaking in Russian or
+Yiddish, but the subjects of their discourse were of the most innocent
+character. He saw nobody he knew, or had ever seen before. Israel Kensky
+had expected that the St. Petersburg Chief of Police would be present;
+that expectation was not realized. Then he heard the door bolted and
+chained, and went home, after the most unprofitable evening he had ever
+spent.
+
+How much better it would have been to sit in the warm theatre, with,
+perhaps, a clear view of the girl, watching her every movement, seeing
+her smile, noting her little tricks of manner or gesture.
+
+In the end he laughed himself into a sane condition of mind, ate a
+hearty supper, and went to bed to dream that Serganoff was pursuing him
+with a hammer in his hand, and that the Grand Duchess was sitting in a
+box wildly applauding the efforts of her homicidal relative.
+
+The next afternoon Malcolm Hay was packing, with the remainder of his
+belongings, a few articles he had purchased in London. Amongst these was
+a small and serviceable Colt revolver, and he stood balancing this in
+the palm of his hand, uncertain as to whether it would not be better to
+retain his weapon until after his present adventure. Twice he put it
+into his portmanteau and twice took it out again, and finally, blushing
+at the act, he slipped the weapon into his hip-pocket.
+
+He felt theatrical and cheap in doing so. He told himself that he was
+investing a very common-place measure of precaution taken by old Israel
+Kensky, who was probably in the secret police, to protect his protegee,
+with an importance and a romance which it did not deserve. He went down
+to his post that night, feeling horribly self-conscious. This time he
+kept on the same side of the street as that on which the club was
+situated.
+
+His watch was rewarded by events of greater interest than had occurred
+on the previous night. He had not been on duty half an hour before two
+men walked rapidly from the end of the street and passed him so closely
+that he could not make any mistake as to the identity of one. Had he not
+been able to recognize him, his voice would have instantly betrayed his
+identity, for, as they passed, the shorter of the two was talking.
+
+"I'm one of those guys who don't believe in starving to death in a
+delicatessen store----"
+
+Malcolm looked after the pair in amazement. It was the little man whom
+he had befriended in the courtyard at Charing Cross station. Other
+people drifted through the door in ones and twos, and then a man came
+walking smartly across the street, betraying the soldier at every
+stride. Malcolm turned and strolled in his direction.
+
+There was no mistaking him either, though he was muffled up to the chin.
+With his tight-waisted greatcoat, a glimpse of an olive face with two
+piercing dark eyes, which flashed an inquiring glance as they
+passed--there was no excuse for error. It was Colonel Prince Serganoff
+beyond a doubt.
+
+A quarter of an hour later came the real shock of the evening. A girl
+was almost on top of him before he saw her, for she was wearing shoes
+which made no sound. He had only time to turn so that she did not see
+his face, before she too entered the door and passed in. The Grand
+Duchess! And Serganoff! And the American adventurer!
+
+What had these three in common, he wondered. And now he recalled the
+warning of the old man. Perhaps the girl was in danger--the thought
+brought him to the door, with his hand raised and touching the bell-push
+before he realized his folly. There was nothing to do but wait.
+
+Five minutes passed and ten minutes, and then Malcolm Hay became
+conscious of the fact that something unusual was happening in the
+street. It was more thickly populated. Half a dozen men had appeared at
+either end of the street and were moving slowly towards him, as
+though----
+
+And then in a flash he realized just what was happening. It was a police
+raid. In his student days he had seen such a raid upon a gambling house,
+and he recognized all the signs. He first thought of the girl--she must
+not be involved in this. He raced toward the door, but somebody had ran
+quicker, and his hand was on the bell-push when he was swung violently
+backwards, and an authoritative voice said:
+
+"Take that man, sergeant."
+
+A hand gripped his shoulder and somebody peered in his face.
+
+"Why, he's English," he said in surprise.
+
+"Yes, yes," gasped Malcolm. "I'm sorry to interfere, but there is a lady
+in there, in whom I'm rather interested--you're raiding this club,
+aren't you?"
+
+"That's about the size of it," said a man in civilian clothes; and then,
+suspiciously, "Who are you?"
+
+Malcolm explained his status and calling.
+
+"Take my advice and get away. Don't be mixed up in this business," said
+the officer. "You can release him, sergeant. What's the time?"
+
+A clock struck at that moment, and the officer in charge of the raid
+pressed the bell.
+
+"If you've a lady friend involved in this, perhaps you'd like to stand
+by," he said. "She may want you to bail her out," he added
+good-humouredly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+PRINCE SERGANOFF PAYS THE PRICE
+
+
+Mr. Cherry Bim, a citizen of the world, and an adventurer at large, was
+an optimist to his finger-tips. He also held certain races in profound
+contempt, not because he knew the countries, but because he had met
+representatives of those nations in America, and judged by their
+characteristics.
+
+So that the man called Yakoff, whose task it was to inveigle Mr. Bim
+again to the premises of the Friends of Freedom Club, found to his
+astonishment that Mr. Bim required very little inveigling. The truth
+was, of course, that the gun-man had a supreme contempt for all
+Russians, whom he had classified mistakenly as "Lithanians" and
+"Pollaks." To the fervent promise made by Mr. Yakoff that no harm would
+come to him, Cherry Bim had replied briefly but unprintably.
+
+"Of course, there'll be no harm come to me," he said scornfully. "You
+don't think I worry about what that bunch will do? No, sir! But I'm
+powerfully disinclined to associate myself with people out of my class.
+It doesn't do a man any good to be seen round with Pollaks and Letts."
+
+Yakoff earnestly implored him to come and give the benefit of his
+experience to the assembly, and had promised him substantial payment.
+This latter argument was one which Cherry Bim could understand and
+appreciate. He accepted on the spot, and came down to the stuffy little
+underground room, expecting no more than to be asked to deliver a
+lecture on the gentle art of assassination. Not that he knew very much
+about it, because Cherry, with three or four men to his credit, had shot
+them in fair fight; but a hundred pounds was a lot of money, and he
+badly needed just enough to shake the mud of England from his shoes and
+seek a land more prolific in possibilities.
+
+The first thing he noticed on arrival was that Boolba, the man who had
+interrogated him before, was not present. In his place sat a smaller
+man, with a straggly black beard and a white face, who was addressed as
+"Nicholas."
+
+The second curious circumstance which struck him was that he was
+received also in an ominous silence.
+
+The black-bearded man, who spoke in perfect English, indicated a chair
+to the left of him.
+
+"Sit down, comrade," he said. "We have asked you to come because we
+have another proposition to make to you."
+
+"If it's a croaking proposition, you needn't go any farther," said
+Cherry, "and I won't trouble you with my presence, gents, and----" he
+looked in vain for the woman he had seen before, and added, that he
+might round off his sentence gracefully--"fellow murderers."
+
+"Mr. Bim," said Nicholas in his curious singsong tone, "does it not make
+your blood boil to see tyranny in high places----"
+
+"Now, can that stuff!" said Cherry Bim. "Nothing makes my blood boil, or
+would make my blood boil, except sitting on a stove, I guess. Tyranny
+don't mean any more in my young life than Hennessy, and tyrants more
+than hydrants. I guess I was brought up in a land of freedom and glory,
+where the only tyrant you ever meet is a traffic cop. If this is another
+croaking job, why, gents, I won't trouble you any longer."
+
+He half-rose, but Nicholas pushed him down.
+
+"Not even if it was the Czar?" he said calmly.
+
+Cherry Bim gaped at him.
+
+"The Czar?" he said, with a queer little grimace to emphasize his
+disbelief in the evidence of his hearing. "What are you getting at?"
+
+"Would you shoot the Czar for two thousand pounds?" asked Nicholas.
+
+Cherry Bim pushed his hat to the back of his head and got up, shaking
+off the protesting arm.
+
+"I'm through," he said, "and that's all there is to it."
+
+It was at that moment that Serganoff came through the door and Cherry
+Bim remained where he stood, surprised to silence, for the face of the
+newcomer was covered from chin to forehead by a black silk mask.
+
+The door was shut behind him; he walked slowly to the table and dropped
+into a broken chair, Cherry's eyes never leaving his face.
+
+"For fifteen years," said the gun-man, speaking slowly, "I've been a
+crook, but never once have I seen a guy got up like that villain in a
+movie picture. Say, mister, let's have a look at your face."
+
+Cherry Bim was not the only person perturbed by the arrival of a masked
+stranger. Only three men in the room were in the secret of the
+newcomer's identity, and suspicious and scowling faces were turned upon
+him.
+
+"You will excuse me," said the mask, "but there are many reasons why you
+should not see me or know me again."
+
+"And there's a mighty lot of reasons why you shouldn't know me again,"
+said Cherry, "yet I've obliged you with a close-up of my distinguished
+features."
+
+"You have heard the proposition," said the man. "What do you think of
+it?"
+
+"I think it's a fool proposition," replied Cherry contemptuously. "I've
+told these lads before that I am not falling for the Lucretia Borgia
+stuff, and I'm telling you the same."
+
+The masked man chuckled.
+
+"Well, don't let us quarrel," he said. "Nicholas, give him the money we
+promised."
+
+Nicholas put his hand in his pocket and brought out a roll of notes,
+which he tossed to the man on his left, and Cherry Bim, to whom tainted
+money was as acceptable as tainted pheasant to the epicure, pocketed it
+with a smack of his lips.
+
+"Now, if there's anything I can do for you boys," he said, "here's your
+chance to make use of me. Though I say it myself, there ain't a man in
+New York with my experience, tact and finesse. Show me a job that can be
+done single-handed, with a dividend at the end of it, and I'll show you
+a man who can take it on. In the meantime," said he affably, "the drinks
+are on me. Call the waiter, and order the best in the house."
+
+Serganoff held up his hand.
+
+"Wait," he said; "was that the door?"
+
+Nicholas nodded, and the whole room stood in silence and watched the
+door slowly open. There was a gasp of astonishment, of genuine
+surprise, for Irene Yaroslav was well known to them, and it was Irene
+Yaroslav who stood with her back to the door. She wore a long black
+cloak of sable and by her coiffure it was evident that she was wearing
+an evening toilette beneath the cloak.
+
+"Where is Israel Kensky?" she asked.
+
+She did not immediately see the man in the masked face, for he sat under
+a light and his broad-brimmed hat threw his face into shadow.
+
+Nobody answered her, and she asked again:
+
+"Where is Israel Kensky?"
+
+"He is not here," said Serganoff coolly, as she took two paces and
+stopped dead, clasping her hands before her.
+
+"What does this mean?" she asked. "What are you doing here, Ser----"
+
+"Stop!" His voice was almost a shout, and yet there was a shake in it.
+
+Serganoff realized the danger of his own position, if amongst these men
+were some who had cause to hate him.
+
+"Do not mention my name, Irene."
+
+"What are you doing here?" she asked. "And where is Israel Kensky?"
+
+"He has not come," Serganoff's voice was uneven and his hands shook.
+
+She turned to go, but he was before her and stood with his back to the
+entrance.
+
+"You will wait," he said.
+
+"What insolence is this?" she demanded haughtily. "I had a letter from
+Israel Kensky telling me to come here under his protection and I should
+learn the truth of the plot against my father."
+
+Serganoff had recovered something of his self-possession and laughed
+softly.
+
+"It was I who sent you that letter, Irene. I sent it because I
+particularly desired you here at this moment."
+
+"You shall pay for this," she said, and tried to force her way past him,
+but his strong hands gripped her and pushed her back.
+
+She turned with a flaming face upon the men.
+
+"Are you men," she asked, "that you allow this villain, who betrayed my
+father and will betray you, to treat a woman so."
+
+She spoke in Russian, and nobody moved. Then a voice said:
+
+"Speak English, miss."
+
+She turned and glanced gratefully at the stout little man with his
+grotesque Derby hat and his good-humoured smile.
+
+"I have been brought here by a trick," she said breathlessly, "by this
+man"--she pointed to Serganoff. "Will you help me leave? You're English,
+aren't you?"
+
+"American, miss," said Cherry Bim. "And as for helping you, why, bless
+you, you can class me as your own little bodyguard."
+
+"Stop!" cried Serganoff hoarsely, and instinctively, at the sight of the
+levelled revolver. Cherry's hands went up. "You'll keep out of this and
+do not interfere," said Serganoff. "You'll have all the trouble you want
+before this evening is through. Irene, come here."
+
+At one side of the room was a narrow doorway, which most of the members
+believed led to a cupboard, but which a few knew was a safety bolt in
+case of trouble. The Prince had recognized the door by its description,
+and had edged his way towards it, taking the key from his pocket.
+
+He gripped the girl by the waist, inserted the key and flung open the
+door. She struggled to escape, but the hand that held the key also held
+the revolver, and never once did it point anywhere but at Cherry Bim's
+anatomy.
+
+"Help!" cried the girl. "This man is Serganoff, the Chief of Police at
+Petrograd----"
+
+There was a crash, and the sound of hurrying footsteps. A voice from the
+outer hall screamed, "The police!"
+
+At that moment Serganoff dragged the girl through the doorway and
+slammed it behind him. They were in a small cellar, almost entirely
+filled with barrels, with only a narrow alley-way left to reach a
+farther door. He dragged her through this apartment, up a short flight
+of stairs. They were on the level of the restaurant, and the girl could
+hear the clatter of plates as he pushed her up another stairway and into
+a room. By its furniture she guessed it was a private dining-room. The
+blinds were drawn and she had no means of knowing whether the apartment
+overlooked the front or the back of the premises.
+
+He stopped long enough to lock the door and then he turned to her,
+slipping off his mask.
+
+"I thought you would recognize me," he said coolly.
+
+"What does this outrage mean?" asked the girl with heaving bosom. "You
+shall pay for this, colonel."
+
+"There will be a lot of payment to be made before this matter is
+through," he said calmly. "Calm yourself, Irene. I have saved you from a
+great disgrace. Are you aware that, at the moment I brought you from
+that room, the English police were raiding it?"
+
+"I should not have been in the room but for you," she said, "my
+father----"
+
+"It is about your father I want to speak," he said. "Irene, I am the
+sole heir to your father's estate. Beyond the property which is settled
+on you, you have nothing. My affection for you is known and approved at
+Court."
+
+"Your affection!" she laughed bitterly. "I'd as soon have the affection
+of a wolf!"
+
+"You could not have a more complete wolf than I," he said meaningly. "Do
+you know what has happened to-night? An anarchist club in London has
+been raided, and the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav has been found in the
+company of men whose object is to destroy the monarchy."
+
+She realized with a sickening sense of disaster all that it meant. She
+knew as well as he in what bad odour her father stood at Court, and
+guessed the steps which would be taken if this matter became public.
+
+"I was brought here by a trick," she said steadily. "A letter came to
+me, as I thought, from Israel Kensky----"
+
+"It was from me," he interrupted.
+
+"And you planned the raid, of course?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"I planned the raid in the most promising circumstances," he said. "The
+gentleman who offered to be your good knight is a well-known New York
+gun-man. He is wanted by the police, who probably have him in their
+custody at this moment. He was brought here to-night, and an offer was
+made to him, an offer of a large sum of money, on condition that he
+would destroy the Czar."
+
+She gasped.
+
+"You see, my little Irene, that when this gun-man's evidence is taken in
+court, matters will look very bad for the Yaroslav family."
+
+"What do you propose?" she asked.
+
+"There are two alternatives," he said. "The first is that I should
+arrest you and hand you over to the police. The second is that you
+should undertake most solemnly to marry me, in which case I will take
+you away from here."
+
+She was silent.
+
+"Is there a third possibility?" she asked, and he shook his head.
+
+"My dear," he said familiarly as he flicked a speck of dust from his
+sleeve. "I think you will take the easier way. None of these scum will
+betray you, thinking that you are one of themselves--as I happen to
+know, some of the best families in Russia are associated with plotters
+of this type. As for the American, who might be inclined to talk, in a
+few weeks he will be on his way to New York to serve a life sentence. I
+have been looking up his record, and particularly drew the attention of
+the English police to the fact that he would be here to-night."
+
+Cherry Bim, creeping up the stairs in his stockinged feet--he had
+marked and shot the fuse-box to pieces before the police came in, and
+had burst his way through the door in the wall--heard the sound of
+voices in the little room and stopped to listen. It was not a thick
+door, and he could hear Serganoff's voice very clearly. He stooped down
+to the key-hole. Serganoff had not taken the key out, and it was an
+old-fashioned key, the end of which projected an eighth of an inch on
+the other side of the door. Cherry Bim felt in his pocket and produced a
+pair of peculiarly shaped nippers, and gripped the end of the key,
+turning it gently. Then he slipped his handy gun from his pocket and
+waited.
+
+"Now, Irene," said Serganoff's voice. "You must decide. In a few minutes
+the police will be up here, for they are instructed to make a complete
+search of the house. I can either explain that you are here to witness
+the raid, or that I have followed you up and arrested you. Which is it
+to be?"
+
+Still she did not answer. Serganoff had laid his revolver on the table
+and this she was manoeuvring to reach. He divined her intention before
+she sprang forward, and, gripping her by the waist, threw her back.
+
+"That will be more useful to me than to you," he said.
+
+"Sure thing it will!" said a voice behind him.
+
+He turned as swift as a cat and fired. The horrified girl heard only one
+shot, so quickly did one report follow another. She saw Cherry Bim raise
+his hand and wipe the blood from his cheek, saw the splinter of wood
+where the bullet had struck behind him; then Serganoff groaned and
+sprawled forward over the table. She dared not look at him, but followed
+Bim's beckoning finger.
+
+"Down the stairs and out of that door, miss," he said, "or the bulls
+will have you."
+
+She did not ask him who the "bulls" were; she could guess. She flew down
+the stairs, with trembling hands unfastened the lock and stepped into
+the street. It was empty, save for two men, and one of these came
+forward to meet her with outstretched hands.
+
+"Thank God you're safe!" he said. "You weren't there, were you?"
+
+Malcolm Hay was incoherent. The detective who was with him could but
+smile a little, for the girl had come out of the door which, according
+to his instructions, led only to the private dining-room.
+
+"Take me away," she whispered.
+
+He put his arm about her trembling figure, and led her along the street.
+All the time he was in terror lest the police should call her back, and
+desire him to identify her; but nothing happened and they gained
+Shaftesbury Avenue and a blessed taxicab.
+
+"To Israel Kensky," she said. "I can't go home like this."
+
+He stretched out of the window and gave fresh instructions.
+
+"I am greatly obliged to you, Mr. Hay," she faltered and then covered
+her face with her hands. "Oh, it was dreadful, dreadful!"
+
+"What happened?" he asked.
+
+She shook her head. Then suddenly:
+
+"No, no, I must go home. Will you tell the cabman? There is a chance
+that I may get into my suite without Boolba seeing. Will you go on to
+Israel Kensky after you have left me, and tell him what has happened?"
+
+He nodded, and again gave the change of instructions.
+
+They reached the hotel at a period when most of the guests were either
+lingering over their dinner or had gone to the theatre.
+
+"I hate leaving you like this," he said; "how do I know that you will
+get in without detection?"
+
+She smiled in spite of her distress.
+
+"You're an inventor, aren't you, Mr. Hay?" she laughed. "But I am afraid
+even you could not invent a story which would convince my father if he
+knew I had been to that horrible place." Presently she said: "My room
+overlooks the street. If I get in without detection I will come to the
+window and wave a handkerchief."
+
+He waited in a fit of apprehension, until presently he saw a light leap
+up to three windows, and her figure appeared. There was a flutter of a
+white handkerchief, and the blinds were drawn. Malcolm Hay drove to
+Maida Vale, feeling that the age of romance was not wholly dead.
+
+To his surprise Kensky had had the news before he reached there.
+
+"Is she safe? Is she safe?" asked the old man tremulously. "Now, thank
+Jehovah for his manifold blessings and mercies! I feared something was
+wrong. Her Highness wrote to me this afternoon, and I did not get the
+letter," said Israel. "They waylaid the messenger, and wrote and told
+her to go to the Silver Lion--the devils!"
+
+His hand was shaking as he took up the poker to stir the fire.
+
+"He, at any rate, will trouble none of us again," he said with malignant
+satisfaction.
+
+"He? Who?"
+
+"Serganoff," said the old man. "He was dead when the police found him!"
+
+"And the American?" asked Hay.
+
+"Only Russians were arrested," said Israel Kensky. "I do not think I
+shall see him again."
+
+In this he was wrong, though six years were to pass before they met: the
+mystic, Israel Kensky, Cherry Bim the modern knight-errant, and Malcolm
+Hay.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+KENSKY OF KIEFF
+
+
+Malcolm Hay drew rein half a verst from the Church of St. Andrea. Though
+his shaggy little horse showed no signs of distress, Malcolm kicked his
+feet free from the stirrups and descended, for his journey had been a
+long one, the day was poisonously hot and the steppe across which he had
+ridden, for all its golden beauty, its wealth of blue cornflour and
+yellow genista, had been wearisome. Overhead the sky was an unbroken
+bowl of blue and at its zenith rode a brazen merciless sun.
+
+He took a leather cigar-case from his pocket, extracted a long black
+cheroot and lit it; then, leaving his horse to its own devices, he
+mounted the bank by the side of the road, from whence he could look
+across the valley of the Dneiper. That majestic river lay beneath him
+and to the right.
+
+Before him, at the foot of the long, steep and winding road, lay the
+quarter which is called Podol.
+
+For the rest his horizon was filled with a jumble of buildings,
+magnificent or squalid; the half-revealed roofs on the wooded slopes of
+the four hills, and the ragged fringe of belfry and glittering cupola
+which made up the picture of Kieff.
+
+The month was June and the year of grace 1914, and Malcolm Hay, chief
+engineer of the Ukraine-American Oil Corporation, had no other thought
+in his mind, as he looked upon the undoubted beauty of Kieff, than that
+it would be a very pleasant place to leave. He climbed the broken stone
+wall and stood, his hands thrust deeply into his breeches pockets,
+watching the scene. It was one of those innumerable holy days which the
+Russian peasant celebrated with such zest. Rather it was the second of
+three consecutive feast days and, as Malcolm knew, there was small
+chance of any work being done on the field until his labourers had taken
+their fill of holiness, and had slept off the colossal drunk which
+inevitably followed this pious exercise.
+
+A young peasant, wearing a sheepskin coat despite the stifling heat of
+the day, walked quickly up the hill leading a laden donkey. The man
+stopped when he was abreast of Malcolm, took a cigarette from the inside
+of his coat and lit it.
+
+"God save you, _dudushka_," he said cheerfully.
+
+Malcolm was so used to being addressed as "little grandfather," and
+that for all his obvious youth, that he saw nothing funny in the
+address.
+
+"God save you, my little man," he replied.
+
+The new-comer was a broad-faced, pleasant-looking fellow with a ready
+grin, and black eyebrows that met above his nose. Malcolm Hay knew the
+type, but to-day being for idleness, he did not dread the man's
+loquacity as he would had it been a working day.
+
+"My name is Gleb," introduced the man: "I come from the village of
+Potchkoi where my father has seven cows and a bull."
+
+"God give him prosperity and many calves," said Malcolm mechanically.
+
+"Tell me, _gospodar_, do you ride into our holy city to-day?"
+
+"Surely," said Malcolm.
+
+"Then you will do well to avoid the Street of Black Mud," said Gleb.
+
+Malcolm waited.
+
+"I speak wisely because of my name," said the man with calm assurance;
+"possibly your excellence has wondered why I should bear the same name
+as the great saint who lies yonder," he pointed to one of the towering
+belfries shimmering with gold that rose above the shoulder of a distant
+hill. "I am Gleb, the son of Gleb, and it is said that we go back a
+thousand years to the Holy Ones. Also, it was prophesied by a wise
+woman," said the peasant, puffing out a cloud of smoke and crossing
+himself at the same time, "that I should go the way of holiness and that
+after my death my body should be incorruptible."
+
+"All this is very interesting, little brother," said Malcolm with a
+smile, "but first you must tell me why I should not go into the Street
+of Black Mud."
+
+The man laughed softly.
+
+"Because of Israel Kensky," he said significantly.
+
+You could not live within a hundred miles of Kieff and not know of
+Israel Kensky. Malcolm realized with a start that he had not met the old
+man since he left him in London.
+
+"In what way has Israel Kensky offended?" asked Malcolm, understanding
+the menace in the man's tone.
+
+Gleb, squatting in the dust, brushed his sheepskin delicately with the
+tips of his fingers.
+
+"Little father," he said, "all men know Israel Kensky is a Jew and that
+he practises secret devil-rites, using the blood of Christian children.
+This is the way of Jews, as your lordship knows. Also he was seen on the
+plains to shoot pigeons, which is a terrible offence, for to shoot a
+pigeon is to kill the Holy Ghost."
+
+Malcolm knew that the greater offence had not yet been stated and
+waited.
+
+"To-day I think they will kill him if the Grand Duke does not send his
+soldiers to hold the people in check--or the Grand Duchess, his lovely
+daughter who has spoken for him before, does not speak again."
+
+"But why should they kill Kensky?" asked Malcolm.
+
+It was not the first time that Israel Kensky had been the subject of
+hostile demonstrations. The young engineer had heard these stories of
+horrible rites practised at the expense of Christian children, and had
+heard them so often that he was hardened to the repetition.
+
+The grin had left the man's face and there was a fanatical light in the
+solemn eyes when he replied:
+
+"_Gospodar_, it is known that this man has a book which is called 'The
+Book of All-Power!'"
+
+Malcolm nodded.
+
+"So the foolish say," he said.
+
+"It has been seen," said the other; "his own daughter, Sophia Kensky,
+who has been baptised in the faith of Our Blessed Lord, has told the
+Archbishop of this book. She, herself, has seen it."
+
+"But why should you kill a man because he has a book?" demanded Malcolm,
+knowing well what the answer would be.
+
+"Why should we kill him! A thousand reasons, _gospodar_," cried the man
+passionately; "he who has this book understands the black magic of
+Kensky and the Jews! By the mysteries in this book he is able to torment
+his enemies and bring sorrow to the Christians who oppose him. Did not
+the man Ivan Nickolovitch throw a stone at him, and did not Ivan drop
+dead the next day on his way to mass, aye and turn black before they
+carried him to the hospital? And did not Mishka Yakov, who spat at him,
+suffer almost immediately from a great swelling of the throat so that
+she is not able to speak or swallow to this very day without pain?"
+
+Malcolm jumped down from the wall and laughed, and it was a helpless
+little laugh, the laugh of one who, for four long years, had fought
+against the superstitions of the Russian peasantry. He had seen the work
+of his hands brought to naught, and a boring abandoned just short of the
+oil because a cross-eyed man, attracted by curiosity, had come and
+looked at the work. He had seen his wells go up in smoke for some
+imaginary act of witchcraft on the part of his foreman, and, though he
+laughed, he was in no sense amused.
+
+"Go with God, little brother," he said; "some day you will have more
+sense and know that men do not practise witchcraft."
+
+"Perhaps I am wiser than you," said Gleb, getting up and whistling for
+his donkey, who had strayed up the side lane.
+
+Before Malcolm could reply there was a clatter of hoofs and two riders
+came galloping round the bend of the road making for the town. The first
+of these was a girl, and the man who followed behind was evidently the
+servant of an exalted house, for he wore a livery of green and gold.
+
+Gleb's ass had come cantering down at his master's whistle and now stood
+broadside-on in the middle of the road, blocking the way. The girl
+pulled up her horse with a jerk and, half-turning her head to her
+attendant, she called. The man rode forward.
+
+"Get your donkey out of the way, fool," he boomed in a deep-chested
+roar.
+
+He was a big man, broad-shouldered and stout. Like most Russian domestic
+servants, his face was clean-shaven, but Malcolm, watching the scene
+idly, observed only this about him--that he had a crooked nose and that
+his hair was a fiery red.
+
+"Gently, gently." It was the girl who spoke and she addressed her
+restive horse in English.
+
+As for Gleb, the peasant, he stood, his hands clasped before him, his
+head humbly hung, incapable of movement, and with a laugh Malcolm jumped
+down from the bank, seized the donkey by his bridle and drew him
+somewhat reluctantly to the side of the road. The girl's horse had been
+curveting and prancing nervously, so that it brought her to within a
+few paces of Malcolm, and he looked up, wondering what rich man's
+daughter was this who spoke in English to her horse ... only once before
+had he seen her in the light of day.
+
+The face was not pale, yet the colour that was in her cheeks so
+delicately toned with the ivory-white of forehead and neck that she
+looked pale. The eyes, set wide apart, were so deep a grey that in
+contrast with the creamy pallor of brow they appeared black.
+
+A firm, red mouth he noticed; thin pencilling of eyebrows, a tangle of
+dark brown hair; but neither sight of her nor sound of her tired
+drawling voice, gave her such permanence in his mind as the indefinite
+sense of womanliness that clothed her like an aurora.
+
+He responded wonderfully to some mysterious call she made upon the man
+in him. He felt that his senses played no part in shaping his view. If
+he had met her in the dark, and had neither seen nor heard; if she had
+been a bare-legged peasant girl on her way to the fields; if he had met
+her anywhere, anyhow--she would have been divine.
+
+She, for her part, saw a tall young man, mahogany faced, leanly made, in
+old shooting-jacket and battered Stetson hat. She saw a good forehead
+and an unruly mop of hair, and beneath two eyes, now awe-stricken by
+her femininity (this she might have guessed) rather than by her exalted
+rank. They were eyes with a capacity for much laughter, she thought, and
+wished Russian men had eyes like those.
+
+"My horse is afraid of your donkey, I think," she smiled.
+
+"It isn't my donkey," he stammered, and she laughed again frankly at his
+embarrassment.
+
+And then the unexpected happened. With a frightened neigh her horse
+leapt sideways toward him. He sprang back to avoid the horse's hoofs and
+heard her little exclamation of dismay. In the fraction of a second he
+realized she was falling and held out his arms to catch her. For a
+moment she lay on his breast, her soft cheek against his, the
+overpowering fragrance of her presence taking his breath away. Then she
+gently disengaged herself and stepped back. There was colour in her face
+now and something which might have been mischief, or annoyance, or sheer
+amusement, in her eyes.
+
+"Thank you," she said.
+
+Her tone was even and did not encourage further advances on his part.
+
+"I lost my balance. Will you hold my horse's head?"
+
+She was back in the saddle and turning, with a proud little inclination
+of her head, was picking a way down the steep hill before he realized
+what had happened. He gazed after her, hoping at least that feminine
+curiosity would induce her to turn and look back, but in this he was
+disappointed.
+
+The peasant, Gleb, still stood by the side of the road, his hands
+clasped, his head bent as though in a trance.
+
+"Wake up, little monkey," said Malcolm testily. "Why did you not hold
+the horse for the lady whilst I helped her to mount?"
+
+"_Dudushka_, it is forbidden, _Zaprestcheno_," said the man huskily.
+"She is _Kaziomne_! The property of the Czar!"
+
+"The Czar!" gasped Malcolm.
+
+He had lived long enough in Russia to have imbibed some of the awe and
+reverence for that personage.
+
+"Little master," said the man, "it was her Magnificence, the Grand
+Duchess Irene Yaroslav."
+
+"The Grand----!" Malcolm gasped. The reality of his dreams and he had
+not recognized her!
+
+Long after the peasant had departed he stood on the spot where he had
+held her, like a man in a trance, and he was very thoughtful when he
+picked up the reins of his horse and swung himself into the saddle.
+
+Kieff is built upon many hills and it has the beauty and distinction of
+possessing steeper roads than any other city in Europe. He was on his
+way to the Grand Hotel, and this necessitated his passing through Podol,
+crossing the Hill of the Cliff, and descending into the valley beyond.
+
+Considering it was a feast day the streets were strangely deserted. He
+met a few old men and women in festal garb and supposed that the
+majority of the people were at the shrines in which Kieff abounds. He
+passed through the poorer Jewish quarter, and did not remember the
+peasant's warning not to go into the Street of Black Mud until he had
+turned into that thoroughfare.
+
+Long before he had reached the street he heard the roar of the crowd,
+and knew that some kind of trouble was brewing. The street was filled
+with knots of men and women, and their faces by common attraction, were
+turned in one direction. The focal point was a densely packed crowd
+which swayed toward the gateway of a tall, grim-looking house, which he
+recognized as the home of the millionaire, Kensky.
+
+The roar intensified to a continuous shriek of malignant hate. He saw
+sticks and fists brandished and heard above the scream of frenzied women
+the deep-throated "Kill! Death to the Jew!" which was not unfamiliar to
+one who knew Kieff in moments of religious excitement. It was no
+business of his, and he drew his horse to the side of the street and
+watched, wondering what part the black-bearded Russian priests, who were
+in force and who seemed to form the centre of each knot of idlers, were
+playing in this act of persecution.
+
+On the outskirts of the crowd he observed a green and gold coat, and,
+its wearer turning his head, he recognized him as the swarthy menial who
+had ridden behind the Grand Duchess. He was as violent and as energetic
+as the most lawless, and seemed engaged in pushing men into the crowd
+and dragging forward hesitant bystanders to swell the throng which was
+pressing about the iron gates of the building.
+
+And then Malcolm saw something which brought his heart to his mouth, a
+white hand raised from above the bobbing black heads, a hand raised in
+appeal or command. Instinctively he knew its owner and spurred his horse
+into the throng, sending the people flying in all directions. There was
+a small clear space immediately before the door which enabled him to see
+the two chief actors in the drama long before he was within hailing
+distance.
+
+The space was caused by a dead horse, as he afterwards discovered, but,
+for the moment, his eyes were fixed on the girl who stood with her back
+to the grille, shielding with her frail body a little old man,
+white-bearded and bent, who crouched behind her outstretched arms, his
+pale face streaming with blood. A broken key in the grille told the
+story of his foiled attempt to escape. Grimy hands clutched at Malcolm's
+knees as he drove through the press, a stone whistled past his ear and
+shrill voices uttered imprecations at the daring foreigner, but he
+swerved to left and right and made a way until the sight of the dead
+horse brought his frightened mount to a quivering standstill.
+
+He leapt from the saddle and sprang to the girl's side, and to his
+amazement his appearance seemed to strike consternation into her heart.
+
+"Why did you come? Get away as quickly as you can," she breathed. "Oh,
+you were mad to come here!"
+
+"But--but you?" he said.
+
+"They will not hurt me," she said rapidly. "It is the old man they want.
+Can you smash the lock and get him inside?"
+
+"Give us the book, Jew," yelled a deep voice above the babel of sound.
+"Give us the book and you shall live! Lady! Magnificence! Make the old
+man give us the book!"
+
+Malcolm took a flying kick at the gate and the lock yielded. He half
+lifted, half carried the old man and pushed inside, where another locked
+door confronted them.
+
+"Have you a key?" demanded Malcolm hurriedly. "Quick!"
+
+The old man felt in his pocket with trembling fingers and in doing so he
+crept behind his guardian. Malcolm now turned and faced the crowd.
+
+"Come in, for God's sake," he called to the girl, but she shook her
+head.
+
+"They will not hurt me," she said over her shoulder; "it is you!"
+
+At that moment Malcolm felt something heavy slipped into the loose
+pocket of his jacket and a quivering voice, harsh with fear, whispered
+in his ear:
+
+"Keep it, _gospodar_. To-morrow I will come for it at the Grand Hotel at
+the middle hour!"
+
+The crowd was now surging forward and the girl was being pressed back
+into the little lobby by their weight. Suddenly the door opened with a
+crack and the old man slipped through.
+
+"Come, come," he cried.
+
+Malcolm leapt forward, clasped the girl about the waist and swung her
+behind him.
+
+The shrieks of the crowd broke and a new note crept into the pandemonium
+of sound, a note of fear. From outside came a clatter of hoofs on the
+cobbled roadway. There was a flash of red and white pennons, the glitter
+of steel lances and a glimpse of bottle-green coats as half a sotnia of
+Cossacks swept the street clear.
+
+They looked at one another, the girl and the man, oblivious to the
+appeal of hand and voice which the old man in the doorway was offering.
+
+"I think you are very brave," said the girl, "or else very foolish. You
+do not know our Kieff people."
+
+"I know them very well," he said grimly.
+
+"It was equally foolish of me to interfere," she said quickly, "and I
+ought not to blame you. They killed my horse."
+
+She pointed to the dead horse lying before the doorway.
+
+"Where was your servant?" he asked, but she made no reply. He repeated
+the question, thinking she had not heard and being at some loss for any
+other topic of conversation.
+
+"Let us go out," she said, ignoring the query, "we are safe now."
+
+He was following her when he remembered the packet in his pocket and
+turned to the old man.
+
+"Here is your----"
+
+"No, no, no, keep it," whispered Israel Kensky. "They may come again
+to-night! My daughter told them that I was carrying it. May she roast!"
+
+"What is it?" asked Malcolm curiously.
+
+The old man's lips parted in a toothless smile.
+
+"It is the 'Book of All-Power!'"
+
+He blinked up at Malcolm, peering into his face expectantly. "They all
+desire it, _gospodar_, from the Grand Duke in his beautiful palace to
+the _moujik_ in his cellar--they all desire my lovely book! I trust you
+with it for one night, _gospodar_, because you are English. Ah, well,
+you are not Russian. Guard it closely, for it holds the secret of tears
+and of happiness. You shall learn how to make men and women your slaves
+and how to turn people into Jews, and how to make men and women adore
+you, ai, ai! There are recipes for beauty in my book which make plain
+women lovely and old men young!"
+
+Malcolm could only stare.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE GRAND DUKE IS AFFABLE
+
+
+The girl's voice called, and Malcolm left old Kensky without a word and
+went to her side. "Will you walk with me to my father's palace?" she
+said. "I do not think it is safe for you to be alone."
+
+A semi-circle of mounted Cossacks surrounded them now, and the
+unfaithful Boolba (such was the servant's name, he learnt) was standing
+with an impassive face holding his horse's head.
+
+"One of the soldiers will take your horse," she said. "Boolba, you will
+follow us."
+
+Her voice was stern and she looked the man straight in the eyes, but he
+did not flinch.
+
+"_Prikazeno_, Highness, it is ordered," he said simply.
+
+She turned and walked the way she had come, turning into the big square
+followed by a small escort of Cossacks.
+
+They walked in silence for some time, and it was the girl who first
+spoke.
+
+"What do you think of Russia, Mr. Hay?" she asked.
+
+He jerked his head round at her in surprise.
+
+"You didn't know me on the hill," she laughed, "but I knew you! And
+there are not so many foreigners in the Kieff region that you should be
+unknown to the Grand Duke," she said, "and besides, you were at the
+reception which my father gave a year ago."
+
+"I did not see your Highness there," said Malcolm. "I came
+especially----" he stopped short in confusion.
+
+"That was probably because I was not visible," she replied dryly. "I
+have been to Cambridge for a year to finish my education."
+
+"That is why your English is so good," he smiled.
+
+"It's much better than your Russian," she said calmly. "You ought not to
+have said '_ukhoditzay_' to people--you only say that to beggars, and I
+think they were rather annoyed with you."
+
+"I should imagine they were," he laughed; "but won't you tell me what
+happened to your servant? I thought I saw him on the outskirts of the
+crowd and the impression I formed was----" he hesitated.
+
+"I shouldn't form impressions if I were you," she said hurriedly. "Here
+in Russia one ought not to puzzle one's head over such things. When you
+meet the inexplicable, accept it as such and inquire no further."
+
+She was silent again, and when she spoke she was more serious.
+
+"The Russian people always impress me as a great sea of lava, boiling
+and spluttering and rolling slowly between frail banks which we have
+built for them," said the girl.
+
+"I often wonder whether those banks will ever break," said Malcolm
+quietly; "if they do----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"They will burn up Russia," said Malcolm.
+
+"So I think," said the girl. "Father believes that the war----" she
+stopped short.
+
+"The war?"
+
+Malcolm had heard rumours so often of the inevitable war which would be
+fought to establish the hegemony of the Slav over Eastern Europe that
+the scepticism in his tone was pardonable. She looked at him sharply.
+
+"You do not think there will be war?"
+
+"One has heard so often," he began.
+
+"I know, I know," she said, a little impatiently, and changed the
+subject.
+
+They talked about the people, the lovable character of the peasants, the
+extraordinary depth of their religious faiths, their amazing
+superstitions, and suddenly Malcolm remembered the book in his pocket,
+and was about to speak of it, but stopped himself, feeling that, by so
+speaking, he was betraying the confidence of the old man who had
+entrusted his treasure to a stranger's care.
+
+"What is this story of the book of Kensky?"
+
+"'The Book of All-Power'?"
+
+She did not smile as he had expected her to.
+
+"Old Israel Kensky is a curious man," she said guardedly. "The people
+credit him with all sorts of powers which of course he does not possess.
+They believe he is a wizard, that he can bend people to his will. They
+say the most terrible things about the religious ceremonies over which
+he presides."
+
+They were mounting the hill behind which lay the fashionable quarter of
+Kieff with its great stone palaces, its wonderful cherry gardens and
+broad avenues.
+
+"I like old Kensky," she went on; "he sometimes comes to the palace to
+bring new silks--he is the greatest merchant in Little Russia. He even
+tells me his troubles--he has a terrible daughter: you have heard about
+her?"
+
+"I thought she was rather good," said Malcolm humorously. "Isn't she a
+Christian?"
+
+The girl shrugged her shoulders. Evidently her Grand Ducal Highness had
+no great opinion of Sophia Kensky's conversion.
+
+The Grand Ducal palace was built in the Byzantine style and presented,
+from the broad carriage drive that led from the road, a confusion of
+roofs, windows and bastions, as though the designer had left the working
+out of his plan to fifty different architects, and each architect had
+interpreted the scheme of construction in his own way.
+
+The Grand Duke was standing in the portico as they went through the
+gate, and came down the steps to meet them. He was a mild-looking man of
+medium height and wore pince-nez. Malcolm remembered that on the one
+occasion he had met his Highness he had been disappointed in his lack of
+personal grandeur.
+
+"My child, my child!" said the Duke, coming to the girl with
+outstretched arms. "What a terrible misfortune! How came you to be mixed
+up in this matter? The commandant has just telephoned to me. I have
+called for his resignation. By St. Inokeste, I will not have the rabble
+breathing upon you! And this is the good gentleman who came to your
+rescue?"
+
+He surveyed Malcolm with his cold blue eyes, but both glance and
+intonation lacked the cordiality which his words implied.
+
+"I thank you. I am indeed grateful to you. You understand they would not
+have harmed the Grand Duchess, but this you could not know. As for the
+Jew----"
+
+He became suddenly thoughtful. He had the air of a man wholly
+preoccupied in his secret thoughts and who now emerged from his shell
+under the greatest protest. To Malcolm it seemed that he resented even
+the necessity for communicating his thoughts to his own daughter.
+
+"I am happy to have been of service to your Grand Ducal Highness," said
+Malcolm correctly.
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," interrupted the Grand Duke nervously, "but you will
+stay and breakfast with me? Come, I insist, Mr.--er--er----"
+
+"Mr. Hay, father," said the girl.
+
+The conversation throughout was carried on in English, which was not
+remarkable, remembering that that was the family language of the Court.
+
+"Yes, yes, yes, Mr. Hay, you must stay to breakfast. You have been very
+good, very noble, I am sure. Irene, you must persuade this gentleman."
+He held out his hand jerkily and Malcolm took it with a bow.
+
+Then without another word or even so much as a glance at his daughter,
+the Grand Duke turned and hurried back into the palace, leaving Malcolm
+very astonished and a little uncomfortable.
+
+The girl saw his embarrassment.
+
+"My father does not seem to be very hospitable," she smiled, and once
+more he saw that little gleam of mischief in her eyes, "but I will give
+you a warmer invitation."
+
+He spread out his hands in mock dismay and looked down at his untidy
+clothes.
+
+"Your Highness is very generous," he said, "but how can I come to the
+Grand Duke's table like this?"
+
+"You will not see the Grand Duke," she laughed; "father gives these
+invitations but never accepts them himself! He breakfasts in his own
+room, so if you can endure me alone----" she challenged.
+
+He said nothing but looked much, and her eyes fell before his. All the
+time he was conscious that red-haired Boolba stood stiffly behind him, a
+spectator, yet, as Malcolm felt, a participant in this small affair of
+the breakfast invitation. She followed Malcolm's look and beckoned the
+man forward. He had already surrendered the horses to an orderly.
+
+"Take the lord to a guest-room," she said in Russian, "and send a valet
+to attend to him."
+
+"It is ordered," said the man, and with a nod, the girl turned and
+walked into the house, followed at a more leisurely pace by Malcolm and
+the man with the crooked nose.
+
+Boolba led the way up a broad flight of stairs, carpeted with thick red
+pile, along a corridor pierced at intervals with great windows, to
+another corridor leading off and through a door which, from its
+dimensions, suggested the entrance to a throne-room, into a suite
+gorgeously furnished and resplendent with silver electroliers. It
+consisted of a saloon leading into a bedroom, which was furnished in the
+same exquisite taste. A further door led to a marble-tiled bathroom.
+
+"Such luxury!" murmured Malcolm.
+
+"Has the _gospodar_ any orders?"
+
+It was the solemn Boolba who spoke. Malcolm looked at him.
+
+"Tell me this, Boolba," he said, falling into the familiar style of
+address which experience had taught him was the correct line to follow
+when dealing with Russian servants, "how came it that your mistress was
+alone before the house of Israel Kensky, the Jew, and you were on the
+outskirts of the crowd urging them on?"
+
+If the man felt any perturbation at the bluntness of the question he did
+not show it.
+
+"Kensky is a Jew," he said coolly; "on the night of the Pentecost he
+takes the blood of new-born Christian babies and sprinkles his money so
+that it may be increased in the coming year. This Sophia Kensky, his own
+daughter, has told me."
+
+Malcolm shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You are no ignorant _moujik_, Boolba," he said contemptuously, "you
+have travelled with his Highness all over the world." (This was a shot
+at a venture, but apparently was not without justification.) "How can
+you, an educated man of the people, believe such rubbish?"
+
+"He has a book, _gospodar_," said Boolba, "and we people who desire
+power would have that book, for it teaches men how they may command the
+souls of others, so that when they lift their little fingers, those who
+hate them best shall obey them."
+
+Malcolm looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"Do you believe this?"
+
+For the first time a smile crossed the face of the man with the crooked
+nose. It was not a pleasant smile to see, for there was cunning in it
+and a measureless capacity for cruelty.
+
+"Who knows all the miracles and wonders of the world?" he said. "My lord
+knows there is a devil, and has he not his angels on earth? It is best
+to be sure of these things, and we cannot be certain--until we have seen
+the book which the Jew gave to your lordship."
+
+He paused a little before uttering the last sentence which gave his
+assertion a special significance. Malcolm eyed him narrowly.
+
+"The Jew did not give me any book, Boolba," he said.
+
+"I thought your lordship----"
+
+"You thought wrongly," said Malcolm shortly.
+
+Boolba bowed and withdrew.
+
+The situation was not a particularly pleasant one. Malcolm had in his
+possession a book which men were willing to commit murder to obtain, and
+he was not at all anxious that his name should be associated with the
+practice of witchcraft.
+
+It was all ridiculous and absurd, of course, but then in Russia nothing
+was so absurd that it could be lightly dismissed from consideration. He
+walked to the door and turned the key, then took from his pocket the
+thing which Israel Kensky had slipped in. It was a thick, stoutly bound
+volume secured by two brass locks. The binding was of yellow calf, and
+it bore the following inscription in Russian stamped in gold lettering:
+
+
+                     "THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER."
+
+
+"Herein is the magic of power and the words and symbols which unlock the
+sealed hearts of men and turn their proud wills to water."
+
+On the bottom left-hand corner of the cover was an inscription in
+Hebrew, which Malcolm could not read, but which he guessed stood for the
+birth-name of Israel Kensky. He turned the book over in his hand, and,
+curiosity overcoming him, he tried to force his thumb-nail into the
+marbled edge of the leaves that he might secure a glimpse of its
+contents. But the book was too tightly bound, and after another careful
+examination, he pulled off his coat and started to make himself
+presentable for breakfast.
+
+The little meal was wholly delightful. Besides Malcolm and the girl
+there were present a faded Russian lady, whom he guessed was her
+official chaperon, and a sour-visaged Russian priest who ceremoniously
+blessed the food and was apparently the Grand Duke's household chaplain.
+He did not speak throughout the meal, and seemed to be in a condition of
+rapt contemplation.
+
+But for all Malcolm knew there might have been a hundred people
+present--he had eyes and ears only for the girl. She had changed to a
+dark blue costume beneath which was a plain white silk blouse cut deeply
+at the neck.
+
+He was struck by the fact that she wore no jewels, and he found himself
+rejoicing at the absence of rings in general and of one ring in
+particular.
+
+Of course, it was all lunacy, sheer clotted madness, as he told himself,
+but this was a day to riot in illusions, for undreamt-of things had
+happened, and who could swear that the days of fairies had passed? To
+meet a dream-Irene on his way to Kieff was unlikely, to rescue her from
+an infuriated mob (for though they insisted that she was in no danger
+he was no less insistent that he rescued her, since this illusion was
+the keystone to all others), to be sitting at lunch with such a vision
+of youthful loveliness--all these things were sufficiently outside the
+range of probabilities to encourage the development of his dream in a
+comfortable direction.
+
+"To-night," thought he, "I shall be eating a prosaic dinner at the Grand
+Hotel, and the Grand Duchess Irene Yaroslav will be a remote personage
+whom I shall only see in the picture papers, or possibly over the heads
+of a crowd on her way to the railway station."
+
+And so he was outrageously familiar. He ceased to "Highness" her,
+laughed at her jokes and in turn provoked her to merriment. The meal
+came to an end too soon for him, but not too soon for the nodding
+dowager nor the silent, contemplating priest, who had worn through his
+period of saintly abstraction and had grown most humanly impatient.
+
+The girl looked at her watch.
+
+"Good gracious," she said, "it is four o'clock and I have promised to go
+to tennis." (Malcolm loathed tennis from that hour.)
+
+He took his leave of her with a return to something of the old
+ceremonial.
+
+"Your Grand Ducal Highness has been most gracious," he said, but she
+arrested his eloquence with a little grimace.
+
+"Please, remember, Mr. Hay, that I shall be a Grand Ducal Highness for
+quite a long time, so do not spoil a very pleasant afternoon by being
+over-punctilious."
+
+He laughed.
+
+"Then I will call you----"
+
+He came to a dead end, and the moment was embarrassing for both, though
+why a Grand Ducal Highness should be embarrassed by a young engineer she
+alone might explain.
+
+Happily there arrived most unexpectedly the Grand Duke himself, and if
+his appearance was amazing, as it was to judge by the girl's face, his
+geniality was sensational.
+
+He crossed the hall and gripped the young man's hand.
+
+"You're not going, Mr. Hay?" he asked. "Come, come, I have been a very
+bad host, but I do not intend to let you go so soon! I have much that I
+want to talk to you about. You are the engineer in charge of the Ukraine
+Oil Field, is it not so? Excellent! Now, I have oil on my estate in the
+Urals but it has never been developed...."
+
+He took the young man by the arm and led him through the big doors to
+the garden, giving him no chance to complete or decently postpone his
+farewell to the girl, who watched with undisguised amazement this
+staggering affability on the part of her parent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE HAND AT THE WINDOW
+
+
+An hour later she came from tennis, to find her father obviously bored
+almost to the point of tears, yet making an heroic attempt to appear
+interested in Malcolm's enthusiastic dissertation of the future of the
+oil industry. The Grand Duke rose gladly on her appearance, and handed
+him over.
+
+"I have persuaded Mr. Hay to dine with us to-night, and I have sent to
+the hotel for his baggage. He is most entertaining, my little love, most
+entertaining. Persuade him to talk to you about--er--oil and things,"
+and he hurriedly withdrew.
+
+The girl sat down on the seat he had vacated.
+
+"You're a most amazing person, Mr. Hay," she smiled.
+
+"So I have been told," said Malcolm, as he filled a glass with tea from
+the samovar.
+
+"You have also a good opinion of yourself, it seems," she said calmly.
+
+"Why do you think I am amazing, anyway?" said he recklessly, returning
+to the relationships they had established at luncheon.
+
+"Because you have enchanted my father," she said.
+
+She was not smiling now, and a troubled little frown gathered on her
+brow.
+
+"Please tell me your magic."
+
+"Perhaps it is the book," he said jestingly.
+
+"The book!" she looked up sharply. "What book?"
+
+And then, as a light dawned on her, she rose to her feet.
+
+"You have--you have Israel Kensky's book?" she whispered in horror.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Here with you?"
+
+"Yes, here," he slapped his pocket.
+
+She sat down slowly and reached out her hand, and he thought it shook.
+
+"I do not know who was the madder--Israel Kensky to give it to you or
+you to take it," she said. "This is the only house in Kieff where your
+life is safe, and even here----" She stopped and shook her head. "Of
+course, you're safe here," she smiled, "but I wish the book were
+somewhere else."
+
+She made no further reference either to the amazing volume or to her
+father, and that night, when he came down to dinner, feeling more on
+level terms with royalty (though his dress-suit was four years old and
+his patent shoes, good enough for such mild society functions as came
+his way, looked horribly cracked and shabby), he dismissed the matter
+from his mind. The dinner party was a large one. There were two bishops,
+innumerable popes, several bejewelled women, an officer or two and the
+inevitable duenna. He was introduced to them all, but remembered only
+Colonel Malinkoff, a quiet man whom he was to meet again.
+
+To his amazement he found that he had been seated in the place of
+honour, to the right of the Grand Duke, but he derived very little
+satisfaction from that distinction, since the girl was at the other end
+of the table.
+
+She looked worried and her conversation, so far as he could hear,
+consisted of "yes" and "no" and conventional expressions of agreement
+with the views of her companions.
+
+But the duke was loquacious, and at an early stage of the dinner the
+conversation turned on the riot of the morning. There was nothing
+remarkable in the conversation till suddenly the Grand Duke, without
+preliminary, remarked in a matter-of-fact tone:
+
+"The danger is that Kensky may very well use his evil powers against the
+welfare of Holy Church."
+
+There was a murmur of agreement from the black-bearded popes, and
+Malcolm opened his eyes in astonishment.
+
+"But surely your Highness does not believe that this man has any
+supernatural gift."
+
+The Grand Duke stared at him through his glasses.
+
+"Of course," he said, "if there are miracles of the Church why should
+there not be performed miracles by the Powers of Darkness? Here in
+Kieff," he went on, "we have no reason to doubt that miracles are
+performed every day. Who doubts that worship at the shrine of St.
+Barbara in the Church of St. Michael of the Golden Head protects us
+against lightning?"
+
+"That is undoubtedly the fact, your Imperial Highness," said a stout
+pope, speaking with his mouth full. "I have seen houses with lightning
+conductors struck repeatedly, and I have never known any place to be
+touched by lightning if the master of the house was under the protection
+of St. Barbara."
+
+"And beneath the Church of Exaltation," the Grand Duke went on, "more
+miracles have been performed than elsewhere in the world."
+
+He peered round the table for contradiction.
+
+"It was here that the Two Brothers are buried and it was their prayer
+that they should sleep together in the same grave. One died before the
+other, and when the second had passed away and they carried his body to
+the tomb, did not the body of the first brother arise to make room? And
+is there not a column in the catacomb to which, if a madman is bound, he
+recovers his reason? And are there not skulls which exude wonderful oils
+which cure men of the most terrible diseases, even though they are on
+the point of death?"
+
+Malcolm drew a long breath. He could understand the superstitious
+reverence of the peasant for these relics and miracles, but these were
+educated men. One of them stood near to the throne and was versed in the
+intricacies of European diplomacy. These were no peasants steeped in
+ignorance, but intellectuals. He pinched himself to make sure that he
+was awake as the discussion grew and men swopped miracles in much the
+same spirit of emulation as store-loafers swop lies. But the
+conversation came back to him, led thereto by the Grand Duke, and once
+more it centred on that infernal book. The volume in question was not
+six inches from the Grand Duke, for Malcolm had stuffed it into his tail
+pocket before he came down to dinner, and this fact added a certain
+piquancy to the conversation.
+
+"I do not doubt, your Highness," said a stout bishop, who picked his
+teeth throughout the dinner, "that Kensky's book is identical with a
+certain volume on devil worship which the blessed Saint Basil publicly
+denounced and damned. It was a book especially inspired by Satan, and
+contained exact rules, whereby he who practised the magic could bind in
+earthly and immortal obedience the soul of anybody he chose, thus
+destroying in this life their chance of happiness and in the life to
+come their souls' salvation."
+
+All within reach of the bishop's voice crossed themselves three times.
+
+"It would have been well," mused the Grand Duke, "if the people had
+succeeded this morning."
+
+He shot a glance at Malcolm, a glance full of suspicious inquiry, but
+the young man showed no sign either of resentment or agreement. But he
+was glad when the dinner ended and the chance came to snatch a few words
+with the girl. The guests were departing early, and kummel and coffee
+was already being served on a large silver salver by the _buffetschek_,
+whom Malcolm recognized as the ubiquitous Boolba.
+
+"I shall not see you again," said the girl in a low voice. "I am going
+to my room. But I want you to promise me something, Mr. Hay."
+
+"The promise is made before you ask," said he.
+
+"I want you to leave as early as you possibly can to-morrow morning for
+your mine, and if I send you word I want you to leave Russia without
+delay."
+
+"But this is very astonishing."
+
+She faced him squarely, her hands behind her back.
+
+"Mr. Hay," she said, and her low voice was vibrant with feeling, "you
+have entangled yourself in an adventure which cannot possibly end well
+for you. Whatever happens, you cannot come out with credit and safety,
+and I would rather you came out with credit."
+
+"I don't understand you," he said.
+
+"I will make it plainer," said she. "Unless something happens in the
+next month or two which will point the minds of the people to other
+directions, you will be suspect. The fact that you have the book is
+known."
+
+"I know," he said.
+
+"By whom?" she asked quickly.
+
+"By Boolba, your servant."
+
+She raised her hand to her lips, as if to suppress a cry. It was an odd
+little trick of hers which he had noticed before.
+
+"Boolba," she repeated. "Of course! That explains!"
+
+At that moment the Grand Duke called him. The guests had dwindled away
+to half a dozen.
+
+"Your coffee, Mr. Hay, and some of our wonderful Russian kummel. You
+will not find its like in any other part of the world."
+
+Malcolm drank the coffee, gulped down the fiery liqueur, and replaced
+the glass on the tray. He did not see the girl again, and half an hour
+later he went up to his room, locked the door and undressed himself
+slowly, declining the assistance which had been offered to him by the
+trained valet.
+
+From the open window came the heavy perfume of heliotrope, but it was
+neither the garden scent nor the moderate quantity of wine he had taken,
+nor the languid beauty of the night, which produced this delicious
+sensation of weariness. He undressed and got into his pyjamas, then sat
+at the end of his bed, his head between his hands.
+
+He had sat for a long time like this, before he realized the strangeness
+of his attitude and getting on to his feet, found himself swaying.
+
+"Doped," he said, and sat down again.
+
+There was little of his brain that was awake, but that little he worked
+hard. He had been drugged. It was either in the kummel or in the coffee.
+Nothing but dope would make him feel as he was feeling now. He fell into
+bed and pulled the clothes about him. He wanted to keep awake to fight
+off the effects of the stuff and, by an absurd perversion of reasoning,
+he argued that he was in a more favourable position to carry out his
+plan if he made himself comfortable in bed, than if he followed any
+other course.
+
+The drug worked slowly and erratically. He had moments of complete
+unconsciousness with intervals which, if they were not free from the
+effect of the agent, were at least lucid. One such interval must have
+come after he had been in bed for about an hour, for he found himself
+wide awake and lay listening to the thumping of his heart, which seemed
+to shake the bed.
+
+The room was bathed in a soft green light, for it was a night of full
+moon. He could see dimly the furniture and the subdued gleam of silver
+wall-sconce, that caught the ghostly light and gave it a more mysterious
+value. He tried to rise but could not. To roll his head from side to
+side seemed the limitation of conscious effort.
+
+And whilst he looked, the door opened noiselessly and closed again.
+Somebody had come into the room, and that somebody passed softly across
+the foot of the bed, and stood revealed against the window. Had he been
+capable of speech he would have cried out.
+
+It was the girl!
+
+He saw her plainly in a moment. She wore a wrapper over her nightdress,
+and carried a small electric lamp in her hand. She went to the chair
+where he had thrown his clothes and made a search. He saw her take
+something out and put it under her wrap, then she went back the way she
+came, pausing for the space of a second at the foot of his bed.
+
+She stood there undecidedly, and presently she came up to the side of
+the bed and bent down over him. His eyes were half closed; he had
+neither the power of opening or shutting them, but he could see clearly
+the white hand that rested on the bed and the book that it held, and the
+polished table by the bedside reflecting the moonlight back to her face
+so that she seemed something as intangible and as shadowy as the night
+itself.
+
+A little smile played upon her pale face, and every whispered word she
+uttered was clear and distinct.
+
+"Good-bye, poor Mr. Hay," she said softly.
+
+She shook her head as though in pity; then, stopping swiftly, she kissed
+him on the cheek and passed quickly to the half-open door by which she
+had entered. She was nearing the door when she stopped dead and shrank
+back toward the bed. Another electric lamp gleamed unexpectedly. He saw
+the white of her nightdress show as a dazzling strip of light where the
+beam caught it. Then the unknown intruder touched on the light, and they
+stood revealed, the girl tall, imperious, a look of scorn on her
+beautiful face, and the stout menial with the crooked nose.
+
+Boolba wore an old dressing-gown girdled about with a soiled rainbow
+sash. His feet were bare, and in his two hands laying from palm to palm
+was a long thin knife.
+
+At the sight of the girl he fell back, a grotesque sprawling movement
+which was not without its comicality. A look of blank bewilderment
+creased his big face.
+
+"You--you, Highness!" he croaked. "The Jew, where is he?"
+
+She was silent. Malcolm saw the quick rise and fall of her bosom, saw
+the book clutched closer to her side beneath the filmy silken gown.
+
+Boolba looked from the girl to Malcolm, from Malcolm to the heavy
+curtains at either side of the open window--curtains which the drugged
+man had not drawn.
+
+"He has left his quarters, Highness," Boolba spoke eagerly; "he was seen
+to enter the grounds of the palace--where is he?"
+
+He took a step toward her.
+
+"Stand back--you slave!" she breathed, but with a bound he was upon her.
+There was a brief struggle, and the book was wrenched from her hand.
+
+Malcolm saw all this, but lay as one dead. He was conscious but
+paralysed by the potion, and could only watch the girl in the grip of
+the obese monster and feel his heart going like a steam hammer.
+
+Boolba stood gloating over his prize, fondling the book in his big,
+coarse hands. Malcolm wondered why the girl did not scream--yet how
+could she? She was in his room in the middle of the night, she, a
+daughter of emperors.
+
+The man tried to wrench open the locks which held the covers, but
+failed. Suddenly he looked up, and glared across at the girl.
+
+He said nothing, but the suspicion in that scowl was emphasized when he
+moved to the wall near the window and the light of a bracket lamp.
+
+Again he examined the book and for the first time spoke:
+
+"Oh, Highness, was it you who sent for Israel Kensky that the book
+should be restored----"
+
+So far he got when an arm came from behind the curtain--a hand
+blue-veined, and it held a yellow handkerchief.
+
+The girl saw it, and her hand went to her mouth.
+
+Then the handkerchief struck full across Boolba's face, covering it from
+forehead to the mouth.
+
+For a moment the man was paralysed, then he pulled the handkerchief away
+and clawed at the clay-like substance which adhered to his face.
+
+"Mother of God!"
+
+He screamed the words and, dropping the book, stumbled forward, rubbing
+at his face, shrieking with pain.
+
+The girl ran swiftly through the open door, for feet were now pattering
+along the corridors and the flicker of lights showed through the
+doorway. Boolba was rolling on the ground in agony when the servants
+crowded in, followed by the Grand Duke--and he alone was fully dressed.
+
+"Boolba--what is it?"
+
+"The book--the book! It is mine! See ... floor!"
+
+But the book had disappeared.
+
+"Where, Boolba--where, my good Boolba?" The voice of Boolba's master was
+tremulous. "Show me--did he strike you--he shall suffer, by the saints!
+Look for it, Boolba!"
+
+"Look! Look!" yelled the writhing man. "How shall I look? I who am
+blind--blind--blind!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+TERROR IN MAKING
+
+
+In the spring of 1919 Malcolm Hay came out from the Kursky Voksal
+carrying his own well-worn valise. An indifferent cigar was clenched
+between his white teeth, and there was a sparkle of amusement in his
+grave eyes. He stood seventy inches in his stockings, and an excellent
+judge of men who looked him over, noted the set and width of shoulders,
+the upward lift of chin, the tanned face and flexibility of body, marked
+him down "soldier"--either American or English.
+
+Malcolm looked up and down the deserted street and then caught the eye
+of the solitary _intooski_, a thoughtful-looking man with a short,
+square beard, looking monstrously stout in his padded green coat, the
+livery of the Moscow drosky driver.
+
+The man on the sidewalk smiled and walked across the pavement.
+
+"Little brother," he said in fluent Russian, "would you condescend to
+drive me to the Hotel du Bazar Slav?"
+
+The driver who had noted so approvingly the shape of Malcolm's
+shoulders did not immediately answer; then:
+
+"British?--I thought you were."
+
+He spoke excellent English, and Malcolm looked up at him bewildered.
+
+"I seem to know your face, too--let me think."
+
+The cab-driver tapped his bearded chin.
+
+"I have it--Hay. I met you four years ago at a dinner party in
+Kieff--you are the manager of an oil company or something of the sort."
+
+"Right," said the astonished young man, "but--I don't exactly place
+you."
+
+The drosky driver smiled.
+
+"And yet I dined with you," he said. "I sat next the Grand Duchess
+Irene--later, when war broke out, I invited you to my headquarters."
+
+"Good God!" Malcolm's jaw dropped. "General Malinkoff!"
+
+"Commanding the 84th Caucasian Division," said the bearded man dryly,
+"and now commanding one little horse. If you will get into my excellent
+cab I will drive you to a restaurant where we may eat and drink and be
+almost merry for--fifty roubles."
+
+Malcolm stepped into the little drosky like a man in a dream. Malinkoff!
+He remembered him, a fine figure on a horse, riding through Kieff at
+the head of a glittering throng of staff officers. There was a function
+at the Grand Hotel to meet the new Commander, a great parade at that
+ancient palace in his honour--Malcolm had come in from the oil-fields
+partly to meet him at dinner--partly for news of one who had of a sudden
+vanished from his life.
+
+The drosky drove furiously through the east end of the town, and the
+passenger noted that the driver was careful to avoid the big
+thoroughfares which led to the Krasnaya Plotzad and that centre of
+Moscow which is the Kremlin.
+
+Presently it drew up before a small eating-house in a poor street, and
+the driver hoisted himself to the ground. He left his horse unattended
+and, leading the way, pushed open the swing doors of the restaurant and
+passed down a long, low-ceilinged room crowded with diners, to a table
+at the far end.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Hay. I can promise you a fair but by no means sybarite
+feast--good morning, Nicholas Vassilitsky."
+
+He nodded pleasantly to a grey-haired man in a workman's blouse sitting
+at the next table, and the man addressed rose stiffly, bowed and sat
+down.
+
+"If you wish your clothes valeted whilst you are in Moscow, I recommend
+my friend," said the driver, snapping his fingers towards a stout
+waitress. "Colonel Nicholas Vassilitsky is not only an excellent
+Director of Military Intelligence but he can press a pair of trousers
+with any man."
+
+He gave his orders briefly, and turned to his companion.
+
+"First of all, let me interrogate you. You are on your way to
+Petrograd?"
+
+"Yes--I am on my way home. During the war I have been controlling allied
+supplies in Little Russia--the Revolution stopped that."
+
+"Fortunate man--to have a country," said General Malinkoff, and he spoke
+seriously and without bitterness. "A country and an army--coherent,
+disciplined comrades in arms."
+
+He shrugged his padded shoulders.
+
+"Yes--you are on your way to your home? It will take you months to leave
+the country--if you ever leave it. I tried to leave last month. I am a
+reactionary with a leaning toward discipline. I cannot breathe the air
+of democracy. I used to think I had Liberal ideas. There was a time when
+I thought that a day would dawn when the world would be a great United
+States of Free People. Ah, well--I am still a reactionary."
+
+Malcolm knew that behind those grave eyes was a world of laughter, that
+beneath the solemn words was a gentle irony, and yet for the while he
+could not distinguish how much of tragedy there was in the man's fun.
+
+"But why are you----"
+
+"Driving a cab?" The general finished the sentence. "Because, my friend,
+I am human. I must eat, for example; I must have a room to sleep in. I
+need cigarettes, and clean shirts at least three times a week--for God's
+sake never let that be known. I must also have warm clothes for the
+winter--in fact, I must live."
+
+"But haven't you--money?" Malcolm felt all a decent man's embarrassment.
+"Forgive me butting into your affairs, but naturally I'm rather hazed."
+
+"Naturally," laughed the general. "A bottle of kavass, my peach of
+Turkistan, and a glass for our comrade."
+
+"Long live the Revolution!" wheezed the waitress mechanically.
+
+"Long may it live, little mother!" responded the general.
+
+When the girl had gone he squared round to his companion.
+
+"I have no shame, Mr. Hay--I'm going to let you pay for your own dinner
+because I cannot in these democratic times pauperize you by paying for
+you. No, I have no money. My balance in the State bank has been
+confiscated to the sacred cause of the people. My estate, a hundred
+versts or so from Moscow, confiscated to the sacred cause of the
+Revolution, my house in Petrograd is commandeered to the sacred service
+of the Soviet."
+
+"But your command?"
+
+The general did not smile now. He laid down his knife and fork and threw
+a glance behind him.
+
+"The men began shooting their officers in March, 1917," he said,
+lowering his voice. "They executed the divisional staff in May--the
+democratic spirit was of slow growth. They spared me because I had
+written a book in my youth urging popular government and had been
+confined in the fortess of Vilna for my crime. When the army was
+disbanded I came to Moscow, and the cab was given to me by a former
+groom of mine, one Isaac Mosservitch, who is now a judge of the high
+court and dispenses pretty good law, though he cannot sign his own
+name."
+
+"Mr. Hay," he went on earnestly, "you did wrong to come to Moscow. Get
+back to Kieff and strike down into the Caucasus. You can reach the
+American posts outside of Tiflis. You'll never leave Russia. The
+Bolsheviks have gone mad--blood-mad, murder-mad. Every foreigner is
+suspect. The Americans and the English are being arrested. I can get you
+a passport that will carry you to Odessa, and you can reach Batoum, and
+Baku from there."
+
+Malcolm leant back in his chair and looked thoughtfully at the other.
+
+"Is it so bad?"
+
+"Bad! Moscow is a mad-house. Listen--do you hear anything?"
+
+Above the hum of conversation Malcolm caught a sound like the cracking
+of whips.
+
+"Rifle-firing," said the general calmly. "There's a counter-revolution
+in progress. The advanced Anarchists are in revolt against the
+Bolsheviks. There is a counter-revolution every morning. We cab-drivers
+meet after breakfast each day and decide amongst ourselves which of the
+streets shall be avoided. We are pretty well informed--Prince
+Dalgoursky, who was a captain in the Preopojensky Guard, sells
+newspapers outside the Soviet headquarters, and the comrades give him
+tips. One of these days the comrades will shoot him, but for the moment
+he is in favour, and makes as much as a hundred roubles a day."
+
+The waitress came to the table, and the conversation momentarily ceased.
+When she had gone Malcolm put the question which he had asked so often
+in the past four years.
+
+"Can you give me any news of the Grand Duke Yaroslav?"
+
+The other shook his head.
+
+"His Highness was in Petrograd when I heard of him last."
+
+"And--and his daughter? She has been with the Russian Red Cross on the
+Riga front, I know."
+
+The bearded man shot a queer glance at his companion.
+
+"In what circumstances did you see her last?" he asked.
+
+Malcolm hesitated.
+
+He could hardly tell a stranger of that tragic scene which was enacted
+in his bedroom. From the moment she had fled through the door he had not
+set eyes upon her. In the morning when he had wakened, feeling sick and
+ill, he had been told that the Grand Duke and his daughter had left by
+the early northern express for the capital. Of Boolba, that hideously
+blinded figure, he heard nothing. When he inquired for Israel Kensky,
+men shrugged and said that he had "disappeared." His house was closed
+and the old man might be in prison or in hiding. Later he was to learn
+that Kensky had reappeared in Moscow, apparently without hindrance from
+the authorities. As for Boolba, he had kept his counsel.
+
+"You seem embarrassed," smiled Malinkoff. "I will tell you why I ask.
+You know that her Grand Ducal Highness was banished from Court for
+disobedience to the royal will?"
+
+Malcolm shook his head.
+
+"I know nothing--absolutely nothing. Kieff and Odessa are full of
+refugees and rumours, but one is as much a suspect as the other."
+
+"She would not marry--that is all. I forget the name of the exalted
+personage who was chosen for her, though I once helped to carry him up
+to bed--he drank heavily even in those days. God rest him! He died like
+a man. They hung him in a sack in Peter and Paul, and he insulted the
+Soviets to the last!"
+
+"So--so she is not married?"
+
+The general was silent, beckoning the waitress.
+
+"My little dear," he said, "what shall I pay you?"
+
+She gave him the scores and they settled.
+
+"Which way now?" asked the general.
+
+"I hardly know--what must a stranger do before he takes up his abode?"
+
+"First find an abode," said the general with a meaning smile. "You asked
+me to drive you to the Hotel Bazar Slav, my simple but misguided friend!
+That is a Soviet headquarters. You will certainly go to a place adjacent
+to the hotel to register yourself, and afterwards to the Commissary to
+register all over again, and, if you are regarded with approval, which
+is hardly likely, you will be given a ticket which will enable you to
+secure the necessities of life--the tickets are easier to get than the
+food."
+
+The first call at the house near the Bazar Slav gave them neither
+trouble nor results. The Soviet headquarters was mainly concerned with
+purely administrative affairs, and the organization of its membership.
+Its corridors and doorway were crowded with soldiers wearing the
+familiar red armlet, and when Malinkoff secured an interview with a
+weary looking and unkempt official, who sat collarless in his shirt
+sleeves at a table covered with papers, that gentleman could do no more
+than lean back in his chair and curse the interrupters volubly.
+
+"We might have dispensed with the headquarters visit," said Malinkoff,
+"but it is absolutely necessary that you should see the Commissary
+unless you want to be pulled out of your bed one night and shot before
+you're thoroughly awake. By the way, we have an interesting American in
+gaol--by his description I gather he is what you would call a gun-man."
+
+Malcolm stared.
+
+"Here--a gun-man?"
+
+Malinkoff nodded.
+
+"He held up the Treasurer-General of the Soviet and relieved him of his
+wealth. I would like to have met him--but I presume he is dead. Justice
+is swift in Moscow, especially for those who hold up the officials of
+the Revolution."
+
+"What sort of justice do these people administer?" asked Malcolm
+curiously.
+
+Malinkoff shrugged his padded shoulders.
+
+"Sometimes I think that the very habit of justice is dead in this land,"
+he said. "On the whole they are about as just and fair as was the old
+regime--that is not saying much, is it? The cruelty of our rule to-day
+is due rather to ignorance than to ill will. A few of the men higher up
+are working off their old grievances and are profiting enormously, but
+the rank and file of the movement are labouring for the millennium."
+
+"I think they're mad," said Malcolm.
+
+"All injustice is mad," replied Malinkoff philosophically. "Now get into
+my little cab, and I will drive you to the Commissary."
+
+The Commissary occupied a large house near the Igerian Gate. It was a
+house of such noble proportions that at first Malcolm thought it was one
+of the old public offices, and when Malinkoff had drawn up at the gate
+he put the question.
+
+"That is the house of the Grand Duke Yaroslav," said Malinkoff quietly.
+"I think you were inquiring about him a little earlier in the day."
+
+The name brought a little pang to Malcolm's heart, and he asked no
+further questions. There was a sentry on the _podyasde_--an untidy,
+unshaven man, smoking a cigarette--and a group of soldiers filled the
+entrance, evidently the remainder of the guard.
+
+The Commissary was out. When would he be back? Only God knew. He had
+taken "the Little Mother" for a drive in the country, or perhaps he had
+gone to Petrograd--who knew? There was nobody to see but the
+Commissary--on this fact they insisted with such vehemence that Malcolm
+gathered that whoever the gentleman was, he brooked no rivals and
+allowed no possible supplanter to stand near his throne.
+
+They came back at four o'clock in the afternoon, but the Commissary was
+still out. It was nine o'clock, after five inquiries, that the sentry
+replied "Yes" to the inevitable question.
+
+"Now you will see him," said Malinkoff, "and the future depends upon the
+potency of your favourite patron saint."
+
+Malcolm stopped in the doorway.
+
+"General----" he said.
+
+"Not that word," said Malinkoff quickly. "Citizen or comrade--comrade
+for preference."
+
+"I feel that I am leading you into danger--I have been horribly selfish
+and thoughtless. Will it make any difference to you, your seeing him?"
+
+Malinkoff shook his head.
+
+"You're quite right, it is always dangerous to attract the attention of
+the Committee for Combatting the Counter-Revolution," he said, "but
+since I have taken you in hand I might as well see him as stay outside
+on my cab, because he is certain to inquire who brought you here, and it
+might look suspicious if I did not come in with you. Besides, somebody
+will have to vouch for you as a good comrade and friend of the Soviet."
+
+He was half in earnest and half joking, but wholly fatalistic.
+
+As they went up the broad spiral staircase which led to the main floor
+of the Yaroslav Palace, Malcolm had qualms. He heartily cursed himself
+for bringing this man into danger. So far as he was concerned, as he
+told himself, there was no risk at all, because he was a British
+traveller, having no feeling one way or the other toward the Soviet
+Government. But Malinkoff would be a marked man, under suspicion all the
+time. Before the office of the Commissary was a sentry without rifle. He
+sat at a table which completely blocked the doorway, except for about
+eight inches at one side. He inquired the business of the visitors, took
+their names and handed them to a soldier, and with a sideways jerk of
+his head invited them to squeeze past him into the bureau.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE COMMISSARY WITH THE CROOKED NOSE
+
+
+There were a dozen men in the room in stained military overcoats and red
+armlets. One, evidently an officer, who carried a black portfolio under
+his arm, was leaning against the panelled wall, smoking and snapping his
+fingers to a dingy white terrier that leapt to his repeated invitations.
+
+At the table, covered with documents, were two people, the man and the
+woman.
+
+She, sprawling indolently forward, her head upon her arm, her strong
+brown face turned to the man, was obviously a Jewess. The papers were
+streaked and greasy where her thick black ringlets had rested, and the
+ashes of her cigarette lay in little untidy heaps on the table.
+
+The man was burly, with a great breadth of shoulder and big rough hands.
+But it was his face which arrested the feet of Malcolm and brought him
+to a sudden halt the moment he came near enough to see and recognize the
+Commissary.
+
+It was not by his bushy red beard nor the stiff, upstanding hair, but
+by the crooked nose, that he recognized Boolba, sometime serving-man to
+the Grand Duke Yaroslav. Malcolm, looking at the sightless eyes, felt
+his spine go creepy.
+
+Boolba lifted his head sharply at the sound of an unfamiliar footfall.
+
+"Who is this?" he asked. "Sophia Kensky, you who are my eyes, tell me
+who is this?"
+
+"Oh, a boorjoo," said the woman lazily.
+
+"A foreigner too--who are you, boorjoo?"
+
+"A Britisher," said Malcolm.
+
+Boolba lifted his chin and turned his face at the voice.
+
+"A Britisher," he repeated slowly. "The man on the oil-fields. Tell me
+your name."
+
+"Hay--Malcolm Hay," said Malcolm, and Boolba nodded.
+
+His face was like a mask and he expressed no emotion.
+
+"And the other?"
+
+"Malinkoff!" snapped the voice at Malcolm's side, and Boolba nodded.
+
+"Commanding an army--I remember. You drive a cab, comrade. Are there any
+complaints against this man?"
+
+He turned his face to Sophia Kensky, and she shook her head.
+
+"Are there any complaints against this man, Sophia?" he repeated.
+
+"None that I know. He is an aristocrat and a friend of the Romanoffs."
+
+"Huh!" The grunt sounded like a note of disappointment. "What do you
+want?"
+
+"The stranger wishes permission to remain in Moscow until he can find a
+train to the north," said Malinkoff.
+
+Boolba made no reply. He sat there, his elbows on the table, his fingers
+twining and untwining the thick red hair of his beard.
+
+"Where does he sleep to-night?" he asked after awhile.
+
+"He sleeps in my stable, near the Vassalli Prospekt," said Malinkoff.
+
+Boolba turned to the woman, who was lighting a new cigarette from the
+end of the old one, and said something in a low, growling tone.
+
+"Do as you wish, my little pigeon," she said audibly.
+
+Again his hand went to his beard and his big mouth opened in meditation.
+Then he said curtly:
+
+"Sit down."
+
+There was no place to sit, and the two men fell back amongst the
+soldiers.
+
+Again the two at the table consulted, and then Sophia Kensky called a
+name. The man in a faded officer's uniform came forward, his big black
+portfolio in his hand, and this he laid on the table, opening the flap
+and taking out a sheaf of papers.
+
+"Read them to me, Sophia," said Boolba. "Read their names."
+
+He groped about on the table and found first a rubber stamp and then a
+small, flat ink-pad. Sophia lifted the first of the papers and spelt out
+the names.
+
+"Mishka Sasanoff," she said, and the man growled.
+
+"An upstart woman and very ugly," he said. "I remember her. She used to
+whip her servants. Tell me, Sophia, my life, what has she done now?"
+
+"Plotted to destroy the Revolution," said the woman.
+
+"Huh!" grunted the man, as he brought his rubber stamp to the paper,
+passing it across to the waiting officer, who replaced it in his
+portfolio. "And the next?"
+
+"Paul Geslkin," she said and passed the document to him. "Plotting to
+overthrow the Revolution."
+
+"A boorjoo, a tricky young man, in league with the priests," he said,
+and again his stamp came down upon the paper, and again the paper went
+across the table into the portfolio of the officer.
+
+The soldiers about Malcolm and his friend had edged away, and they were
+alone.
+
+"What are these?" whispered Malcolm.
+
+"Death warrants," replied Malinkoff laconically, and for the second time
+a cold chill ran down Malcolm's spine.
+
+Name after name were read out, and the little rubber stamp, which
+carried death to one and sorrow to so many, thudded down upon the paper.
+Malcolm felt physically ill. The room was close and reeked of vile
+tobacco fumes. There was no ventilation, and the oil lamps made the
+apartment insufferably hot. An hour, two hours passed, and no further
+notice was paid to the two men.
+
+"I can't understand it quite," said Malinkoff in a low voice.
+"Ordinarily this would mean serious trouble, but if the Commissary had
+any suspicion of you or me, we should have been in prison an hour ago."
+
+Then suddenly Boolba rose.
+
+"What is the hour?" he said.
+
+A dozen voices replied.
+
+"Half-past ten? It is time that the sweeper was here."
+
+He threw back his head and laughed, and the men joined in the laughter.
+With a great yellow handkerchief, which reminded Malcolm of something
+particularly unpleasant, Boolba wiped the streams from his sightless
+eyes and bent down to the woman at his side, and Malcolm heard him say:
+"What is his name--he told me," and then he stood up.
+
+"Hay," he said, "you are a boorjoo. You have ordered many men to sweep
+your room. Is it not good that a house should be clean, eh?"
+
+"Very good, Boolba," said Malcolm quietly.
+
+"Boolba he calls me. He remembers well. That is good! I stood behind
+him, comrades, giving wine and coffee and bowing to this great English
+lord! Yes, I, Boolba!" he struck his chest, "crawled on my knees to this
+man, and he calls me Boolba now--Boolba!" he roared ferociously. "Come
+here! Do this! Clean my boots, Boolba! Come, little Boolba, bow thy neck
+that I may rest my foot!"
+
+A voice from the door interrupted him.
+
+"Good!" he said. "My sweeper has arrived, Hay. Once a day she sweeps my
+room and once a day she makes my bed. No ordinary woman will satisfy
+Boolba. She must come in her furs, drive in her fine carriage from the
+Nijitnkaya--behold!"
+
+Malcolm looked to the doorway and was struck dumb with amazement.
+
+The girl who came in was dressed better than he expected any woman to
+be dressed in Moscow. A sable wrap was about her shoulders, a sable
+toque was on her head. He could not see the worn shoes nor the shabby
+dress beneath the costly furs; indeed, he saw nothing but the face--the
+face of his dreams--unchanged, unlined, more beautiful than he had
+remembered her. She stood stiffly in her pride, her little chin held up,
+her contemptuous eyes fixed upon the man at the table. Then loosing her
+wrap, she hung it upon a peg, and opening a cupboard, took out a broad
+broom.
+
+"Sweep, Irene Yaroslav," said the man.
+
+Malcolm winced at the word, and Malinkoff turned to him sharply.
+
+"You know her?" he said. "Of course you do--I remember. Was that why
+Boolba kept us waiting?"
+
+"He was butler in the Yaroslav household," said Malcolm in the same
+tone.
+
+"That explains it," said Malinkoff. "All this is for the humiliation of
+the Grand Duchess."
+
+"Sweep well, little one," scoffed Boolba from his table. "Does it not do
+your heart good, Sophia Kensky? Oh, if I had only eyes to see! Does she
+go on her knees? Tell me, Sophia."
+
+But the woman found no amusement in the sight, and she was not smiling.
+Her high forehead was knitted, her dark eyes followed every movement of
+the girl. As Boolba finished speaking she leant forward and demanded
+harshly:
+
+"Irene Yaroslav, where is Israel Kensky?"
+
+"I do not know," replied the girl, not taking her eyes from her work.
+
+"You lie," said the woman. "You shall tell me where he is and where he
+has hidden his 'Book of All-Power.' She knows, Boolba."
+
+"Peace, peace!" he said, laying his big hand on her shoulder. "Presently
+she will tell and be glad to tell. Where is your father, Irene
+Yaroslav?"
+
+"You know best," she replied, and the answer seemed to afford him
+amusement.
+
+"He was a religious man," he scoffed. "Did he not believe in miracles?
+Was there any saint in Kieff he did not patronize? He is with the saints
+this day," and then, in a fierce whisper to Sophia--"How did she look?
+Tell me, Sophia. How did she look when I spoke?"
+
+"He died three weeks ago," said Irene quietly, "at the Fortress of Peter
+and Paul," and Boolba rapped out an oath.
+
+"Who told you? Who told you?" he roared. "Tell me who told you, and I
+will have his heart out of him! I wanted to tell you that myself!"
+
+"The High Commissary Boyaski," she replied, and Boolba swallowed his
+rage, for who dared criticize the High Commissaries, who hold power of
+life and death in their hands, even over their fellow officials? He sank
+down in his chair again and turned impatiently to Sophia.
+
+"Have you no tongue in your head, Sophia Kensky!" he asked irritably.
+"Tell me all she does. How is she sweeping--where?"
+
+"By the men, near the big bookcase," said the woman reluctantly.
+
+"Yes, yes," and he nodded his great head.
+
+He rose, walked round the table, and paced slowly to the girl as she
+stood quietly waiting. Malcolm had no weapon in his pocket. He had been
+warned by Malinkoff that visitors were searched. But on the table lay a
+sheathed sword--possibly the mark of authority which Boolba carried. But
+evidently this ceremony was a nightly occurrence. Boolba did no more
+than pass his hand over the girl's face.
+
+"She is cool," he said in a disappointed tone. "You do not work hard
+enough, Irene Yaroslav. To-morrow you shall come with water and shall
+scrub this room."
+
+The girl made no reply, but as he walked back to his seat of authority
+she continued her work, her eyes fixed on the floor, oblivious of her
+surroundings. Presently she worked round the room until she came to
+where Malcolm stood, and as she did so for the first time she raised her
+head, and her eyes met his. Again he saw that little trick of hers; her
+hand went to her mouth, then her head went down, and she passed on as
+though she had never seen him.
+
+"What did she do, Sophia? Tell me what she did when she came to the
+Englishman. Did she not see him?"
+
+"She was startled," grumbled Sophia; "that is all. Boolba, let the woman
+go."
+
+"Nay, nay, my little pigeon, she must finish her work."
+
+"She has finished," said Sophia impatiently; "how long must this go on,
+Boolba? Is she not an aristocrat and a Romanoff, and are there none of
+your men who want wives?"
+
+Malcolm felt rather than saw the head of every soldier in the room lift
+to these words.
+
+"Wait a little," said Boolba. "You forget the book, my little
+pigeon--the 'Book of All-Power.' I would have that rather than that
+Irene Yaroslav found a good husband from our comrades. You may go, Irene
+Yaroslav," he said. "Serge!"
+
+The officer who had taken the death warrants, and who stood waiting for
+dismissal, came forward.
+
+"Take our little brother Malinkoff and the Britisher Hay and place them
+both in the prison of St. Basil. They are proved enemies to the
+Revolution."
+
+"I wonder who will feed my little horse to-night," said Malinkoff as,
+handcuffed to his companion, he marched through the streets in the light
+of dawn, en route, as he believed, to certain death.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+IN THE PRISON OF ST. BASIL
+
+
+The temporary prison called by Boolba "St. Basil," was made up of four
+blocks of buildings. All save one were built of grey granite, and
+presented, when seen from the courtyard below, tiers of little windows
+set with monotonous regularity in discoloured walls. The fourth was
+evidently also of granite, but at some recent period an attempt had been
+made to cover its forbidding facade with plaster. The workmen had
+wearied of their good intent and had left off when their labours were
+half finished, which gave the building the gruesome appearance of having
+been half skinned. Flush with the four sides of the square was an open
+concrete trench, approached at intervals by flights of half a dozen
+stone steps leading to this alley-way.
+
+Malcolm Hay was pushed down one of these, hurried along the alley-way,
+passing a number of mailed iron doors, and as many barred windows, and
+was halted before one of the doors whilst the warder who all the time
+smoked a cigar, produced a key. The door was unlocked, and Hay was
+thrust in. Malinkoff followed. The door slammed behind them, and they
+heard the "click-clock" of the steel lock shooting to its socket.
+
+The room was a medium-sized apartment, innocent of furniture save for a
+table in the centre of the room and a bench which ran round the walls.
+Light came from a small window giving a restricted view of the courtyard
+and a barred transom above the doorway. An oblong slit of ground glass
+behind which was evidently an electric globe served for the night.
+
+There were two occupants of the room, who looked up, one--a grimy,
+dishevelled priest--blankly, the other with the light of interest in his
+eyes.
+
+He sat in his shirt-sleeves, his coat being rolled up to serve as a
+pillow. Above the "bed" hung a Derby hat--an incongruous object. He was
+short, stout, and fresh coloured, with a startling black moustache
+elaborately curled at the ends and two grey eyes that were lined around
+with much laughter. He walked slowly to the party and held out his hand
+to Malcolm.
+
+"Welcome to the original Bughouse," he said, and from his accent it was
+impossible to discover whether he was American or English. "On behalf of
+self an' partner, we welcome you to Bughouse Lodge. When do you go to
+the chair--he's due to-day," he jerked his thumb at the crooning priest.
+"I can't say I'm sorry. So far as I am concerned he's been dead ever
+since they put him here."
+
+Malcolm recognized the little man in a flash. It was his acquaintance of
+London.
+
+"You don't remember me," smiled Malcolm, "but what is your particular
+crime?"
+
+The little man's face creased with laughter.
+
+"Shootin' up Tcherekin," he said tersely, and Malinkoff's eyebrows rose.
+
+"You're--Beem--is that how you pronounce it?"
+
+"Bim," said the other, "B-I-M. Christian name Cherry--Cherry Bim; see
+the idea? Named after the angels. Say, when I was a kid--I've got a
+photograph way home in Brooklyn to prove it--I had golden hair in long
+ringlets!"
+
+Malinkoff chuckled softly.
+
+"This is the American who held up Tcherekin and nearly got away with ten
+million roubles," he said.
+
+Cherry Bim had taken down his Derby and had adjusted it at the angle
+demanded by the circumstances.
+
+"That's right--but I didn't know they was roubles. I _should_ excite my
+mentality over waste paper! No, we got word that it was French money."
+
+"There was another man in it?" said Malinkoff, lighting a
+cigarette--there had been no attempt to search them.
+
+"Don't let that match go out!" begged Cherry Bim, and dug a stub from
+his waistcoat pocket. "Yes," he puffed, "Isaac Moskava--they killed poor
+old Issy. He was a good feller, but too--too--what's the word when a
+feller falls to every dame he meets?"
+
+"Impressionable?" suggested Malcolm.
+
+"That's the word," nodded Cherry Bim; "we'd got away with twenty
+thousand dollars' worth of real sparklers in Petrograd. They used to
+belong to a princess, and we took 'em off the lady friends of Groobal,
+the Food Commissioner, and I suggested we should beat it across the
+Swedish frontier. But no, he had a girl in Moscow--he was that kind of
+guy who could smell patchouli a million miles away."
+
+Malcolm gazed at the man in wonderment.
+
+"Do I understand that you are a--a----" He hesitated to describe his
+companion in misfortune, realizing that it was a very delicate position.
+
+"I'm a cavalier of industry," said Cherry Bim, with a flourish.
+
+"Chevalier is the word you want," suggested Malcolm, responding to his
+geniality.
+
+"It's all one," said the other cheerfully. "It means crook, I guess?
+Don't think," he said seriously, "don't you think that I'm one of those
+cheap gun-men you can buy for ten dollars, because I'm not. It was the
+love of guns that brought me into trouble. It wasn't trouble that
+brought me to the guns. I could use a gun when I was seven," he said.
+"My dad--God love him!--lived in Utah, and I was born at Broke Creek and
+cut my teeth on a '45. I could shoot the tail-feathers off a fly's
+wing," he said. "I could shoot the nose off a mosquito."
+
+It was the deceased Isaac Moskava who had brought him to Russia, he
+said. They had been fellow fugitives to Canada, and Isaac, who had
+friends in a dozen Soviets, had painted an entrancing picture of the
+pickings which were to be had in Petrograd. They worked their way across
+Canada and shipped on a Swedish barque, working their passage before the
+mast. At Stockholm Issy had found a friend, who forwarded them carriage
+paid to the capital, whereafter things went well.
+
+"Have you got any food?" asked Cherry Bim suddenly. "They starve you
+here. Did you ever eat _schie_? It's hot water smelling of cabbage."
+
+"Have you been tried?" asked Malinkoff, and the man smiled.
+
+"Tried!" he said contemptuously. "Say, what do you think's goin' to
+happen to you? Do you think you'll go up before a judge and hire a
+lawyer to defend you? Not much. If they try you, it's because they've
+got something funny to tell you. Look here."
+
+He leapt up on to the bench with surprising agility and stood on tiptoe,
+so that his eyes came level with a little grating in the wall. The
+opening gave a view of another cell.
+
+"Look," said Cherry Bim, stepping aside, and Malcolm peered through the
+opening.
+
+At first he could see nothing, for the cell was darker than the room he
+was in, but presently he distinguished a huddled form lying on the
+bench, and even as he looked it was galvanized to life. It was an old
+man who had leaped from the bench mumbling and mouthing in his terror.
+
+"I am awake! I am awake!" he screamed in Russian. "_Gospodar_, observe
+me! I am awake!"
+
+His wild yells shrunk to a shrill sobbing, and then, with a long sigh,
+he climbed back to the bench and turned his back to the wall. Malcolm
+exchanged glances with Malinkoff, who had shared the view.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"Come down and I'll tell you. Don't let the old man hear you speak--he's
+frightened."
+
+"What did he say?" he asked curiously.
+
+Malcolm repeated the words, and Cherry Bim nodded.
+
+"I see. I thought they were stuffing me when they told me, but it's
+evidently true. He's a Jew," he went on. "Do you think them guys don't
+kill Jews? Don't you make any mistake about that--they'll kill anybody.
+This old man has a daughter or a granddaughter, and one of the comrades
+got fresh with him, so poor old Moses--I don't know his name but he
+looks like the picture of Moses that we had in our Bible at home--shot
+at this fellow and broke his jaw, so they sent him to be killed in his
+sleep."
+
+"In his sleep?" repeated Malcolm incredulously, and Cherry Bim nodded.
+
+"That's it," he said. "So long as he's awake they won't kill him--at
+least they say so. I guess when his time comes they'll settle him,
+asleep or awake. The poor old guy thinks that so long as he's awake he's
+safe--do you get me?"
+
+"It's hellish!" said Malcolm between his teeth. "They must be devils."
+
+"Oh, no, they're not," said Cherry Bim. "I've got nothing on the
+Soviets. I bet the fellow that invented that way of torturing the old
+man thinks he's done a grand bit of work. Say, suppose you turned a lot
+of kids loose to govern the United States, why Broadway would be all
+cluttered up with dead nursery maids and murdered governesses. That's
+what's happening in Russia. They don't mean any harm. They're doing all
+they know to govern, only they don't know much--take no notice of his
+reverence, he always gets like this round about meal times."
+
+The voice of the black-coated priest grew louder. He stood before the
+barred window, crossing himself incessantly.
+
+"It is the celebration of the Divine Mystery," said Malinkoff in a low
+voice, and removed his cap.
+
+"For our holy fathers the high priests Basil the Great, Gregory the
+Divine, Nicholas of Myra in Lycia, for Peter and Alexis and Jonas, and
+all holy high priests," groaned the man, "for the holy wonder workers,
+the disinterested Cosmas and Damiauns, Cyrus and John, Pantaleon and
+Hermolaus, and all unmercenary saints...!
+
+"By the intercession of these, look down upon us, O God!"
+
+He walked back to his seat and, taking compassion upon this man with a
+white, drawn face, Malcolm went to him.
+
+"Little father," he said, "is there anything we can do for you?"
+
+He produced his cigarette case, but the pope shook his head.
+
+"There is nothing, my son" he replied in a weary voice, which he did
+not raise above one monotonous tone, "unless you can find the means of
+bringing Boolba to this cell. Oh, for an hour of the old life!" He
+raised his hand and his voice at the same moment, and the colour came to
+his cheeks. "I would take this Boolba," he said, "as holy Ivan took the
+traitors before the Kremlin, and first I would pour boiling hot water
+upon him and then ice cold water, and then I would flay him, suspending
+him by the ankles; then before he was dead I would cut him in four
+pieces----"
+
+"Phew!" said Malcolm, and walked away.
+
+"Did you expect to find a penitent soul?" asked Malinkoff dryly. "My
+dear fellow, there is very little difference between the Russian of
+to-day and the Russian of twelve months ago, with this exception, that
+the men who had it easy are now having it hard, and those who had to
+work and to be judged are now the judges."
+
+Malcolm said nothing. He went to the bench and making himself as
+comfortable as possible he lay down. It was astounding that he could be,
+as he was, accustomed to captivity in the space of a few hours. He might
+have lived in bondage all his life, and he would be prepared to live for
+ever so long as--he did not want to think of the girl, that sweeper of
+Boolba's.
+
+As to his own fate he was indifferent. Somehow he believed that he was
+not destined to die in this horrible place, and prayed that at least he
+might see the girl once more before he fell a victim to the malice of
+the ex-butler.
+
+To his agony of mind was added a more prosaic distress--he was
+ravenously hungry, a sensation which was shared by his two companions.
+
+"I've never known them to be so late," complained Cherry Bim
+regretfully. "There's usually a bit of black bread, if there's nothing
+else."
+
+He walked to the window and, leaning his arms on the sill, looked
+disconsolately forth.
+
+"Hi, Ruski!" he yelled at some person unseen, and the other inmates of
+the room could see him making extravagant pantomime, which produced
+nothing in the shape of food.
+
+It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and Malcolm was dozing, when they
+heard the grate of the key in the lock and the slipping of bolts, then
+the door opened slowly. Malcolm leapt forward.
+
+"Irene--your Highness!" he gasped.
+
+The girl walked into the cell without a word, and put the big basket she
+had been carrying upon the table. There was a faint colour in the face
+she turned to Malcolm. Her hands were outstretched to him, and he caught
+them in his own and held them together.
+
+"Poor little girl!"
+
+She smiled.
+
+"Mr. Hay, you have made good progress in your Russian since I met you
+last," she said. "General Malinkoff, isn't it?"
+
+The general stood strictly to attention, his hand at his cap--a fact
+which seemed to afford great amusement to the gaoler who stood in the
+doorway, and who was an interested spectator.
+
+"It was Boolba's idea that I should bring you food," said the girl, "and
+I have been ordered to bring it to you every day. I have an idea that he
+thinks"--she stopped--"that he thinks I like you," she went on frankly,
+"and of course that is true. I like all people who fly into danger to
+rescue distressed females," she smiled.
+
+"Can anything be done for you?" asked Malcolm in a low voice. "Can't you
+get away from this place? Have you no friends?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I have one friend," she said, "who is in even greater danger than
+I--no, I do not mean you. Mr. Hay"--she lowered her voice--"there may be
+a chance of getting you out of this horrible place, but it is a very
+faint chance. Will you promise me that if you get away you will leave
+Russia at once?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"You asked me that once before, your Highness," he said. "I am less
+inclined to leave Russia now than I was in the old days, when the danger
+was not so evident."
+
+"Highness"--it was the priest who spoke--"your magnificence has brought
+me food also? Highness, I served your magnificent father. Do you not
+remember Gregory the priest in the cathedral at Vladimir?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I have food for you, father," she said, "but I do not recall you."
+
+"Highness" he spoke eagerly and his eyes were blazing, "since you go
+free, will you not say a prayer for me before the miraculous Virgin? Or,
+better still, before the tomb of the holy and sainted Dimitry in the
+cathedral of the Archangel! And, lady," he seized her hand in entreaty,
+"before the relics of St. Philip the Martyr in our Holy Cathedral of the
+Assumption."
+
+Gently the girl disengaged her arm.
+
+"Father, I will pray for you," she said. "Good-bye!" she said to
+Malcolm, and again extended both her hands, "till to-morrow!"
+
+Malcolm raised the hands to his lips, and stood like a man in a dream,
+long after the door had slammed behind her.
+
+"Gee!" said the voice of Cherry Bim with a long sigh. "She don't
+remember me, an' I don't know whether to be glad or sorry--some peach!"
+
+Malcolm turned on him savagely, but it was evident the man had meant no
+harm.
+
+"She is a friend of mine," he said sharply.
+
+"Sure she is," said the placid Cherry, unpacking the basket, "and the
+right kind of friend. If this isn't caviare! Say, shut your eyes, and
+you'd think you were at Rectoris."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+CHERRY BIM MAKES A STATEMENT
+
+
+Malcolm was awakened in the night by a scream. He sprang from the bench,
+his face bathed in perspiration.
+
+"What was that?" he asked hoarsely.
+
+Malinkoff was sitting on the edge of the bench rubbing his eyes.
+
+"I heard something," he yawned.
+
+Only Cheery Bim had not moved. He was lying on his back with his knees
+up and his hands behind his head, wide awake.
+
+"What was it, Cherry?" asked Malcolm.
+
+Slowly the little man rose and stretched himself.
+
+"I wonder what the time is," he said evasively.
+
+Malcolm looked at his watch.
+
+"Half-past three," he replied.
+
+"He's asleep anyway," said Cherry, nodding towards the recumbent figure
+of the priest. "He might have been useful--but I forgot the old man's a
+Jew."
+
+"Do you mean----?" said Malinkoff and glanced at the gate.
+
+Cherry nodded again.
+
+"I never thought they'd carry it out according to programme," he said,
+"but they did. I heard 'em come in."
+
+There was the thud of a door closing.
+
+"That's the door of his cell. They have taken him out, I guess. The last
+fellow they killed in there they hung on a hook--just put a rope round
+his neck and pushed him in a bag. He was a long time dying," he said
+reflectively, and Malcolm saw that the little man's lower lip was
+trembling in spite of his calm, matter-of-fact tone.
+
+Malinkoff had walked across to the priest, and had shaken him awake.
+
+"Father," he said, "a man has just died in the next cell. Would you not
+read the Office of the Dead?"
+
+The priest rose with an ill grace.
+
+"Why should I be awakened from my sleep?" he complained. "Who is this
+man?"
+
+"I do not know his name," said Malinkoff, "but he is a Jew----"
+
+"A Jew!"
+
+The priest spat on the ground contemptuously.
+
+"What, I speak an office for a Jew?" he demanded, wrath in his face.
+
+"For a man, for a human fellow creature," said Malinkoff sternly, but
+the priest had gone back to his hard couch, nor would he leave it, and
+Malinkoff, with a shrug of his shoulders, went back to his bed.
+
+"That is Russia--eternal Russia," he said, and he spoke without
+bitterness. "Neither Czar nor Soviet will alter it."
+
+They did not go to sleep again. Something was speaking to them from the
+next cell, something that whimpered and raised its hands in appeal, and
+they welcomed the daylight, but not the diversion which daylight
+brought. Again the door banged open, and this time a file of soldiers
+stood in the entrance.
+
+"Boris Michaelovitch," said the dark figure in the entrance, "it is the
+hour!"
+
+The priest rose slowly. His face was grey, the hands clasped together
+before him shook; nevertheless, he walked firmly to the door.
+
+Before the soldiers had closed around him he turned and raised his hand
+in blessing, and Malinkoff fell upon his knees.
+
+Again the door slammed and the bolts shot home, and they waited in
+silence.
+
+There was no sound for ten minutes, then came a crash of musketry, so
+unexpected and so loud that it almost deafened them. A second volley
+followed, and after an interval a third, and then silence. Cherry Bim
+wiped his forehead.
+
+"Three this morning," he said unsteadily. "Anyway, it's better than
+hanging."
+
+There was a long pause, and then:
+
+"Say," he said, "I'm sorry I said I was glad that guy was going."
+
+Malcolm understood.
+
+The day brought Irene at the same hour as on the previous afternoon. She
+looked around for the priest, and apparently understood, for she made no
+reference to the missing man.
+
+"If you can get away from here," she said, "go to Preopojenski. That is
+a village a few versts from here. I tell you this, but----"
+
+She did not complete her sentence, but Malcolm could guess from the
+hopeless despair in her voice.
+
+"Excuse me, miss," interrupted Cherry Bim. "Ain't there any way of
+getting a gun for a man? Any old kind of gun," he said urgently; "Colt,
+Smith-Wesson, Browning, Mauser--I can handle 'em all--but Colt
+preferred."
+
+She shook her head sadly.
+
+"It is impossible," she said. "I am searched every time I come in
+through the lodge."
+
+"In a pie," urged Cherry. "I've read in stories how you can get these
+things in a pie. Couldn't you make----"
+
+"It's quite impossible," she said. "Even bread is cut into four pieces.
+That is done in the lodge."
+
+Cherry Bim cast envious eyes on the tall guard at the doorway. He had a
+long revolver.
+
+"I'll bet," said Cherry bitterly, "he don't know any more about a gun
+than a school-marm. Why, he couldn't hit a house unless he was inside of
+it."
+
+"I must go now," said the girl hastily.
+
+"Tell me one thing," said Malcolm. "You spoke yesterday of having one
+friend. Is that friend Israel Kensky?"
+
+"Hush!" she said.
+
+She took his hand in both of hers.
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Hay," she said. "I may not come to-morrow."
+
+Her voice was hard and strained, and she seemed anxious to end the
+interview.
+
+"Boolba told me this morning," she went on, speaking rapidly but little
+above a whisper, "that he had----certain plans about me. Good-bye, Mr.
+Hay!"
+
+This time she shook hands with Malinkoff.
+
+"Don't forget the village of Preopojensky," she repeated. "There is only
+the slightest chance, but if God is merciful and you reach the outside
+world, you will find the house of Ivan Petroff--please remember that."
+And in a minute she was gone.
+
+"I wonder what was wrong," said Malcolm. "She was not so frightened
+when she came in, then she changed as though----"
+
+Looking round he had seen, only for the fraction of a second, a hand
+through the grating over the bench. Someone had been listening in the
+next cell, and the girl had seen him. He sprang upon a bench and peered
+through, in time to see the man vanish beyond the angle of his vision.
+Malinkoff was lighting his last cigarette.
+
+"My friend," he said, "I have an idea that in the early hours of the
+morning you and I will go the same way as the unfortunate priest."
+
+"What makes you think so?" asked Malcolm quickly.
+
+"Not only do I, but the Grand Duchess thinks so also," said Malinkoff.
+"Possibly this is news."
+
+Again the door was opened, and this time it was an officer of the Red
+Guard who appeared. He had evidently been chosen because of his
+knowledge of English.
+
+"I want the thief," he said tersely in that language.
+
+"That sounds remarkably like me," said Cherry.
+
+He put on his Derby hat slowly and went forth in his shirt-sleeves. They
+watched him through the window being taken across the courtyard and
+through the archway which led to the prison offices and the outer gate.
+
+"They haven't released him, I suppose?" asked Malcolm, and Malinkoff
+shook his head.
+
+"He is to be interrogated," he said. "Evidently there is something which
+Boolba wants to know about us, and which he believes this man will
+tell."
+
+Malcolm was silent, turning matters over in his mind.
+
+"He won't tell anything that will injure us," he said.
+
+"But the man is a crook," said Malinkoff; "that is the word, isn't it?"
+
+"That's the word," agreed Malcolm grimly, "but he's also a man of my own
+race and breed, and whilst I would not trust him with my pocket-book--or
+I should not have trusted him before I came in here--I think I can trust
+him with my life, supposing that he has my life in his hands."
+
+In twenty minutes Cherry Bim was back, very solemn and mysterious until
+the gaoler was gone. Then he asked:
+
+"Who is Israel Kensky, anyway?"
+
+"Why?" asked Malcolm quickly.
+
+"Because I'm going to make a statement about him--a written statement,"
+he said cheerfully. "I'm going to have a room all to myself," he spoke
+slowly as though he were repeating something which he had already told
+himself, "because I am not a quick writer. Then I am going to tell all
+that she said about Israel Kensky."
+
+"You can tell that in a second," said Malcolm sternly, and the little
+man raised a lofty hand.
+
+"Don't get up in the air."
+
+"Why have they sent you back now?"
+
+"To ask a question or two," said Cherry.
+
+He put on his coat, examined the interior of his hat thoughtfully, and
+jammed it down on his head.
+
+"Ten minutes are supposed to elapse," he said melodramatically, "passed
+in light and airy conversation about a book--the 'Book of--of----"
+
+"'All-Power'?" said Malcolm.
+
+"That's the fellow. I should say it's the history of this darned place.
+Here they come."
+
+He pulled down his coat, brushed his sleeves and stepped forward briskly
+to meet the English-speaking officer.
+
+They passed an anxious two hours before he returned, and, if anything,
+he was more solemn than ever. He made no reply to their questions, but
+paced the room, and then he began to sing, and his tune had more reason
+than rhyme.
+
+"Look through the grating," he chanted, "see if anybody is watching or
+listening, my honey, oh my honey!"
+
+"There's nobody there," said Malcolm after a brief inspection.
+
+"He'll be back again in five minutes," said Cherry, stopping his song
+and speaking rapidly. "I told him I wanted to be sure on one point, and
+he brought me back. I could have done it, but I wouldn't leave you
+alone."
+
+"Done what?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Saved myself. Do you know what I saw when I got into that room for the
+first time? The guy in charge was locking away in a desk three guns and
+about ten packets of shells. It sounds like a fairy story, but it's
+true, and it's a desk with a lock that you could open with your teeth!"
+
+It was Malinkoff who saw the possibilities of the situation which the
+man described.
+
+"And they left you alone in the room?" he asked quickly.
+
+"Sure," said Cherry. "Lift my hat, and lift it steady."
+
+Malcolm pulled his hat up, and the butt of a revolver slipped out.
+
+"There's a Browning there--be careful," said Cherry, ducking his head
+and pulling off his hat in one motion. "Here's the other under my arm,"
+he put his hand beneath his coat and pulled out a Colt.
+
+"Here are the shells for the automatic. I'll take the long fellow. Now
+listen, you boys," said Cherry. "Through that gateway at the end of the
+yard, you come to another yard and another gate, which has a guard on
+it. Whether we get away or whether we don't, depends on whether our luck
+is in or out."
+
+"Look!" he whispered, "here comes Percy!"
+
+The door swung open and the officer beckoned Cherry forward with a lift
+of his chin. Cherry walked toward him and the officer half turned in the
+attitude of one who was showing another out. Cherry's hand shot out,
+caught the man by the loose of his tunic and swung him into the room.
+
+"Laugh and the world laughs with you," said Cherry, who had an
+assortment of literary quotations culled from heaven knows where. "Shout
+and you sleep alone!"
+
+The muzzle of a long-barrelled '45 was stuck in the man's stomach. He
+did not see it, but he guessed it, and his hands went up.
+
+"Tie him up--he wears braces," said Cherry. "I'll take that belt of
+deadly weapons." He pulled one revolver from the man's holster and
+examined it with an expert's eye. "Not been cleaned for a month," he
+growled; "you don't deserve to be trusted with a gun."
+
+He strapped the belt about his waist and sighed happily.
+
+They gagged the man with a handkerchief, and threw him ungently upon
+the bench before they passed through the open door to comparative
+freedom. Cherry locked and bolted the door behind them, and pulled down
+the outer shutter, with which, on occasions, the gaoler made life in the
+cells a little more unendurable by excluding the light. The cells were
+below the level of the courtyard, and they moved along the trench from
+which they opened.
+
+Pacing his beat by the gateway was a solitary sentry.
+
+"Stay here," whispered Cherry; "he has seen me going backward and
+forward, and maybe he thinks I'm one of the official classes."
+
+He mounted the step leading up from the trench, and walked boldly toward
+the gateway. Nearing the man, he turned to wave a greeting to an
+imaginary companion. In reality he was looking to see whether there were
+any observers of the act which was to follow.
+
+Watching him, they did not see exactly what had happened. Suddenly the
+soldier doubled up like a jack-knife and fell.
+
+Cherry bent over him, lifted the rifle and stood it against the wall,
+then, exhibiting remarkable strength for so small a man, he picked up
+the man in his arms and dropped him into the trench which terminated at
+the gateway. They heard the thud of his body, and, breaking cover, they
+raced across the yard, joining Cherry, who led the way through the deep
+arch.
+
+Now they saw the outer barrier. It consisted of a formidable iron
+grille. To their right was a gloomy building, which Malcolm judged was
+the bureau of the prison, to the left a high wall. On either side of the
+gateway was a squat lodge, and before these were half a dozen soldiers,
+some leaning against the gate, some sitting in the doorway of the
+lodges, but all carrying rifles.
+
+"This way," said Cherry under his breath, and turned into the office.
+
+The door of the room on his left was open, and into this they walked. It
+was empty, but scarcely had they closed the door than there were
+footsteps outside. Cherry, with a gun in each hand, a hard and ugly grin
+on his fat face, covered the door, but the footsteps passed.
+
+There was a babble of voices outside and a rattle and creak of gates.
+Malcolm crept to the one window which the office held (he guessed it was
+here that Cherry had written his "statement"), and peeped cautiously
+forth.
+
+A big closed auto was entering the gate, and he pulled his head back.
+Cherry was at his side.
+
+"Somebody visiting--a fellow high up," whispered the latter hoarsely;
+"they'll come in here, the guy we left in the cell told me he'd want
+this room. Try that door!"
+
+He pointed to a tall press and Malinkoff was there in a second. The
+press was evidently used for the storage of stationery. There was one
+shelf, half way up, laden with packages of paper, and Malinkoff lifted
+one end. The other slipped and the packets dropped with a crash. But the
+purring of the auto in the yard was noisy enough to drown the sound
+unless somebody was outside the door.
+
+"Three can squeeze in--you go first, Mr. Hay."
+
+It was more than a squeeze, it was a torture, but the door closed on
+them.
+
+Malcolm had an insane desire to laugh, but he checked it at the sound of
+a voice--for it was the voice of Boolba.
+
+"I cannot stay very long, comrade," he was saying as he entered the
+room, "but...."
+
+The rest was a mumble.
+
+"I will see that she is kept by herself," said a strange voice,
+evidently of someone in authority at the prison.
+
+Malcolm bit his lips to check the cry that rose.
+
+"Irene!"
+
+"..." Boolba's deep voice was again a rumble.
+
+"Yes, comrade, I will bring her in ... let me lead you to a chair."
+
+He evidently went to the door and called, and immediately there was a
+tramp of feet.
+
+"What does this mean, Boolba?"
+
+Malcolm knew the voice--he had heard it before--and his relief was such
+that all sense of his own danger passed.
+
+"Sophia Kensky," Boolba was speaking now, "you are under arrest by order
+of the Soviet."
+
+"Arrest!" the word was screamed, "me----?"
+
+"You are plotting against the Revolution, and your wickedness has been
+discovered," said Boolba. "_Matinshka!_ Little mama, it is ordered!"
+
+"You lie! You lie!" she screeched. "You blind devil--I spit on you! You
+arrest me because you want the aristocrat Irene Yaroslav! Blind pig!"
+
+"_Prekanzeno, dushinka!_ It is ordered, dear little soul," murmured
+Boolba. "I go back alone--listen! My auto is turning. I go back alone,
+_drushka_, and who shall be my eyes now that my little mama is gone?"
+
+They heard the chair pushed back as he rose and the scream and flurry as
+she leapt at him.
+
+"Keep her away, little comrade," roared Boolba. "Keep her away--I am
+blind; her father blinded me; keep her away!"
+
+It was Cherry Bim who slipped first from the cupboard.
+
+Under the menace of his guns the soldiers fell back.
+
+"Auto Russki--hold up the guard, Hay," he muttered, and Malinkoff jumped
+through the doorway to the step of the big car in one bound.
+
+Cherry held the room. He spoke no Russian, but his guns were
+multi-lingual. There was a shot outside before he fired three times into
+the room. Then he fell back, slamming the door, and jumped into the car
+as it moved through the open gateway.
+
+Malcolm was on one footboard, Malinkoff by the side of the chauffeur on
+the other.
+
+So they rocked through the ill-paved streets of Moscow, and rushed the
+suburban barricade without mishap.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+IN THE HOLY VILLAGE
+
+
+"Preopojensky, but by a circuitous route," said Malinkoff, speaking
+across the chauffeur. "What about the wires?"
+
+He looked up at the telegraph lines, looping from pole to pole, and
+Malcolm thrust his head into the window of the limousine to communicate
+this danger to the sybaritic Mr. Bim, who was spraying himself with
+perfume from a bottle he had found in the well-equipped interior of the
+car.
+
+"Stop," said Cherry. "We're well away from Moscow."
+
+At a word from Malinkoff the chauffeur brought the car to a standstill
+and Cherry slipped out, revolver in hand.
+
+Then to the amazement of Malcolm and the unfeigned admiration of the
+general, Cherry Bim made good his boast. Four times his gun cracked and
+at each shot a line broke.
+
+"To be repeated at intervals," said Cherry, climbing into the car. "Wake
+me in half an hour," and, curling himself up in the luxurious depths of
+swansdown cushions, he fell asleep.
+
+Happily Malinkoff knew the country to an inch. They were not able to
+avoid the villages without avoiding the roads, but they circumnavigated
+the towns. At nightfall they were in the depths of a wood which ran down
+to the edge of the big lake on which the holy village of Preopojensky
+stands.
+
+"The chauffeur is not the difficulty I thought he would be," reported
+Malinkoff; "he used to drive Korniloff in the days when he was a
+divisional general, and he is willing to throw in his lot with ours."
+
+"Can you trust him!" asked Malcolm.
+
+"I think so," said Malinkoff, "unless we shoot him we simply must trust
+him--what do you think, Mr. Bim?"
+
+"You can call me Cherry," said that worthy. He was eating bread and sour
+cheese which had been bought at a fabulous price in one of the villages
+through which they had passed. Here again they might have been compelled
+to an act which would have called attention to their lawless character,
+for they had no money, had it not been for Cherry. He financed the party
+from the lining of his waistcoat (Malcolm remembered that the little man
+had never discarded this garment, sleeping or waking) and made a casual
+reference to the diamonds which had gone to his account via a
+soi-disant princess and the favourite of a Commissary.
+
+"Anyway," he said, "we could have got it from the chauffeur--he's open
+to reason."
+
+They did not ask him what argument he would have employed, but were glad
+subsequently that these arguments had not been used.
+
+What was as necessary as food was petrol. Peter the chauffeur said that
+there were big army supplies in Preopojensky itself, and undertook to
+steal sufficient to keep the car running for a week.
+
+They waited until it was dark before they left the cover of the wood,
+and walked in single file along a cart-track to the half a dozen
+blinking lights that stood for Preopojensky.
+
+The car they had pulled into deeper cover, marking the place with a
+splinter of mirror broken from its silver frame.
+
+"Nothing like a mirror," explained Cherry Bim. "You've only to strike a
+match, and it shows a light for you."
+
+The way was a long one, but presently they came to a good road which
+crossed the track at right angles, but which curved round until it ran
+parallel with the path they had followed.
+
+"There is the military store," whispered the chauffeur. "I will go now,
+my little general."
+
+"I trust you, _drushka_," said Malinkoff.
+
+"By the head of my mother I will not betray you," said the man, and
+disappeared in the darkness.
+
+After this they held a council of war.
+
+"So far as I can remember, Petroff is the silk merchant," said
+Malinkoff, "and his house is the first big residence we reach coming
+from this direction. I remember it because I was on duty at the
+Coronation of the Emperor, and his Imperial Majesty came to
+Preopojensky, which is a sacred place for the Royal House. Peter the
+Great lived here."
+
+Luck was with them, for they had not gone far before they heard a voice
+bellowing a mournful song, and came up with its owner, a worker in the
+silk mills (they had long since ceased to work) who was under the
+influence of methylated spirit--a favourite tipple since vodka had been
+ukased out of existence.
+
+"Ivan Petroff, son of Ivan?" he hiccoughed.
+
+"Yes, my little dove, it is there. He is a boorjoo and an aristocrat,
+and there is no Czar and no God!--_prikanzerio_--it is ordered by the
+Soviet!..."
+
+And he began to weep
+
+"No Czar and no God! Long live the Revolution! Evivo! No blessed saints
+and no Czar! And I was of the Rasholnik!..."
+
+They left him weeping by the roadside.
+
+"The Rasholniks are the dissenters of Russia--this village was a hotbed
+of them, but they've gone the way of the rest," said Malinkoff sadly.
+
+The house they approached was a big wooden structure ornamented with
+perfectly useless cupolas and domes, so that Malcolm thought at first
+that this was one of the innumerable churches in which the village
+abounded.
+
+There was a broad flight of wooden stairs leading to the door, but this
+they avoided. A handful of gravel at a likely-looking upper window
+seemed a solution. The response was immediate. Though no light appeared,
+the window swung open and a voice asked softly:
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"We are from Irene," answered Malcolm in the same tone.
+
+The window closed, and presently they heard a door unfastened and
+followed the sound along the path which ran close to the house. It was a
+small side door that was opened, and Malcolm led the way through.
+
+Their invisible host closed the door behind them, and they heard the
+clink of a chain.
+
+"If you have not been here before, keep straight on, touching the wall
+with your right hand. Where it stops turn sharply to the right," said
+the unknown rapidly.
+
+They followed his directions, and found the branch passage.
+
+"Wait," said the voice.
+
+The man passed them. They heard him turn a handle.
+
+"Straight ahead you will find the door."
+
+They obeyed, and their conductor struck a match and lit an oil lamp.
+They were in the long room--they guessed that by the glow of the closed
+stove they had seen as they entered.
+
+The windows were heavily shuttered and curtained, and even the door was
+hidden under a thick portiere. The man who had brought them in was
+middle-aged and poorly dressed, but then this was a time when everybody
+in Russia was poorly dressed, and his shabbiness did not preclude the
+possibility of his being the proprietor of the house, as indeed he was.
+
+He was eyeing them with suspicion, not wholly unjustified, for the
+patent respectability of Cherry's Derby hat was no compensation for the
+armoury belted about his rotund middle.
+
+But when the man's eyes fell upon Malinkoff, his whole demeanour
+changed, and he advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+"General Malinkoff," he said, "you remember me; I entertained you
+at----"
+
+"At Kieff! Of course!" smiled Malinkoff. "I did not know the Ivan
+Petroff of Moscow was the Ivan of the Ukraine."
+
+"Now, gentlemen, what is your wish?" asked the man, and Malinkoff
+explained the object of the visit.
+
+Petroff looked serious.
+
+"Of course, I will do anything her Highness wishes," he said. "I saw her
+yesterday, and she told me that she had a dear friend in St. Basil."
+Malcolm tried to look unconcerned under Malinkoff's swift scrutiny and
+failed. "But I think she wished you to meet another--guest."
+
+He paused.
+
+"He has gone into Moscow to-night against my wishes," he said with
+trouble in his face; "such an old man----"
+
+"Kensky?" said Malcolm quickly.
+
+"Kensky." The tone was short. "I told him that no good would come of
+it--her Highness was married to-night."
+
+Malcolm took a step forward, but it was an unsteady step.
+
+"Married?" he repeated. "To whom was she married?"
+
+Petroff looked down at the floor as though he dare not meet the eye of
+any man and say so monstrous a thing.
+
+"To the servant Boolba," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE RED BRIDE
+
+
+Irene Yaroslav came back to the home which had always been associated in
+her mind with unhappy memories, to meet the culminating disaster which
+Fate had wrought. Whatever thoughts of escape she may have treasured in
+secret were cut into by the sure knowledge that she was watched day and
+night, and were now finally terminated by the discovery that the big
+apartment house, a suite of which Boolba had taken for her disposal when
+he had ousted her from her father's house, was practically in possession
+of the Soviet Guard.
+
+She drove to the palace with an undisguised escort of mounted men, one
+on either side of the carriage, one before and one behind, and went up
+the stairs--those grim stairs which had frightened her as a child and
+had filled her nights with dreams, passing on her way the now empty
+bureau which it had been Boolba's whim for her to keep.
+
+Maria Badisikaya, an officer of the Committee for the Suppression of
+the Counter-Revolution, formerly an operative in the Moscow Cigarette
+Company, was waiting in the small drawing-room which still retained some
+of its ancient splendour. Maria was a short, stumpy woman with a slight
+moustache and a wart on her chin, and was dressed in green satin, cut
+low to disclose her generous figure. About her stiff, coal-black hair
+was a heavy diamond bandeau. She was sitting on a settee, her feet
+hardly touching the ground, cleaning her nails with a little
+pocket-knife as the girl entered. Evidently this was her maid of honour,
+and she could have laughed.
+
+The woman glowered up at her and jumped briskly to her feet, closing the
+knife and slipping it into her corsage.
+
+"You are late, Irene Yaroslav," she said shrilly. "I have something
+better to do than to sit here waiting for a boorjoo. There is a
+committee meeting at ten o'clock to-night. How do you imagine I can
+attend that? Come, come!"
+
+She bustled into an ante-room.
+
+"Here is your dress, my little bride. See, there is everything, even to
+stockings--Boolba has thought of all, yet he will not see! La! la! What
+a man!"
+
+Numerous articles of attire were laid out on chairs and on the back of
+the sofa, and the girl, looking at them, shuddered. It was Boolba's
+idea--nobody but Boolba would have thought of it. Every garment was of
+red, blood red, a red which seemed to fill the room with harsh sound.
+Stockings of finest silk, shoes of russian leather, cobweb
+underwear--but all of the same hideous hue. In Russia the word "red" is
+also the word "beautiful." In a language in which so many delicate
+shades of meaning can be expressed, this word serves a double purpose,
+doing duty for that which, in the eyes of civilized people, is garish,
+and that which is almost divine.
+
+Maria's manner changed suddenly. From the impatient, slightly pompous
+official, conscious of her position, she became obsequious and even
+affectionate. Possibly she remembered that the girl was to become the
+wife of the most powerful man in Moscow, whose word was amply sufficient
+to send even Gregory Prodol to the execution yard, and Gregory's
+position seemed unassailable.
+
+"I will help you to dress, my little dear," she said. "Let me take your
+hat, my little dove."
+
+"I would rather be alone," said the girl. "Will you please wait in the
+next room, Maria Badisikaya?"
+
+"But I can help you so, my little darling," said the woman, fussing
+about. "A bride has no luck for thirty years if she puts on her own
+stockings."
+
+"Go!" said the girl imperiously, and the woman cringed.
+
+"Certainly, Excellenz," she stammered, and went out without another
+word.
+
+The girl changed quickly, and surveyed herself in the pier glass at the
+end of the room. It was striking but horrible. There came a tap at the
+door and the agitated Maria entered.
+
+"He has sent for you, my little dove," she said. "Come, take my arm. Do
+not tremble, my little pretty. Boolba is a good man and the greatest man
+in Moscow."
+
+She would have taken the girl's arm, but Irene waved her aside, and
+walked swiftly from the drawing-room into the grand saloon. She wanted
+the ordeal over as soon as possible.
+
+The room was crowded, and though many of the electric lamps in the great
+glass chandelier were not in working order and a broken fuse had put
+half the wall brackets in darkness, the light was almost dazzling. This
+wonderful saloon, where ten Czars had eaten bread and salt with ten
+generations of Yaroslavs, was thick with humanity. Some of the men were
+in uniform, some were in a nondescript costume which was the Soviet
+compromise between evening-dress and diplomatic uniform. One man wore a
+correct evening-jacket and a white waistcoat with a perfectly starched
+shirt, over uniform trousers and top-boots. The women were as weirdly
+clothed. Some were shabby to the point of rags, a few wore court dresses
+of the approved pattern, and there was one woman dressed like a man, who
+smoked all the time. The air was blue with tobacco smoke and buzzing
+with sound.
+
+As she came into the saloon somebody shouted her name, and there was
+vigorous applause, not for her, she knew, nor for the name she bore, but
+for the novelty and the "beauty" of her wedding gown.
+
+At the farther end of the room was a table covered with a red cloth, and
+behind it sat a man in evening-dress, whom she recognized as one of the
+newly-appointed magistrates of the city. Nudged behind by Maria, she
+made her way through the press of people, whose admiring comments were
+spoken loud enough for her to hear.
+
+"What a little beauty! Too good for a blind man, eh?"
+
+"We have knelt for her many times, now she shall kneel for us."
+
+"Such a dress! This Boolba is a wonderful fellow."
+
+She halted before the table, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.
+Her head was high, and she met every glance steadily and disdainfully.
+
+The clock struck a quarter after ten when Boolba made his entrance
+amidst a storm of applause.
+
+They had never seen him in such a uniform before. Some thought it was a
+new costume which had been sanctioned by the supreme Soviet for its
+Commissaries; others that it had been planned especially for the
+marriage. Irene alone knew it, and a cold, disdainful smile lit for a
+moment her expressionless face.
+
+She had seen Boolba in knee-breeches and white silk stockings before;
+she knew the coat of green and gold which the retainers of the house of
+Yaroslav wore on state occasions. Boolba was marrying her in his
+butler's livery--a delicate piece of vengeance.
+
+The ceremony was short, and, to the girl, unreal. Religious marriages,
+though they had not altogether been banned, were regarded by the
+official Russia as unnecessary, and a new marriage service had been
+designed, which confined the ceremony to the space of a few minutes. The
+attempts to abolish marriage altogether had been strenuously opposed,
+not so much by the public women who were on the innumerable councils and
+committees, but by the wives of the more important members of the
+organization.
+
+Boolba was led to her side, and reached out his hand gropingly, and in
+very pity of his blindness she took it. Questions were asked him, to
+which he responded and similar questions were asked her, to which she
+made no reply. The whole ceremony was a farce, and she had agreed to it
+only because it gave her a little extra time, and every minute counted.
+From the moment the magistrate pronounced the formula which made them,
+in the eyes of the Soviet law at any rate, man and wife, Boolba never
+loosened his hold of her.
+
+He held her hand in his own big, hot palm, until it was wet and her
+fingers lost all feeling. From group to group they moved, and when they
+crossed the dancing space of the saloon, the revellers stepped aside to
+allow the man to pass. She noticed that in the main they confined
+themselves to country dances, some of which were new to her. And all the
+time Boolba kept up a continuous conversation in an undertone, pinching
+her hand gently whenever he wanted to attract her attention.
+
+"Tell me, my new eyes, my little pigeon of God, what are they doing now?
+Do you see Mishka Gurki? She is a silly woman. Tell me, my little pet,
+if you see her. Watch her well, and tell me how she looks at me. That
+woman is an enemy of the Revolution and a friend of Sophia Kensky....
+Ah! it is sad about your poor friends."
+
+The girl turned cold and clenched her teeth to take the news which was
+coming.
+
+"They tried to escape and they were shot down by our brave guard. I
+would have pardoned them for your sake, all but the thief, who broke
+the jaw of comrade Alex Alexandroff. Yes, I would have pardoned them
+to-night, because I am happy. Else they would have died with Sophia
+Kensky in the morning.... Do I not please you, that I put away this
+woman, who was my eyes and saw for me--all for your sake, my little
+pigeon, all for your sake!... Do you see a big man with one eye? He has
+half my misfortune, yet he sees a million times more than Boolba! That
+is the butcher Kreml--some day he shall see the Kreml[A]," he
+chuckled.... "Why do you not speak, my darling little mama? Are you
+thinking of the days when I was Boolba the slave? Na, na, _stoi_! Think
+of to-day, to-night, my little child of Jesus!"
+
+There were times when she could have screamed, moments of madness when
+she longed to pick up one of the champagne bottles which littered the
+floor, and at intervals were thrown with a crash into a corner of the
+room, and strike him across that great brutal face. There were times
+when she was physically sick and the room spun round and round and she
+would have fallen but for the man's arm. But the hour she dreaded most
+of all came at last, when, one by one, with coarse jests at her
+expense, the motley company melted away and left her alone with the
+man.
+
+"They have all gone?" he asked eagerly. "Every one?"
+
+He clutched more tightly.
+
+"To my room. We have a supper for ourselves. They are pigs, all these
+fellows, my little beautiful."
+
+The old carpet was still on the stairs, she noticed dully. Up above used
+to be her own room, at the far end of the long passage. She had a piano
+there once. She wondered whether it was still there. There used to be a
+servant at the head and at the foot of these stairs--a long,
+green-coated Cossack, to pass whom without authority was to court death.
+The room on the left had been her father's--two big saloons, separated
+by heavy silken curtains; his bureau was at one end, his bedroom at the
+other.
+
+It was into the bureau that the man groped his way. A table had been
+set, crowded with bottles and glasses, piled with fruit, sweetmeats, and
+at the end the inevitable samovar.
+
+"I will lock the door," said Boolba. "Now you shall kiss me on the eyes
+and on the mouth and on the cheeks, making the holy cross."
+
+She braced herself for the effort, and wrenched free. In a flash he came
+at her, and his hands caught the silken gown at the shoulder. She
+twisted under his arm, leaving a length of tattered and torn silk in
+his hand, and the marks of his finger-nails upon her white shoulder. He
+stopped and laughed--a low, gurgling laugh--and it was to the girl like
+the roar of some subterranean river heard from afar.
+
+"Oh, Highness," he mocked, "would you rob a blind man of his bride? Then
+let us be blind together!"
+
+He blundered to the door. There was a click, and the room was in
+darkness.
+
+"I am better than you now," he said. "I hear you in the dark; I can
+almost see you. You are by the corner of the table. Now you are pushing
+a chair. Little pigeon, come to me!"
+
+Whilst he was talking she was safe because she could locate him. It was
+when he was silent that she was filled with wild fear. He moved as
+softly as a cat, and it seemed that his boast of seeing in the dark was
+almost justified. Once his hand brushed her and she shrank back only
+just in time. The man was breathing heavily now, and the old, mocking
+terms of endearment had changed.
+
+"Come to me, Irene Yaroslav!" he roared. "Have I not often run to you?
+Have I not waited throughout the night to take your wraps and bring you
+coffee? Now you shall wait on me by Inokente! You shall be eyes and
+hands for me, and when I am tired of you, you shall go the way of Sophia
+Kensky."
+
+She was edging her way to the door. Once she could switch on the light
+she was safe, at any rate for the time being. There was a long silence,
+and, try as she did, she could not locate him. He must have been
+crouching near the door, anticipating her move, for as her hand fell on
+the switch and the lights sprang into being, he leapt at her. She saw
+him, but too late to avoid his whirling hands. In a second he had her in
+his arms. The man was half mad. He cursed and blessed her alternately,
+called her his little pigeon and his little devil in the same breath.
+She felt the tickle of his beard against her bare shoulder, and strove
+to push him off.
+
+"Come, my little peach," he said. "Who shall say that there is no
+justice in Russia, when Yaroslav's daughter is the bride of Boolba!"
+
+His back was to the curtain, and he was half lifting, half drawing her
+to the two grey strips which marked its division, when the girl
+screamed.
+
+"Again, again, my little dear," grinned Boolba. "That is fine music."
+
+But it was not her own danger which had provoked the cry. It was that
+vision, twice seen in her lifetime, of dead white hands, blue-veined,
+coming from the curtain and holding this time a scarlet cord.
+
+It was about Boolba's neck before he realized what had happened. With a
+strangled cry he released the girl, and she fell back again on the
+table, overturning it with a crash.
+
+"This way, Highness," said a hollow voice, and she darted through the
+curtains.
+
+She heard the shock of Boolba's body as it fell to the ground, and then
+Israel Kensky darted past her, flung open the door and pushed her
+through.
+
+"The servants' way," he said, and she ran to the narrow staircase which
+led below to the kitchen, and above to the attics in which the servants
+slept.
+
+Down the stairs, two at a time, she raced, the old man behind her. The
+stairway ended in a square hall. There was a door, half ajar, leading to
+the kitchen, which was filled with merrymakers, and a second door
+leading into the street, and this was also open. She knew the way
+blindfolded. They were in what had been the coach-yard of the Palace,
+and she knew there were half a dozen ways into the street. Israel chose
+the most unlikely, one which led again to the front of the house.
+
+A drosky was waiting, and into this he bundled her, jumping in by her
+side, holding her about the waist as the driver whipped up his two
+horses and sped through the deserted streets of Moscow.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[A] "Kreml" is literally Kremlin, one of the places of
+detention in Moscow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+
+Malcolm was the first to hear the sound of wheels on the roadway, and
+the party listened in silence till a low whistle sounded and their host
+darted out of the room.
+
+"What was that?" asked Malinkoff. "Somebody has come to the front door."
+
+A few minutes later Petroff staggered through the doorway, carrying the
+limp figure of Irene. It was Malcolm who took the girl in his arms and
+laid her upon the sofa.
+
+"She is not dead," said a voice behind him.
+
+He looked up; it was Israel Kensky. The old man looked white and ill. He
+took the glass of wine which Ivan brought him with a shaking hand, and
+wiped his beard as he looked down at the girl. There was neither
+friendliness nor pity in his glance, only the curious tranquillity which
+comes to the face of a man who has done that which he set out to do.
+
+"What of Boolba?" asked Petroff eagerly
+
+"I think he lives," said Kensky, and shook his head. "I am too weak and
+too old a man to have killed him. I put the cord about his neck and
+twisted it with a stick. If he can loosen the cord he will live; if he
+cannot, he will die. But I think he was too strong a man to die."
+
+"Did he know it was you?" asked Petroff.
+
+Kensky shook his head.
+
+"What is the hour?" he asked, and they told him that it was two o'clock.
+
+"Sophia Kensky dies at four," he said, in such a tone of unconcern that
+even Malinkoff stared at him.
+
+"It is right that she should die," said Kensky, and they marvelled that
+he, who had risked his life to save one of the class which had
+persecuted his people for hundreds of years, should speak in so
+matter-of-fact tones about the fate of his own blood. "She betrayed her
+race and her father. It is the old law of Israel, and it is a good law.
+I am going to sleep."
+
+"Is there a chance that you have been followed?" asked Malinkoff, and
+Kensky pulled at his beard thoughtfully.
+
+"I passed a watchman at the barricade, and he was awake--that is the
+only danger."
+
+He beckoned to Malcolm, and, loth as the young man was to leave the
+girl's side, now that she was showing some signs of recovering
+consciousness, he accompanied the old man from the room.
+
+"_Gospodar_," said Israel Kensky (it sounded strange to hear that old
+title), "once you carried a book for me."
+
+"I remember." Malcolm smiled in spite of himself.
+
+"'The Book of All-Power,'" repeated the Jew quietly. "It is in my room,
+and I shall ask you to repeat your service. That book I would give to
+the Grand Duchess, for I have neither kith nor child, and she has been
+kind to me."
+
+"But surely, Kensky," protested Malcolm, "you, as an intelligent man, do
+not believe in the potency of books or charms of incantations?"
+
+"I believe in the 'Book of All-Power,'" said Kensky calmly. "Remember,
+it is to become the property of the Grand Duchess Irene. I do not think
+I have long to live," he added. "How my death will come I cannot tell,
+but it is not far off. Will you go with me now and take the book?"
+
+Malcolm hesitated. He wanted to get back to the girl, but it would have
+been an ungracious act not to humour the old man, who had risked so much
+for the woman he loved. He climbed the stairs to the little bedroom, and
+waited at the door whilst Kensky went in. Presently the old man
+returned; the book was now stitched in a canvas wrapping, and Malcolm
+slipped the book into his pocket. The very act recalled another scene
+which had been acted a thousand miles away, and, it seemed, a million
+years ago.
+
+"Now let us go down," said Kensky.
+
+"Lord," he asked, as Malcolm's foot was on the stair, "do you love this
+young woman?"
+
+It would have been the sheerest affectation on his part to have evaded
+the question.
+
+"Yes, Israel Kensky," he replied, "I love her," and the old man bowed
+his head.
+
+"You are two Gentiles, and there is less difference in rank than in
+race," he said. "I think you will be happy. May the Gods of Jacob and of
+Abraham and of David rest upon you and prosper you. Amen!"
+
+Never had benediction been pronounced upon him that felt so real, or
+that brought such surprising comfort to the soul of Malcolm Hay. He felt
+as if, in that dingy stairway, he had received the very guerdon of
+manhood, and he went downstairs spiritually strengthened, and every
+doubt in his mind set at rest.
+
+The girl half rose from the couch as he came to her, and in her queer,
+impulsive way put out both her hands. Five minutes before he might have
+hesitated; he might have been content to feel the warmth of her palms
+upon his. But now he knelt down by her side, and, slipping one arm about
+her, drew her head to his shoulder. He heard the long-drawn sigh of
+happiness, he felt her arm creep about his neck, and he forgot the world
+and all the evil and menace it held: he forgot the grave Malinkoff, the
+interested Cherry Bim, still wearing his Derby hat on the back of his
+head, and girt about with the weapons of his profession. He forgot
+everything except that the world was worth living for. There lay in his
+arms a fragrant and a beautiful thing.
+
+It was Petroff who put an end to the little scene.
+
+"I have sent food into the wood for you," he said, "and my man has come
+back to tell me that your chauffeur is waiting by the car. He has all
+the petrol that he requires, and I do not think you should delay too
+long."
+
+The girl struggled to a sitting position, and looked with dismay at her
+scarlet bridal dress.
+
+"I cannot go like this," she said.
+
+"I have your trunk in the house, Highness," said Petroff, and the girl
+jumped up with a little cry of joy.
+
+"I had forgotten that," she said.
+
+She had forgotten also that she was still weak, for she swayed and would
+have stumbled, had not Malcolm caught her.
+
+"Go quickly, Highness," said Petroff urgently. "I do not think it would
+be safe to stay here--safe for you or for Kensky. I have sent one of my
+men on a bicycle to watch the Moscow road."
+
+"Is that necessary?" asked Malinkoff. "Are you suspect?"
+
+Petroff nodded.
+
+"If Boolba learns that Kensky passed this way, he will guess that it is
+to me that he came. I was in the service of the Grand Duke, and if it
+were not for the fact that a former workman of mine is now Assistant
+Minister of Justice in Petrograd, I should have been arrested long ago.
+If Boolba finds Israel Kensky here, or the Grand Duchess, nothing can
+save me. My only hope is to get you away before there is a search.
+Understand, little general," he said earnestly, "if you had not the car,
+I would take all risks and let you stay until you were found."
+
+"That seems unnecessary," said Malinkoff. "I quite agree. What do you
+say, Kensky?"
+
+The old man, who had followed Malcolm down the stairs, nodded.
+
+"I should have shot Boolba," he said thoughtfully, "but it would have
+made too much noise."
+
+"You should have used the knife, little father," said Petroff, but
+Kensky shook his head.
+
+"He wears chain armour under his clothes," he said. "All the
+commissaries do."
+
+Preparations for the journey were hurriedly made. The girl's trunk had
+proved a veritable storehouse, and she came down in a short tweed skirt
+and coat, her glorious hair hidden under a black tam o' shanter, and
+Malcolm could scarcely take his eyes from her.
+
+"You have a coat," said the practical Malinkoff. "That is good--you may
+need it."
+
+Crash!
+
+It was the sound of a rifle butt against the door which struck them
+dumb. Muffled by the thick wood, the voice of the knocker yet came
+clearly: "Open in the name of the Revolution!"
+
+Petroff blinked twice, and on his face was a look as though he could not
+believe his ears. The girl shrank to Malcolm's side, and Malinkoff
+stroked his beard softly. Only Cherry Bim seemed to realize the
+necessities of the moment, and he pulled both guns simultaneously and
+laid them noiselessly on the table before him.
+
+"Open in the name of the Revolution!"
+
+A hiss from Kensky brought them round. He beckoned them through the door
+by which they had made their original entry to the room, and pointed to
+the light. He gripped Petroff by the shoulder.
+
+"Upstairs to your bedroom, friend," he said. "Put on your night-shirt
+and talk to them through the window."
+
+Down the two passages they passed and came to the little door, which
+Kensky unchained and opened. He put his lips close to Malinkoff's ears.
+
+"Do you remember the way you came?" he asked, and the general nodded and
+led the way.
+
+Last but one came Cherry Bim, a '45 in each hand. There were no soldiers
+in view at the back of the house, but Malinkoff could hear their feet on
+some unknown outside road, and realized that the house was in process of
+being surrounded, and had the man who knocked at the door waited until
+this encirclement had been completed, there would have been no chance of
+escape.
+
+They struck the main road, and found the cart track leading to the wood,
+and none challenged them. There was no sound from the house, and
+apparently their flight had not been discovered.
+
+Kensky brought up the rear in spite of Cherry's frenzied injunctions,
+delivered in the four words of Russian which he knew, to get a move on.
+They had reached the fringe of the wood when the challenge came. Out of
+the shadow rode a horseman, and brought his charger across the path.
+
+"Halt!" he cried.
+
+The party halted, all except Cherry, who stepped from the path and
+moved swiftly forward, crouching low, to give the sentry no background.
+
+"Who is that?" asked the man on the horse. "Speak, or I'll fire!"
+
+He had unslung his carbine, and they heard the click of the bolt as the
+breech opened and closed.
+
+"We are friends, little father," said Malinkoff.
+
+"Give me your names," said the sentry, and Malinkoff recited with glib
+ease a list of Russian patronymics.
+
+"That is a lie," said the man calmly. "You are boorjoos--I can tell by
+your voices," and without further warning he fired into the thick of
+them.
+
+The second shot which came from the night followed so quickly upon the
+first that for the second time in like circumstances the girl thought
+only one had been fired. But the soldier on the horse swayed and slid to
+the earth before she knew what had happened.
+
+"Go right ahead," said the voice of Cherry Bim.
+
+He had caught the bridle of the frightened horse, and had drawn him
+aside. They quickened their steps and came up to the car, which the
+thoughtful chauffeur had already cranked up at the sound of the shots.
+
+"Where is Kensky?" asked Malcolm suddenly, "did you see him, Cherry?"
+
+A pause.
+
+"Why, no," said Cherry, "I didn't see him after the lamented tragedy."
+
+"We can't leave the old man," said Malcolm.
+
+"Wait," said the little gun-man. "I will go back and look for him."
+
+Five minutes, ten passed and still there was no sign or sound of Israel
+Kensky or of Cherry. Then a shot broke the stillness of the night, and
+another and another.
+
+"Two rifles and one revolver," said Malinkoff. "Get into the car,
+Highness. Are you ready, Peter?"
+
+There was another shot and then a fusillade. Then came slow footsteps
+along the cart track, and the sound of a man's windy breathing.
+
+"Take him, somebody," said Cherry.
+
+Malinkoff lifted the inanimate figure from Cherry's shoulder and carried
+him into the car. A voice from the darkness shouted a command, there was
+a flash of fire and the "zip" of a bullet.
+
+"Let her go, Percy," said Cherry, and blazed away with both guns into
+the darkness.
+
+He leapt for the footboard and made it by a miracle, and only once did
+they hear him cry as if in pain.
+
+"Are you hit?" asked Malcolm anxiously.
+
+"Naw!" drawled his voice jerkily, for the road hereabouts was full of
+holes, and even speech was as impossible as even riding. "Naw," he
+said. "I nearly lost my hat."
+
+He spoke only once again that night, except to refuse the offer to ride
+inside the car. He preferred the footboard, he said, and explained that
+as a youth it had been his ambition to be a fireman.
+
+"I wonder," he said suddenly, breaking the silence of nearly an hour.
+
+"What do you wonder?" asked Malinkoff, who sat nearest to the window,
+where Cherry stood.
+
+"I wonder what happened to that boy on the bicycle?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+ON THE ROAD
+
+
+Israel Kensky died at five o'clock in the morning. They had made a rough
+attempt to dress the wound in his shoulder, but, had they been the most
+skilful of surgeons with the best appliances which modern surgery had
+invented at their hands, they could not have saved his life. He died
+literally in the arms of Irene, and they buried him in a little forest
+on the edge of a sluggish stream, and Cherry Bim unconsciously delivered
+the funeral oration.
+
+"This poor old guy was a good fellow," he said. "I ain't got nothing on
+the Jews as a class, except their habit of prosperity, and that just
+gets the goat of people like me, who hate working for a living. He was
+straight and white, and that's all you can expect any man to be, or any
+woman either, with due respect to you, miss. If any of you gents would
+care to utter a few words of prayer, you'll get a patient hearing from
+me, because I am naturally a broad-minded man."
+
+It was the girl who knelt by the grave, the tears streaming down her
+cheeks, but what she said none heard. Cherry Bim, holding his hat crown
+outward across his breast, produced the kind of face which he thought
+adequate to the occasion; and, after the party had left the spot, he
+stayed behind. He rejoined them after a few minutes, and he was putting
+away his pocket-knife as he ran.
+
+"Sorry to keep you, ladies and gents," he said, "but I am a sentimental
+man in certain matters. I always have been and always shall be."
+
+"What were you doing?" asked Malcolm, as the car bumped along.
+
+Cherry Bim cleared his throat and seemed embarrassed.
+
+"Well, to tell you the truth," he said. "I made a little cross and stuck
+it over his head."
+
+"But----" began Malcolm, and the girl's hand closed his mouth.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Bim," she said. "It was very, very kind of you."
+
+"Nothing wrong, I hope?" asked Cherry in alarm.
+
+"Nothing wrong at all," said the girl gently.
+
+That cross over the grave of the Jew was to give them a day's respite.
+Israel Kensky had left behind him in the place where he fell a fur hat
+bearing his name. From the quantity of blood which the pursuers found,
+they knew that he must have been mortally wounded, and it was for a
+grave by the wayside that the pursuing party searched and found. It was
+the cross at his head which deceived them and led them to take the ford
+and try along the main road to the south of the river, on the banks of
+which Kensky slept his last dreamless sleep.
+
+The danger for the fugitives was evident.
+
+"The most we can hope," said Malinkoff, "is to escape detection for two
+days, after which we must abandon the car."
+
+"Which way do you suggest?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Poland or the Ukraine," replied the general quickly. "The law of the
+Moscow Soviet does not run in Little Russia or in Poland. We may get to
+Odessa, but obviously we cannot go much farther like this. I have--or
+had," he corrected himself, "an estate about seventy versts from here,
+and I think I can still depend upon some of my people--if there are any
+left alive. The car we must get rid of, but that, I think, will be a
+simple matter."
+
+They were now crossing a wide plain, which reminded Malcolm irresistibly
+of the steppes of the Ukraine, and apparently had recalled the same
+scene to Irene and Malinkoff. There was the same sweep of grass-land,
+the same riot of flowers; genista, cornflour and clover dabbled the
+green, and dwarf oaks and poverty-stricken birches stood in lonely
+patches.
+
+"Here is a Russia which the plough has never touched," said Malinkoff.
+"Does it not seem to you amazing that the Americans and British who go
+forth to seek new colonies, should lure our simple people to foreign
+countries, where the mode of living, the atmosphere, is altogether
+different from this, when here at their doors is a new land undiscovered
+and unexploited?"
+
+He broke off his homily to look out of the window of the car. He had
+done that at least a dozen times in the past half-hour.
+
+"We're going fairly fast," said Malcolm. "You do not think anything will
+overtake us?"
+
+"On the road--no," said Malinkoff, "but I am rather nervous crossing
+this plain, where there is practically no cover at all, and the car is
+raising clouds of dust."
+
+"Nervous of what?"
+
+"Aeroplanes," said Malinkoff. "Look, there is a pleasant little wood. I
+suggest that we get under cover until night falls. The next village is
+Truboisk, which is a large market centre and is certain to hold local
+officers of the Moscow Soviet."
+
+Both his apprehensions and his judgment were justified, for scarcely
+had the car crept into the cover of green boughs, than a big aeroplane
+was sighted. It was following the road and at hardly a hundred feet
+above them. It passed with a roar. They watched it until it was a speck
+in the sky.
+
+"They are taking a lot of trouble for a very little thing. Russia must
+be law-abiding if they turn their aeroplanes loose on a party of
+fugitive criminals!"
+
+"Boolba has told his story," said Malinkoff significantly. "By this time
+you are not only enemies of the Revolution, but you are accredited
+agents of capitalistic Governments. You have been sent here by your
+President to stir up the bourgeois to cast down the Government, because
+of British investments. Mr. Bim will be described as a secret service
+agent who has been employed to assassinate either Trotsky or Lenin. If
+you could only tap the official wireless," said Malinkoff, "you would
+learn that a serious counter-revolutionary plot has been discovered, and
+that American financiers are deeply involved. Unless, of course,"
+corrected Malinkoff, "America happens to be in favour in Petrograd, in
+which case it will be English financiers."
+
+Malcolm laughed.
+
+"Then we are an international incident?" he said.
+
+"You are an 'international incident,'" agreed Malinkoff gravely.
+
+Cherry Bim, sitting on the step, smoking a long cigar, a box of which
+Petroff had given him as a parting present--looked up, blowing out a
+blue cloud.
+
+"A secret service agent?" he said. "That's a sort of fly cop, isn't it?"
+
+"That's about it, Cherry," replied Malcolm.
+
+"And do you think they'll call me a fly cop?" said the interested
+Cherry.
+
+Malinkoff nodded, and the gun-man chewed on his cigar.
+
+"Time brings its revenges, don't it?" he said. "Never, oh never, did I
+think that I should be took for a fellow from the Central Office! It
+only shows you that if a guy continues on the broad path that leadeth to
+destruction, and only goes enough, he'll find Mrs. Nemesis--I think
+that's the name of the dame."
+
+Malinkoff strolled to the edge of the wood and came back hurriedly.
+
+"The aeroplane is returning," he said, "and is accompanied by another."
+
+This time neither machine took the direct route. They were sweeping the
+country methodically from side to side, and Malinkoff particularly
+noticed that they circled about a smaller wood two miles away and seemed
+loth to leave it.
+
+"What colour is the top of this car?" he asked, and Bim climbed up.
+
+"White," he said. "Is there time to put on a little of this 'camelflage'
+I've heard so much about?"
+
+The party set to work in haste to tear down small branches of trees and
+scraps of bushes, and heap them on to the top of the car. Cherry Bim,
+who had the instinct of deception, superintending the actual masking of
+the roof, and as the sun was now setting detected a new danger.
+
+"Let all the windows down," said Cherry. "Put a coat over the glass
+screen and sit on anything that shines."
+
+They heard the roar of the aeroplane coming nearer and crouched against
+the trunk of a tree. Suddenly there was a deafening explosion which
+stunned the girl and threw her against Malcolm. She half-rose to run but
+he pulled her down.
+
+"What was it?" she whispered.
+
+"A small bomb," said Malcolm. "It is an old trick of airmen when they
+are searching woods for concealed bodies of infantry. Somebody is bound
+to run out and give the others away."
+
+Cherry Bim, fondling his long Colt, was looking glumly at the cloud of
+smoke which was billowing forth from the place where the bomb had
+dropped. Round and round circled the aeroplane, but presently, as if
+satisfied with its scrutiny, it made off, and the drone of the engine
+grew fainter and fainter.
+
+"War's hell," said Cherry, wiping his pallid face with a hand that
+shook.
+
+"I can't quite understand it," said Malinkoff. "Even supposing that
+Boolba has told his story, there seems to be a special reason for this
+urgent search. They would, of course, have communicated----"
+
+He fell silent.
+
+"Has Boolba any special reasons, other than those we know?" he asked.
+
+Malcolm remembered the "Book of All-Power" and nodded.
+
+"Have you something of Kensky's?" asked Malinkoff quickly. "Not that
+infernal book?"
+
+He looked so anxious that Malcolm laughed.
+
+"Yes, I have that infernal book. As a matter of fact, it is the infernal
+book of the Grand Duchess now."
+
+"Mine?" she said in surprise.
+
+"Kensky's last words to me were that this book should become your
+property," said Malcolm, and she shivered.
+
+"All my life seems to have been associated with the search for that
+dreadful book," she said. "I wonder if it is one of Kensky's own
+binding. You know," she went on, "that Israel Kensky bound books for a
+hobby? He bound six for me, and they were most beautifully decorated."
+
+"He was a rich man, was he not?" asked Malcolm.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"He was penniless when he died," she said quietly. "Every store of his
+was confiscated and his money was seized by order of the new Government.
+I once asked him definitely why he did not turn to his 'Book of
+All-Power' for help. He told me the time had not yet come."
+
+"May I see the book?"
+
+Malcolm took the volume with its canvas cover from his pocket, and the
+girl looked at it seriously.
+
+"Do you know, I have half a mind to throw it into the fire?" she said,
+pointing to the smouldering wood where the bomb had fallen. "There seems
+something sinister, something ominous about its possession that fills me
+with terror."
+
+She looked at it for a moment musingly, then handed it back to Malcolm.
+
+"Poor Israel!" she said softly, "and poor Russia!"
+
+They waited until darkness fell before they moved on. Malinkoff had an
+idea that there was a crossroad before the town was reached, and
+progress was slow in consequence, because he was afraid of passing it.
+He was determined now not to go through the village, which lay directly
+ahead. The fact that the aeroplane had been able to procure a recruit,
+pointed to the existence of a camp of considerable dimensions in the
+neighbourhood and he was anxious to keep away from armed authority.
+
+It was a tense hour they spent--tense for all except Cherry Bim, who had
+improvised a cushion on the baggage carrier at the back of the car, and
+had affixed himself so that he could doze without falling off. The side
+road did not appear, and Malinkoff grew more and more apprehensive.
+There were no lights ahead, as there should be if he were approaching
+the village. Once he thought he saw dark figures crouching close to the
+ground as the car passed, but put this down to nerves. Five hundred
+yards beyond, he discovered that his eyes had not deceived him. A red
+light appeared in the centre of the road, and against the skyline--for
+they were ascending a little incline at the moment--a number of dark
+figures sprang into view.
+
+The chauffeur brought the car to a halt with a jerk, only just in time,
+for his lamps jarred against the pole which had been placed across the
+road.
+
+Malcolm had drawn his revolver, but the odds were too heavy, besides
+which, in bringing his car to a standstill, the driver had shut off his
+engine and the last hope of bunking through had disappeared.
+
+A man carrying a red lamp came to the side of the car, and flashed the
+light of a torch over the occupants.
+
+"One, two, three, four," he counted. "There should be five."
+
+He peered at them separately.
+
+"This is the aristocrat general, this is the American revolutionary,
+this is the woman. There is also a criminal. Did any man jump out?" he
+asked somebody in the darkness, and there was a chorus of "No!"
+
+Footsteps were coming along the road; the guard which had been waiting
+to close them in from the rear, was now coming up. The man with the
+lamp, who appeared to be an officer, made a circuit of the car and
+discovered the carrier seat, but its occupant had vanished.
+
+"There was a man here, you fools," he shouted. "Search the road; he
+cannot have gone far. Look!"
+
+He put the light on the road.
+
+"There are his boots. You will find him amongst the bushes. Search
+quickly."
+
+Malcolm, at the girl's side, put his arm about her shoulder.
+
+"You are not afraid?" he said gently, and she shook her head.
+
+"I do not think I shall ever be afraid again," she replied. "I have
+faith in God, my dear. Cherry has escaped?" she asked.
+
+"I think so," he replied in a guarded tone. "He must have seen the
+soldiers and jumped. They have just found his boots in the roadway."
+
+The officer came back at that moment.
+
+"You have weapons," he said. "Give them to me."
+
+It would have been madness to disobey the order, and Malcolm handed over
+his revolver and Malinkoff followed suit. Not satisfied with this, the
+man turned them out in the road whilst he conducted a search.
+
+"Get back," he said after this was over. "You must go before the
+Commissary for judgment. The woman is required in Moscow, but we shall
+deal summarily with the foreigner and Malinkoff, also the little thief,
+when we find him."
+
+He addressed the chauffeur.
+
+"I shall sit by your side, and if you do not carry out my instructions I
+shall shoot you through the head, little pigeon," he said. "Get down and
+start your machine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE MONASTERY OF ST. BASIL THE LEPER
+
+
+He gave an order to the soldiers, and the barrier was removed, then he
+struck a match and lit a flare which burnt a dazzling red flame for half
+a minute.
+
+"A signal," said Malinkoff, "probably to notify our capture."
+
+A few minutes later, with a soldier on either footboard, and the officer
+sitting beside the chauffeur, the car sped through the night, checking
+only before it came to the cross-roads which Malinkoff had sought for.
+Turning to the left, the car swung into a road narrower and less
+comfortable for the passengers.
+
+"I wonder if they will catch our brave friend," said the girl.
+
+"They will be sorry if they do," replied Malcolm dryly. "Cherry will not
+be caught as we were."
+
+Ahead of them and to the right apparently, on a hill by their height, a
+dozen fires were burning, and Malinkoff judged that the camp they were
+approaching was one of considerable size. He guessed it was a
+concentration camp where the Reds were preparing for their periodical
+offensive against the Ukraine. It must be somewhere in this district
+that the Polish Commissioners were negotiating with the Supreme
+Government--an event which had set Moscow agog.
+
+An eerie experience this, riding through the dark, the figures of the
+soldier guards on either footboard gripping to the posts of the car.
+Bump, bump, bump it went, swaying and jolting, and then one of the
+guards fell off. They expected him to jump on the footboard again, for
+the auto was going at a slow pace, but to their surprise he did not
+reappear. Then a similar accident happened to the man on the other
+footboard. He suddenly let go his hold and fell backwards.
+
+"What on earth----" said Malcolm.
+
+"Look, look!" whispered the girl.
+
+A foot and a leg had appeared opposite the window, and it came from the
+roof of the car. Then another foot, and the bulk of a body against the
+night.
+
+"It's Cherry!" whispered the girl.
+
+Swiftly he passed the window and came to the side of the officer, whose
+head was turned to the chauffeur.
+
+"Russki," said Cherry, "_stoi_!"
+
+"Stop!" was one of the four Russian words he knew, and the chauffeur
+obeyed, just at the moment when the car came to where the road split
+into two, one running to the right and apparently to the camp, the other
+and the older road dipping down to a misty valley.
+
+The Red officer saw the gun under his nose and took intelligent action.
+His two hands went up and his revolver fell with a clatter at the
+chauffeur's feet. Deftly Cherry relieved him of the remainder of his
+arms.
+
+By this time Malcolm was out of the car, and a brief council of war was
+held.
+
+To leave the man there would be to ask for trouble. To shoot him was
+repugnant even to Cherry, who had constituted himself the official
+assassin of the party.
+
+"We shall have to take him along," said Malinkoff. "There are plenty of
+places where we can leave him in the night, and so long as he does not
+know which way we go, I do not think he can do us any harm."
+
+The Red officer took his misfortune with the philosophy which the
+chauffeur had displayed in similar circumstances.
+
+"I have no malice, little general," he said. "I carry out my orders as a
+soldier should. For my part I would as soon cry 'Long live the Czar!'
+as 'Long live the Revolution!' If you are leaving Russia I shall be
+glad to go with you, and I may be of service because I know all the
+latest plans for arresting you. There is a barrier on every road, even
+on this which you are taking now, unless," he added thoughtfully, "it is
+removed for the Commissary Boolba."
+
+"Is he coming this way?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"You saw me fire a flare," said the man. "That was a signal to the camp
+that you were captured. The news will be telegraphed to Moscow, and
+Boolba will come to sentence the men and take back his wife."
+
+He evidently spoke in the terms of his instructions.
+
+"What road will he take, little soldier?" asked Malinkoff.
+
+"The Tver road," said the man. "It is the direct road from Moscow, and
+we shall cross it very quickly. At the crossing are four soldiers and an
+under officer, but no barricade. If you will direct me I will tell them
+a lie and say that we go to meet Boolba."
+
+"We're in his hands to some extent," said Malinkoff, "and my advice is
+that we accept his offer. He is not likely to betray us."
+
+The car resumed its journey, and Cherry, who had taken his place inside,
+explained the miracle which had happened.
+
+"I saw the first lot of soldiers we passed," he said, "and when the car
+stopped suddenly I knew what had happened. I took off my boots and
+climbed on to the roof. I only made it just in time. The rest was like
+eating pie."
+
+"You didn't shoot the soldiers who were standing on the footboard, did
+you?" asked Malcolm. "I heard no shots."
+
+Cherry shook his head.
+
+"Why shoot 'em?" he said. "I had only to lean over and hit 'em on the
+bean with the butt end of my gun, and it was a case of 'Where am I,
+nurse?'"
+
+Half an hour's drive brought them to the cross-roads, and the four
+apathetic sentries who, at the word of the Red officer, stood aside to
+allow the car to pass. They were now doubling back on their tracks,
+running parallel with the railroad (according to Malinkoff) which, if
+the officer's surmise was accurate, was the one on which Boolba was
+rushing by train to meet them. So far their auto had given them no
+trouble, but twenty miles from the camp both the front tyres punctured
+simultaneously. This might have been unimportant, for they carried two
+spare wheels, only it was discovered that one of these was also
+punctured and had evidently been taken out of use the day on which they
+secured the car. There was nothing to do but to push the machine into a
+field, darken the windows and allow the chauffeur to make his repairs on
+the least damaged of the tubes. They shut him into the interior of the
+car with the Red officer who volunteered his help, furnished him with a
+lamp, and walked down the road in the faint hope of discovering some
+cottage or farm where they could replenish their meagre store of food.
+
+Half an hour's walking brought them to a straggling building which they
+approached with caution.
+
+"It is too large for a farm," said Malinkoff; "it is probably one of
+those monasteries which exist in such numbers in the Moscow Government."
+
+The place was in darkness and it was a long time before they found the
+entrance, which proved to be through a small chapel, sited in one corner
+of the walled enclosure. The windows of the chapel were high up, but
+Malcolm thought he detected a faint glow of light in the interior, and
+it was this flicker which guided them to the chapel. The door was half
+open, and Malinkoff walked boldly in. The building, though small, was
+beautiful. Green malachite columns held up the groined roof, and the
+walls were white with the deadly whiteness of alabaster. A tiny altar,
+on which burnt the conventional three candles, fronted them as they
+entered, and the screen glittered with gold. A priest knelt before the
+altar, singing in a thin, cracked voice, so unmusically that the girl
+winced. Save for the priest and the party, the building was empty.
+
+He rose at the sound of their footsteps, and stood waiting their
+approach. He was a young and singularly ugly man, and suspicion and fear
+were written plainly on his face.
+
+"God save you, little brother of saints!" said Malinkoff.
+
+"God save you, my son!" replied the priest mechanically. "What is it you
+want?"
+
+"We need food and rest for this little lady, also hot coffee, and we
+will pay well."
+
+Malinkoff knew that this latter argument was necessary. The priest shook
+his head.
+
+"All the brethren have gone away from the monastery except Father
+Joachim, who is a timid man, Father Nicholas and myself," he said. "We
+have very little food and none to spare. They have eaten everything we
+had, and have killed my pretty chickens."
+
+He did not say who "they" were, and Malinkoff was not sufficiently
+curious to inquire. He knew that the priests were no longer the power in
+the land that they were in the old days, and that there had been
+innumerable cases where the villagers had risen and slaughtered the men
+whose words hitherto had been as a law to them. A third of the
+monasteries in the Moscow Government had been sacked and burnt, and
+their congregations and officers dispersed.
+
+He was surprised to find this beautiful chapel still intact, but he had
+not failed to notice the absence of the sacred vessels which usually
+adorned the altar, even in the midnight celebration.
+
+"But can you do nothing for our little mama?" asked Malinkoff.
+
+The priest shook his head.
+
+"Our guests have taken everything," he said. "They have even turned
+Brother Joachim from the refectory."
+
+"Your guests?" said Malinkoff.
+
+The priest nodded.
+
+"It is a great prince," he said in awe. "Terrible things are happening
+in the world, Antichrist is abroad, but we know little of such things in
+the monastery. The peasants have been naughty and have broken down our
+wall, slain our martyred brother Mathias--we could not find his body,"
+he added quickly, "and Brother Joachim thinks that the Jews have eaten
+him so that by the consecrated holiness of his flesh they might avert
+their eternal damnation."
+
+"Who is your prince?" asked Malcolm, hope springing in his breast.
+
+There were still powerful factions in Russia which were grouped about
+the representatives and relatives of the late reigning house.
+
+"I do not know his name," said the priest, "but I will lead you to him.
+Perhaps he has food."
+
+He extinguished two of the candles on the altar, crossing himself all
+the while he was performing this ceremony, then led them through the
+screen and out at the back of the chapel. Malcolm thought he saw a face
+peering round the door as they approached it, and the shadow of a flying
+form crossing the dark yard. Possibly the timid Father Joachim he
+thought. Running along the wall was a low-roofed building.
+
+"We are a simple order," said the priest, "and we live simply."
+
+He had taken a candle lantern before he left the chapel, and this he
+held up to give them a better view. Narrow half-doors, the tops being
+absent, were set in the face of the building at intervals.
+
+"Look!" he said, and pushed the lamp into the black void.
+
+"A stable?" said Malinkoff.
+
+He might have added: "a particularly draughty and unpleasant stable."
+There were straw-filled mangers and straw littered the floor.
+
+"Do you keep many horses?"
+
+The priest shook his head.
+
+"Here we sleep," he said, "as directed in a vision granted to our most
+blessed saint and founder, St. Basil the Leper. For to him came an angel
+in the night, saying these words: 'Why sleepest thou in a fine bed when
+our Lord slept lowly in a stable?'"
+
+He led the way across the yard to a larger building.
+
+"His lordship may not wish to be disturbed, and if he is asleep I will
+not wake him."
+
+"How long has he been here?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Since morning," repeated the other.
+
+They were in a stone hall, and the priest hesitated. Then he opened the
+door cautiously, and peeped in. The room was well illuminated; they
+could see the hanging kerosene lamps from where they stood.
+
+"Come," said the priest's voice in a whisper, "he is awake."
+
+Malcolm went first. The room, though bare, looked bright and warm; a big
+wood fire blazed in an open hearth, and before it stood a man dressed in
+a long blue military coat, his hands thrust into his pockets. The hood
+of the coat was drawn over his head, and his attitude was one of
+contemplation. Malcolm approached him.
+
+"Excellenz," he began, "we are travellers who desire----"
+
+Slowly the man turned.
+
+"Oh, you 'desire'!" he bellowed. "What do you desire, Comrade Hay? I
+will tell you what _I_ desire--my beautiful little lamb, my pretty
+little wife!"
+
+It was Boolba.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE END OF BOOLBA
+
+
+Cherry Bim, the last of the party to enter the room, made a dash for the
+door, and came face to face with the levelled rifle held in the hands of
+a soldier who had evidently been waiting the summons of Boolba's shout.
+Behind him were three other men. Cherry dropped to the ground as the
+man's rifle went off, shooting as he fell, and the man tumbled down.
+Scrambling to his feet, he burst through the doorway like a human cannon
+ball, but not even his nimble guns could save him this time. The hall
+was full of soldiers, and they bore him down by sheer weight.
+
+They dragged him into the refectory, bleeding, and the diversion at any
+rate had had one good effect. Only Boolba was there, roaring and raging,
+groping a swift way round the walls, one hand searching, the other
+guiding.
+
+"Where are they?" he bellowed. "Come to me, my little beauty. Hay! I
+will burn alive. Where are they?"
+
+"Little Commissary," said the leader of the soldiers, "she is not here.
+They did not pass out."
+
+"Search, search!" shouted Boolba, striking at the man. "Search, you
+pig!"
+
+"We have the other boorjoo," stammered the man.
+
+"Search!" yelled Boolba. "There is a door near the fire--is it open?"
+
+The door lay in the shadow, and the man ran to look.
+
+"It is open, comrade," he said.
+
+"After them, after them!"
+
+Boolba howled the words, and in terror they left their prisoner and
+flocked out of the door. Cherry stood in the centre of the room, his
+hands strapped behind his back, his shirt half ripped from his body, and
+looked up into the big blinded face which came peering towards him as
+though, by an effort of will, it could glimpse his enemy.
+
+"You are there?"
+
+Boolba's hands passed lightly over the gun-man's face, fell upon his
+shoulders, slipped down the arm.
+
+"Is this the thief? Yes, yes; this is the thief. What is he doing?"
+
+He turned, not knowing that the soldiers had left him alone, and again
+his hands passed lightly over Cherry's face.
+
+"This is good," he said, as he felt the bands on the wrists.
+"To-morrow, little brother, you will be dead."
+
+He might have spared himself his exercise and his reproaches, because to
+Cherry Bim's untutored ear his reviling was a mere jabber of meaningless
+words. Cherry was looking round to find something sharp enough on which
+to cut the strap which bound him, but there was nothing that looked like
+a knife in the room. He knew he had a minute, and probably less, to make
+his escape. His eyes rested for a moment on the holster at Boolba's
+belt, and he side-stepped.
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+Boolba's heavy hand rested on his shoulder.
+
+"Not out of the doorway, my little pigeon. I am blind, but----"
+
+So far he had got when Cherry turned in a flash, so that his back was
+toward Boolba. He stooped, and made a sudden dash backward, colliding
+with the Commissary, and in that second his hand had gripped the gun at
+Boolba's waist. There was a strap across the butt, but it broke with a
+jerk.
+
+Then followed a duel without parallel. Boolba pulled his second gun and
+fired, and, shooting as blindly, Cherry fired backward. He heard a groan
+over his shoulder and saw Boolba fall to his knees. Then he ran for the
+main door, stumbled past the state-bedroom of the monks, and into the
+chapel. It was his one chance that the priest had returned to his
+devotions, and he found the man on his knees.
+
+"Percy," said Cherry, "unfasten that strap."
+
+The priest understood no language but his own. But a gesture, the strap
+about the wrists, blue and swollen, and the long revolver, needed no
+explanation. The strap fell off and Cherry rubbed his wrists.
+
+He opened the breech of his gun; he had four shells left, but he was
+alone against at least twenty men. He guessed that Boolba had made the
+monastery his advance headquarters whilst he was waiting for news of the
+fugitives, and probably not twenty but two hundred were within call.
+
+He reached the road and made for the place where the car had been left.
+If the others had escaped they also would go in that direction. He saw
+no guard or sentry, and heard no sound from the walled enclosure of the
+monastery. He struck against something in the roadway and stooped and
+picked it up. It was stitched in a canvas cover and it felt like a book.
+He suddenly remembered the scraps of conversation he had overheard
+between the girl and Malcolm.
+
+This, then, was the "Book of All-Power."
+
+"Foolishness," said Cherry, and put it in his pocket. But the book
+showed one thing clearly--the others had got away. He had marked the
+place where they had stopped, but the car was gone!
+
+It was too dark to see the tracks, but there was no question that it had
+been here, for he found an empty petrol tin and the still air reeked of
+rubber solution.
+
+He had need of all his philosophy. He was in an unknown country, a
+fugitive from justice, and that country was teeming with soldiers. Every
+road was watched, and he had four cartridges between him and capture.
+There was only one thing to do, and that was to go back the way the car
+had come, and he stepped out undauntedly, halting now and again to stoop
+and look along the railway line, for he was enough of an old campaigner
+to know how to secure a skyline.
+
+Then in the distance he saw a regular line of lights, and those lights
+were moving. It was a railway train, and apparently it was turning a
+curve, for one by one the lights disappeared and only one flicker, which
+he judged was on the engine, was visible. He bent down again and saw the
+level horizon of a railway embankment less than two hundred yards on his
+left, and remembered that Malinkoff had spoken of the Warsaw line.
+
+He ran at full speed, floundering into pools, breaking through bushes,
+and finally scrambled up the steep embankment. How to board the train
+seemed a problem which was insuperable, if the cars were moving at any
+speed. There was little foothold by the side of the track, and
+undoubtedly the train was moving quickly, for now the noise of it was a
+dull roar, and he, who was not wholly unacquainted with certain
+unauthorized forms of travel, could judge to within a mile an hour the
+rate it was travelling.
+
+He fumbled in his pocket and found a match. There was no means of making
+a bonfire. The undergrowth was wet, and he had not so much as a piece of
+paper in his pocket.
+
+"The book!"
+
+He pulled it out, ripped off the canvas cover with his knife, and tried
+to open it. The book was locked, he discovered, but locks were to Cherry
+like pie-crusts--made to be broken. A wrench and the covers fell apart.
+
+He tore out the first three or four pages, struck the match, and the
+flame was touching the corner of the paper when his eyes fell upon the
+printed words. He stood open-mouthed, the flame still burning, gazing at
+the torn leaf until the burning match touched his finger and he dropped
+it.
+
+Torn between doubts, and dazed as he was, the train might have passed
+him, but the light of a match in the still, dark night could be seen for
+miles, and he heard the jar of the brakes. He pushed the book and the
+loose leaves into his pocket and ran along the embankment to meet the
+slowing special--for special it was.
+
+He managed to pass the engine unnoticed, then, crouching down until the
+last carriage was abreast, he leapt up, caught the rail and swung
+himself on to the rear footboard, up the steel plates which serve as
+steps, to the roof of the carriage, just as the train stopped.
+
+There were excited voices demanding explanations, there was a confusion
+of orders, and presently the train moved on, gathering speed, and Cherry
+had time to think. It was still dark when they ran into a little
+junction, and, peeping over the side, he saw a group of officers descend
+from a carriage to stretch their legs. To them came a voluble and
+gesticulating railway official, and again there was a confusion of
+voices. He was telling them something and his tone was apologetic,
+almost fearful. Then, to Cherry's amazement, he heard somebody speak in
+English. It was the voice of a stranger, a drawling English voice.
+
+"Oh, I say! Let them come on, general! I wouldn't leave a dog in this
+country--really I wouldn't."
+
+"But it is against all the rules of diplomacy," said a gruffer voice in
+the same language.
+
+"Moses!" gasped Cherry.
+
+The road led into the station-yard and he had seen the car. There was no
+doubt of it. The lights from one of the train windows were sufficiently
+strong to reveal it, and behind the stationmaster was another little
+group in the shadow.
+
+"It is a matter of life and death." It was Malcolm's voice. "I must get
+this lady to the Polish frontier--it is an act of humanity I ask."
+
+"English, eh?" said the man called the general. "Get on board."
+
+Malcolm took the girl in his arms before them all.
+
+"Go, darling," he said gently.
+
+"I cannot go without you," she said, but he shook his head.
+
+"Malinkoff and I must wait. We cannot leave Cherry. We are going back to
+find him. I am certain he has escaped."
+
+"I will not leave without you," she said firmly.
+
+"You'll all have to come or all have to stay," said the Englishman
+briskly. "We haven't any time to spare, and the train is now going on.
+You see," he said apologetically, "it isn't our train at all, it belongs
+to the Polish Commission, and we're only running the food end of the
+negotiations. We have been fixing up terms between the Red Army and the
+Poles, and it is very irregular that we should take refugees from the
+country at all."
+
+"_Go!_"
+
+Malcolm heard the hoarse whisper, and it was as much as he could do to
+stop himself looking up. He remembered the motor-car and Cherry's
+mysterious and providential appearance from the roof, and he could guess
+the rest.
+
+"Very well, we will go. Come, Malinkoff, I will explain in the car,"
+said Malcolm.
+
+They lifted the girl into the carriage and the men followed. A shriek
+from the engine, a jerk of the cars, and the train moved on. Before the
+rear carriage had cleared the platform a car rocked into the
+station-yard, dashing through the frail wooden fencing on to the
+platform itself.
+
+"_Stoi! Stoi!_"
+
+Boolba stood up in the big touring car, his arms outstretched, the white
+bandage about his neck showing clearly in the car lights. Cherry Bim
+rose to his knees and steadied himself. Once, twice, three times he
+fired, and Boolba pitched over the side of the car dead.
+
+"I had a feeling that we should meet again," said Cherry. "That's not a
+bad gun."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THE LAST
+
+
+"All my life," said Cherry Bim, fondling his Derby hat affectionately,
+"I have been what is called by night-court reporters a human parricide."
+
+He occupied a corner seat in the first-class compartment which had been
+placed at the disposal of the party. To the Peace Commissioners in their
+saloon the fugitives had no existence. Officially they were not on the
+train, and the hot meal which came back to them from the Commissioner's
+own kitchenette was officially sent to "extra train-men," and was
+entered as such on the books of the chef.
+
+The girl smiled. There was cause for happiness, for these dreary flats
+which were passing the window were the flats of Poland.
+
+"I have often thought, Mr. Bim, that you were a human angel!"
+
+Cherry beamed.
+
+"Why, that's what I was named after," he said. "Ain't you heard of the
+Cherry Bims? My sister Sarah was named the same way--you've heard of
+Sarah Bims?"
+
+"Seraphims," laughed Malcolm; "true, it's near enough. But why this
+dissertation on your moral character, Cherry?"
+
+"I'm only remarking," said Cherry, "I wouldn't like you gu--fellers to
+go away thinkin' that high-class female society hadn't brought about a
+change in what I would describe, for want of a better word, as my
+outlook."
+
+"All our outlooks have been shaken up," said the girl, laying her hand
+on Cherry's arm.
+
+"I am a Grand Duchess of Russia and you are--you are----"
+
+"Yes, I'm that," said Cherry, helping her out. "I'm one of nature's
+extractors. But I'm through. I hate the idea of workin' and maybe I
+won't have to, because I've got enough of the--well, any way, I've got
+enough."
+
+Malcolm slapped him on the knee.
+
+"You've brought more from Russia than we have, Cherry," he said.
+
+"But not the greatest prize." It was the silent Malinkoff who spoke.
+"Highness, is there no way of recovering your father's fortune?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"It is gone," she said quietly, "and if Russia were pacified to-morrow I
+should be poor--you know that, Malcolm!"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"I have not even," she smiled, "poor Israel Kensky's wonderful book."
+
+"I was a careless fool," growled Malcolm, "when we struck the road I was
+so intent upon getting to the auto that I did not realize the book had
+dropped out. We hadn't a second to lose," he explained for the third
+time to Cherry. "The soldiers were searching in the yard when Malinkoff
+found the breach in the wall. I hated leaving you----"
+
+"Aw!" said the disgusted Cherry. "Ain't we settled that? Didn't I hear
+you tellin' Percy--and say, is it true that the young lady is--is
+broke?"
+
+"'Broke' is exactly the word," she said cheerfully. "I am going to be a
+nice Scottish wife and live within my husband's means--why, Cherry?"
+
+He had a book in his hand--the "Book of All-Power."
+
+"Where----?"
+
+"Found it on the road," he said. "I broke the lock an' tore out a couple
+of leaves to light a flare. I wanted to flag the train--but I've got
+'em--the leaves, I mean."
+
+"You found it?"
+
+She reached out her hand for the volume, but he did not give it to her.
+
+"I can't read Russian," he said. "What does this say?" and he pointed to
+the inscription on the cover, and she read, translating as she went on:
+
+
+                       "THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER
+
+     "Herein is the magic of power and the words and symbols which
+     unlock the sealed hearts of men and turn their proud wills to
+     water."
+
+
+Cherry was silent.
+
+"That's a lie," he said quietly, "for it didn't turn my will to
+water--take it, miss!"
+
+She took it from his hand, wondering, and turned the broken cover. She
+could not believe her eyes ... and turned the leaves quickly. Every page
+was a Bank of England note worth a thousand pounds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"That was how Kensky kept his money evidently," said Malinkoff. "In such
+troublesome times as the Jews passed through, he must have thought it
+safest to convert his property into English money, and when he had
+reached the limit of his hoard he bound the notes into a book."
+
+The girl turned her bewildered face to Cherry.
+
+"Did you know that this was money?" she asked.
+
+"Sure," he said; "didn't I start in to burn it?"
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Book of All-Power, by Edgar Wallace
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