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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"> </p> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>EDGAR WALLACE</h2> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h3>WARD, LOCK & 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"> </p> + +<p class="center"><i>Made and Printed in Great Britain by</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Ward, Lock & Co., Limited, London.</span></p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </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 & Co., Limited.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center"><i>In Various Editions</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="center">———</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"> </p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + + +<h3>To<br />HARRY HUGHES-ONSLOW</h3> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h1>THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER</h1> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </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"> <a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Introducing Malcolm Hay</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Gun-man Refuses Work</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Grand Duchess Irene</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Prince who Planned</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Raid on the Silver Lion</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Prince Serganoff Pays the Price</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Kensky of Kieff</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Grand Duke is Affable</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Hand at the Window</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Terror in Making</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Commissary with the Crooked Nose</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">In the Prison of St. Basil</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Cherry Bim Makes a Statement</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">In the Holy Village</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></span> <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"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Book of All-power</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">On the Road</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Monastery of St. Basil the Leper</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The End of Boolba</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <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"> </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—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—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."</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——"</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—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—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—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—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——"</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"—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!"</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 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."</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 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.</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—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—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.</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—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——" 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—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——" 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—an evidently rehearsed speech, "I tore my +hair, I wept——"</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——"</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—is he here?" he +demanded, looking up.</p> + +<p>Yakoff nodded.</p> + +<p>"Does he know——"</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—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—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——"</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—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——"</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—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——"</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—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.</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">* * * * *</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—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—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—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—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—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——"</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—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—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—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.</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—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——"</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 Café 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—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——" 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"—she +hesitated, and a shadow passed over her face—"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——" 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——"</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.——"</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—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—the Mecca of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> those who love good leather +work—for the characteristic attaché 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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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 clientèle 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 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<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 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.</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——"</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—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—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——</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—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—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——" he +looked in vain for the woman he had seen before, and added, that he +might round off his sentence gracefully—"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——"</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——"</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"—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——"</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——"</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——"</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—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—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.</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 manœuvring 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—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—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—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—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——!" 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—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——"</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—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——" 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—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——" 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——"</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——" 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—he is the greatest merchant in Little Russia. He even +tells me his troubles—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——"</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.—er—er——"</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——" 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—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——"</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—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—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——"</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—er—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—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—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."</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—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—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—where is he?"</p> + +<p>He took a step toward her.</p> + +<p>"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.</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—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——"</p> + +<p>So far he got when an arm came from behind the curtain—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—and he alone was fully dressed.</p> + +<p>"Boolba—what is it?"</p> + +<p>"The book—the book! It is mine! See ... floor!"</p> + +<p>But the book had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Look! Look!" yelled the writhing man. "How shall I look? I who am +blind—blind—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"—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?—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—let me think."</p> + +<p>The cab-driver tapped his bearded chin.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Right," said the astonished young man, "but—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—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—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—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.</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—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—I am on my way home. During the war I have been controlling allied +supplies in Little Russia—the Revolution stopped that."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>He shrugged his padded shoulders.</p> + +<p>"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."</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——"</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—for God's +sake never let that be known. I must also have warm clothes for the +winter—in fact, I must live."</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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!"</p> + +<p>"So—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—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—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—by his description I gather he is what you would call a gun-man."</p> + +<p>Malcolm stared.</p> + +<p>"Here—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—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—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>—an untidy, +unshaven man, smoking a cigarette—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—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.</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——" he said.</p> + +<p>"Not that word," said Malinkoff quickly. "Citizen or comrade—comrade +for preference."</p> + +<p>"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?"</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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.</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—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—"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—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—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—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—a grimy, +dishevelled priest—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—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—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—Beem—is that how you pronounce it?"</p> + +<p>"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!"</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—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—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—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?"</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—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—a——" 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—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."</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—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—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."</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—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?"</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—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——"</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—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—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—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—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"—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.</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—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?"</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"—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?"</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—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—but I forgot the old man's a +Jew."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean——?" 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—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——"</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—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——"</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—I can handle 'em all—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——"</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——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—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——"</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—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."</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—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—the 'Book of—of——"</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—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—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—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—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—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—he had heard it before—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——?"</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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!—<i>prikanzerio</i>—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—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—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 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.</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——"</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—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——"</p> + +<p>"Kensky?" said Malcolm quickly.</p> + +<p>"Kensky." The tone was short. "I told him that no good would come of +it—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—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—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—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.</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—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—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 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—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.</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—a low, gurgling laugh—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—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—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—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—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——" 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—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."</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—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—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—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——"</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—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.</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—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——" 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—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——"</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—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—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——"</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—you are——"</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—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—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——"</p> + +<p>"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?"</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—why, Cherry?"</p> + +<p>He had a book in his hand—the "Book of All-Power."</p> + +<p>"Where——?"</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—but I've got +'em—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—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">* * * * *</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"> </p> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Book of All-Power, by Edgar Wallace + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK OF ALL-POWER *** + +***** This file should be named 24920-h.htm or 24920-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/2/24920/ + +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) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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