It was a big underground room, the sort of basement dining-room one finds in certain of the cafes in Soho, and its decorations and furniture were solid and comfortable. There were a dozen men in this innocent-looking saloon when the girl entered. They were standing1 about talking, or sitting at the tables playing games. The air was blue with tobacco smoke.
Her arrival seemed to be the signal for the beginning of a conference. Four small tables were drawn2 from the sides and placed together, and in a few seconds she found herself one of a dozen that sat about the board.
The man who seemed to take charge of the proceedings3 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 crooked4. It was this crooked nose which gave her a clue to his identity. She remembered in Kieff, where physical peculiarities5 could not pass unnoticed, some reference to "twist nose," and racked her brains in an effort to recall who that personage was. That he knew her he very quickly showed.
"Sophia Kensky," he said, "we have sent for you to ask you why your father is in London."
"If you know my father," she replied, "you know also that I, his daughter, do not share his secrets."
The man at the head of the table nodded.
"I know him," he said grimly, "also I know you, Sophia. I have seen you often at the meetings of our society in Kieff."
Again she frowned, trying to recall his name and where she had seen him. It was not at any of the meetings of the secret society--of that she was sure. He seemed to read her thoughts, for he laughed--a deep, thunderous laugh which filled the underground room with sound.
"It is strange that you do not know me," he said, "and yet I have seen you a hundred times, and you have seen me."
A light dawned on her.
"Boolba, the _buffet-schek_ of the Grand Duke!" she gasped6.
He nodded, absurdly pleased at the recognition.
"I do not attend the meetings in Kieff, little sister, for reasons which you will understand. But here in London, where I have come in advance of Yaroslav, it is possible. Now, Sophia Kensky, you are a proved friend of our movement?"
She nodded, since the statement was in the way of a question.
"It is known to you, as to us, that your father, Israel Kensky, is a friend of the Grand Duchess."
Boolba, the President, saw the sullen8 look on her face and drew his own conclusions, even before she explained her antipathy9 to the young girl who held that exalted10 position.
"It is a mystery to me, Boolba," she said, "for what interest can this great lady have in an old Jew?"
"The old Jew is rich," said Boolba significantly.
"So also is Irene Yaroslav," said the girl. "It is not for money that she comes."
"It is not for money," agreed the other, "it is for something else. When the Grand Duchess Irene was a child, she was in the streets of Kieff one day in charge of her nurse. It happened that some Caucasian soldiers stationed in the town started a pogrom against the Jews. The soldiers were very drunk; they were darting11 to and fro in the street on their little horses, and the nurse became frightened and left the child. Your father was in hiding, and the soldiers were searching for him; yet, when he saw the danger of the Grand Duchess, he ran from his hiding-place, snatched her up under the hoofs12 of the horses, and bore her away into his house."
"I did not know this," said Sophia, listening open-mouthed. Her father had never spoken of the incident, and the curious affection which this high-born lady had for the old usurer of Kieff had ever been a source of wonder to her.
"You know it now," said Boolba. "The Grand Duke has long since forgotten what he owes to Israel Kensky, but the Grand Duchess has not. Therefore, she comes to him with all her troubles--and that, Sophia Kensky, is why we have sent for you."
There was a silence.
"I see," she said at last, "you wish me to spy upon Israel Kensky and tell you all that happens."
"I want to know all that passes between him and the Grand Duchess," said Boolba. "She comes to London to-morrow with her father, and it is certain she will seek out Israel Kensky. Every letter that passes between them must be opened."
"But----" she began.
"There is no 'but,'" roared Boolba. "Hear and obey; it is ordered!"
He turned abruptly14 to the man on his left.
"You understand, Yaroslav arrives in London to-morrow. It is desirable that he should not go away."
"But, but, Excellency," stammered15 the man on his left, "here in London!"
Boolba nodded.
"But, Excellency," wailed16 the man, "in London we are safe; it is the one refuge to which our friends can come. If such a thing should happen, what would be our fate? We could not meet together. We should be hounded down by the police from morning until night; we should be deported--it would be the ruin of the great movement."
"Nevertheless, it is an order," said Boolba doggedly17; "this is a matter beyond the cause. It will gain us powerful protectors at the court, and I promise you that, though the commotion18 will be great, yet it will not last for very long, and you will be left undisturbed."
"But----" began one of the audience, and Boolba silenced him with a gesture.
"I promise that none of you shall come to harm, my little pigeons, and that you shall not be concerned in this matter."
"But who will do it, Excellency?" asked another member.
"That is too important to be decided19 without a meeting of all the brethren. For my part, I would not carry out such an order unless I received the instructions of our President."
"I promise that none of you shall take a risk," sneered20 Boolba. "Now speak, Yakoff!"
The man who had accompanied Sophia Kensky smiled importantly at the company, then turned to Sophia.
"Must I say this before Sophia Kensky?" he asked.
"Speak," said Boolba. "We are all brothers and sisters, and none will betray you."
Yakoff cleared his throat.
"When your Excellency wrote to me from Kieff, asking me to find a man, I was in despair," he began--an evidently rehearsed speech, "I tore my hair, I wept----"
"Tell us what you have done," said the impatient Boolba. "For what does it matter, in the name of the saints and the holy martyrs21" (everyone at the table, including Boolba, crossed himself) "whether your hair was torn or your head was hammered?"
"It was a difficult task, Excellency," said Yakoff in a more subdued22 tone, "but Providence23 helped me. There is a good comrade of ours who is engaged in punishing the bourgeoisie by relieving them of their goods----"
"A thief, yes," said Boolba.
"Through him I learnt that a certain man had arrived in England and was in hiding. This man is a professional assassin."
They looked at him incredulously, all except Boolba, who had heard the story before.
"An assassin?" said one. "Of what nationality?"
"American," said Yakoff, and there was a little titter of laughter.
"It is true," interrupted Boolba. "This man, whom Yakoff has found, is what is known in New York as a gun-man. He belongs to a gang which was hunted down by the police, and our comrade escaped."
"But an American!" persisted one of the unconvinced.
"An American," said Yakoff. "This man is desired by the police on this side, and went in hiding with our other comrade, who recognized him."
"A gun-man," said Boolba thoughtfully, and he used the English word with some awkwardness. "A gun-man. If he would only--is he here?" he demanded, looking up.
Yakoff nodded.
"Does he know----"
"I have told him nothing, Excellency," said Yakoff, rising from the table with alacrity24, "except to be here, near the entrance to the club, at this hour. Shall I bring him down?"
Boolba nodded, and three minutes later, into this queer assembly, something of a fish out of water and wholly out of his element, strode Cherry Bim, that redoubtable25 man.
He was a little, man, stoutly26 built and meanly dressed. He had a fat, good-humoured face and a slight moustache, and eyes that seemed laughing all the time.
Despite the coldness of the night, he wore no waistcoat, and as a protest against the conventions he had dispensed27 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 plumber28.
He certainly did not bear the impress of gun-man.
If he was out of his element, he was certainly not out of conceit29 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 benevolent30 smile.
"Good evening, ladies and gents," he said. "Shake hands with Cherry Bim! Bim on my father's side and Cherry by christening--Cherry Bim, named after the angels." And he beamed again.
This little speech, delivered in English, was unintelligible31 to the majority of those present, including Sophia Kensky, but Yakoff translated it. Solemnly he made a circuit of the company and as solemnly shook hands with every individual, and at last he came to Boolba; and only then did he hesitate for a second.
Perhaps in that meeting there came to him some premonition of the future, some half-revealed, half-blurred picture of prophecy. Perhaps that picture was one of himself, lying in the darkness on the roof of the railway carriage, and an obscene Boolba standing erect32 in a motor-car on the darkened station, waving his rage, ere the three quick shots rang out.
Cherry Bim confessed afterwards to a curious shivery sensation at his spine33. The hesitation34 was only for a second, and then his hand gripped the big hand of the self-constituted chairman.
"Now, gents and ladies," he said, with a comical little bow towards Sophia, "I understand you're all good sports here, and I'm telling you that I don't want to stay long. I'm down and out, and I'm free to confess it, and any of you ladies and gents who would like to grubstake a stranger in a foreign land, why, here's your chance. I'm open to take on any kind of job that doesn't bring me into conspicuous35 relationship with the bulls--bulls, ladies and gentlemen, being New York for policemen."
Then Boolba spoke13, and he spoke in English, slow but correct.
"Comrade," he said, "do you hate tyrants37?"
"If he's a copper," replied Mr. Bim mistakenly. "Why, he's just as popular with me as a hollow tooth at an ice-cream party."
"What does he say?" asked the bewildered Boolba, who could not follow the easy flow of Mr. Bim's conversation, and Yakoff translated to the best of his ability.
And then Boolba, arresting the interruption of the American, explained. It was a long explanation. It dealt with tyranny and oppression and other blessed words dear to the heart of the revolutionary; it concerned millions of men and hundreds of millions of men and women in chains, under iron heels, and the like; and Mr. Bim grew more and more hazy38, for he was not used to the parabole, the allegory, or the metaphor39. But towards the end of his address, Boolba became more explicit40, and, as his emotions were moved, his English a little more broken.
Mr. Bim became grave, for there was no mistaking the task which had been set him.
"Hold hard, mister," he said. "Let's get this thing right. There's a guy you want to croak41. Do I get you right?"
Again Mr. Yakoff translated the idioms, for Yakoff had not lived on the edge of New York's underworld without acquiring some knowledge of its language.
Boolba nodded.
"We desire him killed," he said. "He is a tyrant36, an oppressor----"
"Hold hard," said Bim. "I want to see this thing plain. You're going to croak this guy, and I'm the man to do it? Do I get you?"
"That is what I desire," said Boolba, and Bim shook his head.
"It can't be done," he said. "I'm over here for a quiet, peaceful life, and anyway, I've got nothing on this fellow. I'm not over here to get my picture in the papers. It's a new land to me--why, if you put me in Piccadilly Circus I shouldn't know which way to turn to get out of it! Anyway, that strong arm stuff is out so far as I'm concerned."
"What does he say?" said Boolba again, and again Yakoff translated.
"I thought you were what you call a gun-man," said Boolba with a curl of his lip. "I did not expect you to be frightened."
"There's gun-men and gun-men," said Cherry Bim, unperturbed by the patent sarcasm42. "And then there's me. I never drew a gun on a man in my life that didn't ask for it, or in the way of business. No, sirree. You can't hire Cherry Bim to do a low, vulgar murder."
His tone was uncompromising and definite. Boolba realized that he could not pursue his argument with any profit to himself, and that if he were to bring this unwilling43 agent to his way of thinking a new line would have to be taken.
"You will not be asked to take a risk for nothing," he said. "I am authorized44 to pay you twenty thousand roubles, that is, two thousand pounds in your money----"
"Not mine," interrupted Bim. "It's ten thousand dollars you're trying to say. Well, even that doesn't tempt45 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 blindfolded46. That's all there is to it, gentlemen--and ladies," he added.
"So you refuse?" Neither Boolba's voice nor his manner was pleasant.
"That's about the size of it," said Cherry Bim, rising. "I'm a grafter47, I admit it. There ain't hardly anything I wouldn't do from smashing a bank downwards48, to turn a dishonest penny. But, gents, I'm short of the necessary nerve, inclination49, lack of morals, and general ungodliness, to take on murder in the first, second, or third degree."
"You have courage, my friend," said Boolba significantly. "You do not suppose we should take you into our confidence and let you go away again so easily?"
Mr. Bim's smile became broader.
"Gents, I won't deceive you," he said. "I expected a rough house and prepared for it. Watch me!"
He extended one of his hands in the manner of a conjurer and with the other pulled up the sleeve above the wrist. He turned the hands over, waggling the fingers as though he were giving a performance, and they watched him curiously50.
"There's nothing there, is there?" said Cherry Bim, beaming at the company, "and yet there is something there. Look!"
No eyes were sharp enough to follow the quick movement of his hand. None saw it drop or rise again. There was a slur51 of movement, and then, in the hand which had been empty, was a long-barrelled Colt. Cherry Bim, taking no notice of the sensation he created, tossed the revolver to the ceiling and caught it again.
"Now, gents, I don't know whether you're foolish or only just crazy. Get away from that door, Hector," he said to a long-haired man who stood with folded arms against the closed door. And "Hector," whose name was Nickolo Novoski Yasserdernski in real life, made haste to obey.
"Wait a bit," said the careful gun-man. "That's a key in your waistcoat pocket, I guess." He thrust the barrel of his revolver against the other's side, and the long-haired man doubled up with a gasp7. But Cherry Bim meant no mischief52. The barrel of the gun clicked against the end of a key, and when Cherry Bim drew his revolver away the key was hanging to it!
"Magnetic," the gun-man kindly53 explained; "it is a whim54 of mine."
With no other words he passed through the door and slammed it behind him.
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1
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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20
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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25
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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plumber
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| n.(装修水管的)管子工 | |
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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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30
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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32
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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tyrants
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| 专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 )； 暴君似的人； （古希腊的）僭主； 严酷的事物 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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metaphor
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| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
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40
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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41
croak
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| vi.嘎嘎叫，发牢骚 | |
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42
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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43
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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44
authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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45
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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46
blindfolded
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| v.（尤指用布）挡住（某人）的视线( blindfold的过去式 )；蒙住（某人）的眼睛；使不理解；蒙骗 | |
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47
grafter
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| 嫁接的人，贪污者，收贿者； 平铲 | |
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48
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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49
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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50
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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51
slur
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| v.含糊地说；诋毁；连唱；n.诋毁；含糊的发音 | |
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52
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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53
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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54
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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