_A NIGHT AMONG THE NIHILISTS._
"Robinson, the boss wants you!"
"The dickens he does!" thought I; for Mr. Dickson, Odessa agent ofBailey & Co., corn merchants, was a bit of a Tartar, as I had learned tomy cost. "What's the row now?" I demanded of my fellow-clerk; "has hegot scent of our Nicolaieff escapade, or what is it?"
"No idea," said Gregory: "the old boy seems in a good enough humour;some business matter, probably. But don't keep him waiting." Sosummoning up an air of injured innocence, to be ready for allcontingencies, I marched into the lion's den.
Mr. Dickson was standing before the fire in a Briton's time-honouredattitude, and motioned me into a chair in front of him. "Mr. Robinson,"he said, "I have great confidence in your discretion and common sense.The follies of youth will break out, but I think that you have asterling foundation to your character underlying any superficiallevity."
I bowed.
"I believe," he continued, "that you can speak Russian pretty fluently."
I bowed again.
"I have, then," he proceeded, "a mission which I wish you to undertake,and on the success of which your promotion may depend. I would not trustit to a subordinate, were it not that duty ties me to my post atpresent."
"You may depend upon my doing my best, sir," I replied.
"Right, sir; quite right! What I wish you to do is briefly this: Theline of railway has just been opened to Solteff, some hundred miles upthe country. Now, I wish to get the start of the other Odessa firms insecuring the produce of that district, which I have reason to believemay be had at very low prices. You will proceed by rail to Solteff, andinterview a Mr. Dimidoff, who is the largest landed proprietor in thetown. Make as favourable terms as you can with him. Both Mr. Dimidoffand I wish the whole thing to be done as quietly and secretly aspossible--in fact, that nothing should be known about the matter untilthe grain appears in Odessa. I desire it for the interests of the firm,and Mr. Dimidoff on account of the prejudice his peasantry entertainagainst exportation. You will find yourself expected at the end of yourjourney, and will start to-night. Money shall be ready for yourexpenses. Good-morning, Mr. Robinson; I hope you won't fail to realisethe good opinion I have of your abilities."
"Gregory," I said, as I strutted into the office, "I'm off on amission--a secret mission, my boy; an affair of thousands of pounds.Lend me your little portmanteau--mine's too imposing--and tell Ivan topack it. A Russian millionaire expects me at the end of my journey.Don't breathe a word of it to any of Simpkins's people, or the wholegame will be up. Keep it dark!"
I was so charmed at being, as it were, behind the scenes, that I creptabout the office all day in a sort of cloak-and-bloody-dagger style,with responsibility and brooding care marked upon every feature; andwhen at night I stepped out and stole down to the station, theunprejudiced observer would certainly have guessed, from my generalbehaviour, that I had emptied the contents of the strong-box beforestarting into that little valise of Gregory's. It was imprudent of him,by the way, to leave English labels pasted all over it. However, I couldonly hope that the "Londons" and "Birminghams" would attract noattention, or at least that no rival corn-merchant might deduce fromthem who I was and what my errand might be.
Having paid the necessary roubles and got my ticket, I ensconced myselfin the corner of a snug Russian car, and pondered over my extraordinarygood fortune. Dickson was growing old now, and if I could make my markin this matter it might be a great thing for me. Dreams arose of apartnership in the firm. The noisy wheels seemed to clank out "Bailey,Robinson & Co.," "Bailey, Robinson & Co.," in a monotonous refrain,which gradually sank into a hum, and finally ceased as I dropped into adeep sleep. Had I known the experience which awaited me at the end of myjourney it would hardly have been so peaceable.
I awoke with an uneasy feeling that some one was watching me closely;nor was I mistaken. A tall dark man had taken up his position on theseat opposite, and his black sinister eyes seemed to look through me andbeyond me, as if he wished to read my very soul. Then I saw him glancedown at my little trunk.
"Good heavens!" thought I, "here's Simpkins's agent, I suppose. It wascareless of Gregory to leave those confounded labels on the valise."
I closed my eyes for a time, but on reopening them I again caught thestranger's earnest gaze.
"From England, I see," he said in Russian, showing a row of white teethin what was meant to be an amiable smile.
"Yes," I replied, trying to look unconcerned, but painfully aware of myfailure.
"Travelling for pleasure, perhaps?" said he.
"Yes," I answered eagerly. "Certainly for pleasure; nothing else."
"Of course not," said he, with a shade of irony in his voice."Englishmen always travel for pleasure, don't they? Oh, no; nothingelse."
His conduct was mysterious, to say the least of it. It was onlyexplainable upon two hypotheses--he was either a madman, or he was theagent of some firm bound upon the same errand as myself, and determinedto show me that he guessed my little game. They were about equallyunpleasant, and, on the whole, I was relieved when the train pulled upin the tumble-down shed which does duty for a station in the rising townof Solteff--Solteff, whose resources I was about to open out, and whosecommerce I was to direct into the great world channels. I almostexpected to see a triumphal arch as I stepped on to the platform.
I was to be expected at the end of my journey, so Mr. Dickson hadinformed me. I looked about among the motley crowd, but saw no Mr.Dimidoff. Suddenly a slovenly, unshaved man passed me rapidly, andglanced first at me and then at my trunk--that wretched trunk, the causeof all my woes. He disappeared in the crowd; but in a little time camestrolling past me again, and contrived to whisper as he did so, "Followme, but at some distance," immediately setting off out of the stationand down the street at a rapid pace. Here was mystery with a vengeance!I trotted along in his rear with my valise, and on turning the cornerfound a rough droschky waiting for me. My unshaven friend opened thedoor, and I stepped in.
"Is Mr. Dim----" I was beginning.
"Hush!" he cried. "No names, no names; the very walls have ears. Youwill hear all to-night;" and with that assurance he closed the door,and, seizing the reins, we drove off at a rapid pace--so rapid that Isaw my black-eyed acquaintance of the railway carriage gazing after usin surprise until we were out of sight.
I thought over the whole matter as we jogged along in that abominablespringless conveyance.
"They say the nobles are tyrants in Russia," I mused; "but it seems tome to be the other way about, for here's this poor Mr. Dimidoff, whoevidently thinks his ex-serfs will rise and murder him if he raises theprice of grain in the district by exporting some out of it. Fancy beingobliged to have recourse to all this mystery and deception in order tosell one's own property! Why, it's worse than an Irish landlord. It ismonstrous! Well, he doesn't seem to live in a very aristocratic quartereither," I soliloquised, as I gazed out at the narrow crooked streetsand the unkempt dirty Muscovites whom we passed. "I wish Gregory or someone was with me, for it's a cut-throat-looking shop! By Jove, he'spulling up; we must be there!"
We _were_ there, to all appearance; for the droschky stopped, and mydriver's shaggy head appeared through the aperture.
"It is here, most honoured master," he said, as he helped me to alight.
"Is Mr. Dimi----" I commenced; but he interrupted me again.
"Anything but names," he whispered; "anything but that. You are too usedto a land that is free. Caution, oh sacred one!" and he ushered me downa stone-flagged passage, and up a stair at the end of it. "Sit for a fewminutes in this room," he said, opening a door, "and a repast will beserved for you;" and with that he left me to my own reflections.
"Well," thought I, "whatever Mr. Dimidoff's house may be like, hisservants are undoubtedly well trained. 'Oh sacred one!' and 'reveredmaster!' I wonder what he'd call old Dickson himself, if he is so politeto the clerk! I suppose it wouldn't be the thing to smoke in this littlecrib; but I could do a pipe nicely. By the
way, how confoundedly like acell it looks!"
It certainly did look like a cell. The door was an iron one, andenormously strong, while the single window was closely barred. The floorwas of wood, and sounded hollow and insecure as I strode across it. Bothfloor and walls were thickly splashed with coffee or some other darkliquid. On the whole, it was far from being a place where one would belikely to become unreasonably festive.
I had hardly concluded my survey when I heard steps approaching down thecorridor, and the door was opened by my old friend of the droschky. Heannounced that my dinner was ready, and, with many bows and apologiesfor leaving me in what he called the "dismissal room," he led me downthe passage, and into a large and beautifully furnished apartment. Atable was spread for two in the centre of it, and by the fire wasstanding a man very little older than myself. He turned as I came in,and stepped forward to meet me with every symptom of profound respect.
"So young and yet so honoured!" he exclaimed; and then seeming torecollect himself, he continued, "Pray sit at the head of the table.You must be fatigued by your long and arduous journey. We dine_t[^e]te-[`a]-t[^e]te_; but the others assemble afterwards."
"Mr. Dimidoff, I presume?" said I.
"No, sir," said he, turning his keen grey eyes upon me. "My name isPetrokine; you mistake me perhaps for one of the others. But now, not aword of business until the council meets. Try your _chef's_ soup; youwill find it excellent, I think."
Who Mr. Petrokine or the others might be I could not conceive. Landstewards of Dimidoff's, perhaps; though the name did not seem familiarto my companion. However, as he appeared to shun any business questionsat present, I gave in to his humour, and we conversed on social life inEngland--a subject in which he displayed considerable knowledge andacuteness. His remarks, too, on Malthus and the laws of population werewonderfully good, though savouring somewhat of Radicalism.
"By the way," he remarked, as we smoked a cigar over our wine, "weshould never have known you but for the English labels on your luggage;it was the luckiest thing in the world that Alexander noticed them. Wehad had no personal description of you; indeed we were prepared toexpect a somewhat older man. You are young indeed, sir, to be entrustedwith such a mission."
"My employer trusts me," I replied; "and we have learned in our tradethat youth and shrewdness are not incompatible."
"Your remark is true, sir," returned my newly-made friend; "but I amsurprised to hear you call our glorious association a trade! Such a termis gross indeed to apply to a body of men banded together to supply theworld with that which it is yearning for, but which, without ourexertions, it can never hope to attain. A spiritual brotherhood would bea more fitting term."
"By Jove!" thought I, "how pleased the boss would be to hear him! Hemust have been in the business himself, whoever he is."
"Now, sir," said Mr. Petrokine, "the clock points to eight, and thecouncil must be already sitting. Let us go up together, and I willintroduce you. I need hardly say that the greatest secrecy is observed,and that your appearance is anxiously awaited."
I turned over in my mind as I followed him how I might best fulfil mymission and secure the most advantageous terms. They seemed as anxiousas I was in the matter, and there appeared to be no opposition, soperhaps the best thing would be to wait and see what they would propose.
I had hardly come to this conclusion when my guide swung open a largedoor at the end of a passage, and I found myself in a room larger andeven more gorgeously fitted up than the one in which I had dined. A longtable, covered with green baize and strewn with papers, ran down themiddle, and round it were sitting fourteen or fifteen men conversingearnestly. The whole scene reminded me forcibly of a gambling hell I hadvisited some time before.
Upon our entrance the company rose and bowed. I could not but remarkthat my companion attracted no attention, while every eye was turnedupon me with a strange mixture of surprise and almost servile respect. Aman at the head of the table, who was remarkable for the extreme pallorof his face as contrasted with his blue-black hair and moustache, wavedhis hand to a seat beside him, and I sat down.
"I need hardly say," said Mr. Petrokine, "that Gustave Berger, theEnglish agent, is now honouring us with his presence. He is young,indeed, Alexis," he continued to my pale-faced neighbour, "and yet he isof European reputation."
"Come, draw it mild!" thought I, adding aloud, "If you refer to me, sir,though I am indeed acting as English agent, my name is not Berger, butRobinson--Mr. Tom Robinson, at your service."
A laugh ran round the table.
"So be it, so be it," said the man they called Alexis. "I commend yourdiscretion, most honoured sir. One cannot be too careful. Preserve yourEnglish _sobriquet_ by all means. I regret that any painful duty shouldbe performed upon this auspicious evening; but the rules of ourassociation must be preserved at any cost to our feelings, and adismissal is inevitable to-night."
"What the deuce is the fellow driving at?" thought I. "What is it to meif he does give his servant the sack? This Dimidoff, wherever he is,seems to keep a private lunatic asylum."
"_Take out the gag!_" The words fairly shot through me, and I started inmy chair. It was Petrokine who spoke. For the first time I noticed thata burly stout man, sitting at the other end of the table, had his armstied behind his chair and a handkerchief round his mouth. A horriblesuspicion began to creep into my heart. Where was I? Was I in Mr.Dimidoff's? Who were these men, with their strange words?
"Take out the gag!" repeated Petrokine; and the handkerchief wasremoved.
"Now, Paul Ivanovitch," said he, "what have you to say before you go?"
"Not a dismissal, sirs," he pleaded; "not a dismissal: anything butthat! I will go into some distant land, and my mouth shall be closed forever. I will do anything that the society asks; but pray, pray do notdismiss me."
"You know our laws, and you know your crime," said Alexis, in a cold,harsh voice. "Who drove us from Odessa by his false tongue and hisdouble face? Who wrote the anonymous letter to the Governor? Who cut thewire that would have destroyed the arch-tyrant? You did, PaulIvanovitch; and you must die."
I leaned back in my chair and fairly gasped.
"Remove him!" said Petrokine; and the man of the droschky, with twoothers, forced him out.
I heard the footsteps pass down the passage, and then a door open andshut. Then came a sound as of a struggle, ended by a heavy, crunchingblow and a dull thud.
"So perish all who are false to their oath," said Alexis solemnly; and ahoarse "Amen" went up from his companions.
"Death alone can dismiss us from our order," said another man furtherdown; "but Mr. Berg--Mr. Robinson is pale. The scene has been too muchfor him after his long journey from England."
"Oh, Tom, Tom," thought I, "if ever you get out of this scrape you'llturn over a new leaf. You're not fit to die, and that's a fact." It wasonly too evident to me now that by some strange misconception I had gotin among a gang of cold-blooded Nihilists, who mistook me for one oftheir order. I felt, after what I had witnessed, that my only chance oflife was to try to play the _r[^o]le_ thus forced upon me until anopportunity for escape should present itself; so I tried hard to regainmy air of self-possession, which had been so rudely shaken.
"I am indeed fatigued," I replied; "but I feel stronger now. Excuse mymomentary weakness."
"It was but natural," said a man with a thick beard at my right hand."And now, most honoured sir, how goes the cause in England?"
"Remarkably well," I answered.
"Has the great commissioner condescended to send a missive to theSolteff branch?" asked Petrokine.
"Nothing in writing," I replied.
"But he has spoken of it?"
"Yes: he said he had watched it with feelings of the liveliestsatisfaction," I returned.
"'Tis well! 'tis well!" ran round the table.
I felt giddy and sick from the critical nature of my position. Anymoment a question might be asked which would show me in my true colours.I rose and helped myself fr
om a decanter of brandy which stood on a sidetable. The potent liquor flew to my excited brain, and as I sat down Ifelt reckless enough to be half amused at my position, and inclined toplay with my tormentors. I still, however, had all my wits about me.
"You have been to Birmingham?" asked the man with the beard.
"Many times," said I.
"Then you have of course seen the private workshop and arsenal?"
"I have been over them both more than once."
"It is still, I suppose, entirely unsuspected by the police?" continuedmy interrogator.
"Entirely," I replied.
"Can you tell us how it is that so large a concern is kept so completelysecret?"
Here was a poser; but my native impudence and the brandy seemed to cometo my aid.
"That is information," I replied, "which I do not feel justified indivulging even here. In withholding it I am acting under the directionof the chief commissioner."
"You are right--perfectly right," said my original friend Petrokine."You will no doubt make your report to the central office at Moscowbefore entering into such details."
"Exactly so," I replied, only too happy to get a lift out of mydifficulty.
"We have heard," said Alexis, "that you were sent to inspect the_Livadia_. Can you give us any particulars about it?"
"Anything you ask I will endeavour to answer," I replied, indesperation.
"Have any orders been made in Birmingham concerning it?"
"None when I left England."
"Well, well, there's plenty of time yet," said the man with thebeard--"many months. Will the bottom be of wood or iron?"
"Of wood," I answered at random.
"'Tis well!" said another voice. "And what is the breadth of the Clydebelow Greenock?"
"It varies much," I replied; "on an average about eighty yards."
"How many men does she carry?" asked an an[ae]mic-looking youth at thefoot of the table, who seemed more fit for a public school than this denof murder.
"About three hundred," said I.
"A floating coffin!" said the young Nihilist, in a sepulchral voice.
"Are the store-rooms on a level with or underneath the state-cabins?"asked Petrokine.
"Underneath," said I decisively, though I need hardly say I had not thesmallest conception.
"And now, most honoured sir," said Alexis, "tell us what was the replyof Bauer, the German socialist, to Ravinsky's proclamation."
Here was a deadlock with a vengeance. Whether my cunning would haveextricated me from it or not was never decided, for Providence hurriedme from one dilemma into another and a worse one.
A door slammed downstairs, and rapid footsteps were heard approaching.Then came a loud tap outside, followed by two smaller ones.
"The sign of the society!" said Petrokine; "and yet we are all present;who can it be?"
The door was thrown open, and a man entered, dusty and travel-stained,but with an air of authority and power stamped on every feature of hisharsh but expressive face. He glanced round the table, scanning eachcountenance carefully. There was a start of surprise in the room. He wasevidently a stranger to them all.
"What means this intrusion, sir?" said my friend with the beard.
"Intrusion!" said the stranger. "I was given to understand that I wasexpected, and had looked forward to a warmer welcome from myfellow-associates. I am personally unknown to you, gentlemen, but I amproud to think that my name should command some respect among you. I amGustave Berger, the agent from England, bearing letters from the chiefcommissioner to his well-beloved brothers of Solteff."
One of their own bombs could hardly have created greater surprise had itbeen fired in the midst of them. Every eye was fixed alternately on meand upon the newly-arrived agent.
"If you are indeed Gustave Berger," said Petrokine, "who is this?"
"That I am Gustave Berger these credentials will show," said thestranger, as he threw a packet upon the table. "Who that man may be Iknow not; but if he has intruded himself upon the lodge under falsepretences, it is clear that he must never carry out of the room what hehas learned. Speak, sir," he added, addressing me: "who and what areyou?"
I felt that my time had come. My revolver was in my hip-pocket; but whatwas that against so many desperate men? I grasped the butt of it,however, as a drowning man clings to a straw, and I tried to preserve mycoolness as I glanced round at the cold, vindictive faces turned towardsme.
"Gentlemen," I said, "the _r[^o]le_ I have played to-night has been apurely involuntary one on my part. I am no police spy, as you seem tosuspect; nor, on the other hand, have I the honour to be a member ofyour association. I am an inoffensive corn-dealer, who by anextraordinary mistake has been forced into this unpleasant and awkwardposition."
I paused for a moment. Was it my fancy that there was a peculiar noisein the street--a noise as of many feet treading softly? No, it had diedaway; it was but the throbbing of my own heart.
"I need hardly say," I continued, "that anything I may have heardto-night will be safe in my keeping. I pledge my solemn honour as agentleman that not one word of it shall transpire through me."
The senses of men in great physical danger become strangely acute, ortheir imagination plays them curious tricks. My back was towards thedoor as I sat, but I could have sworn that I heard heavy breathingbehind it. Was it the three minions whom I had seen before in theperformance of their hateful functions, and who, like vultures, hadsniffed another victim?
I looked round the table. Still the same hard, cruel faces. Not oneglance of sympathy. I cocked the revolver in my pocket.
There was a painful silence, which was broken by the harsh, gratingvoice of Petrokine.
"Promises are easily made and easily broken," he said. "There is but oneway of securing eternal silence. It is our lives or yours. Let thehighest among us speak."
"You are right, sir," said the English agent; "there is but one courseopen. He must be dismissed."
I knew what that meant in their confounded jargon, and sprang to myfeet.
"By Heaven," I shouted, putting my back against the door, "you shan'tbutcher a free Englishman like a sheep! The first among you who stirs,drops!"
A man sprang at me. I saw along the sights of my Derringer the gleam ofa knife and the demoniacal face of Gustave Berger. Then I pulled thetrigger, and, with his hoarse scream sounding in my ears, I was felledto the ground by a crashing blow from behind. Half unconscious, andpressed down by some heavy weight, I heard the noise of shouts and blowsabove me, and then I fainted away.
When I came to myself I was lying among the _d['e]bris_ of the door, whichhad been beaten in on the top of me. Opposite were a dozen of the menwho had lately sat in judgment upon me, tied two and two, and guarded bya score of Russian soldiers. Beside me was the corpse of the ill-fatedEnglish agent, the whole face blown in by the force of the explosion.Alexis and Petrokine were both lying on the floor like myself, bleedingprofusely.
"Well, young fellow, you've had a narrow escape," said a hearty voice inmy ear.
I looked up, and recognised my black-eyed acquaintance of the railwaycarriage.
"Stand up," he continued: "you're only a bit stunned; no bones broken.It's no wonder I mistook you for the Nihilist agent, when the very lodgeitself was taken in. Well, you're the only stranger who ever came out ofthis den alive. Come downstairs with me. I know who you are, and whatyou are after now; I'll take you to Mr. Dimidoff. Nay, don't go inthere," he cried, as I walked towards the door of the cell into which Ihad been originally ushered. "Keep out of that: you've seen evil sightsenough for one day. Come down and have a glass of liquor."
He explained as we walked back to the hotel that the police of Solteff,of which he was the chief, had had warning and been on the look-outduring some time for this Nihilist emissary. My arrival in sounfrequented a place, coupled with my air of secrecy and the Englishlabels on that confounded portmanteau of Gregory's, had completed thebusiness.
I have little more to tell. M
y Socialistic acquaintances were all eithertransported to Siberia or executed. My mission was performed to thesatisfaction of my employers. My conduct during the whole business haswon me promotion, and my prospects for life have been improved sincethat horrible night, the remembrance of which still makes me shiver.
_Printed by_ WALTER SCOTT, _Felling, Newcastle-on-Tyne_.
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