The Stammerer was sitting at a table with an elderly lady dressed in black. Since his top hat and gloves were lying there at his elbow, I realised that he was only visiting, and evidently not for very long. I could not hear their conversation. The Stammerer said nothing for most of the time and only nodded occasionally, but the woman almost never closed her mouth – she was telling him about something, glancing beseechingly into his face and constantly dabbing at her tearstained eyes with a handkerchief. He asked her several brief questions and she replied with obvious eagerness, looking as if she felt guilty and was trying to justify herself. Eventually the Stammerer got up and left, leaving a banknote on the table. His hostess greedily grabbed it and hid it behind a picture hanging on the wall.
Afraid of being discovered, I jumped down off the crate, ran off smartly to a short distance and stood behind a tree. I had not let my carriage go, but told the driver to wait round the corner. And I was right to do so, because at that time it would not have been easy to find another cab.
The Stammerer, for instance, stood on the pavement for eight whole minutes before he was able to continue his journey. If it were not for my foresight, the chase would have been broken off at that point.
I told my driver to keep his distance and only urge the horse on when the droshky in front of us turned a corner. We drove out on to Sadovaya Street, where it was possible to increase the distance even more, and drove straight for twenty-six minutes before turning on to Basmannaya Street. The Stammerer got out in front of a five-storey house (5B). I thought that this time he must surely have come home, but it immediately became clear that I was mistaken yet again. This time he did not even let his cab go. I drove on past as far as the next turning and told my driver to wait again.
Both entrances to the house were locked, but the Stammerer did not wake the yard keeper. I saw him go into the courtyard, and I followed him cautiously. Looking round the corner I saw him fiddle briefly with a lock, open the back door and go inside. This seemed most curious to me. Why would such an impressive gentleman, in an English redingote and a top hat, be creeping into back entrances in the middle of the night?
I checked the lock and saw that it was very primitive – it could easily be opened with a tie pin, which was evidently what the Stammerer had done. In the battle between caution and excitement, the latter won the upper hand and I made up my mind to go in. In order not to make a racket I took off my boots and left them outside before slipping through the door.
I could hear the mark’s footsteps as he climbed up to the top floor, the fifth. What he did there, I do not know – I did not venture to clamber up after him. I thought I heard something squeak quietly, then there was total silence. I waited impatiently for fifteen minutes and decided that was enough. I went outside and what do you think? My boots had disappeared! Oh, the fine people of Moscow! An empty yard in the middle of the night, but some villain had still spotted them. And how deftly it had been done – I was only five paces away, but I hadn’t heard a thing!
Imagine my position. Cool weather, and it was damp – there had been a shower of rain recently – and there was I in my socks. I was absolutely furious. I wanted to run to my carriage and go home. But then I thought: why don’t I take a look up at the fifth floor and see if any of the windows are lit?
No, there weren’t any lights on, but I suddenly noticed some kind of white spot run across the glass of one of the windows – the one next to the staircase. On looking closer I could see it was someone with an electric torch. Who else could it be if not the mark?
Now you must appreciate the full extent of my devotion to the cause. Chilled through, with wet feet, I nonetheless decided to see the assignment through to the end.
The Stammerer came out twenty minutes later, and the pursuit continued. There were no carriages about on the streets now, so the clatter of wheels and hooves on cobblestones carried very far, and I had to drop back a long way, so that I almost lost him twice. I was only hoping that the Stammerer had finally finished his business and was going home for the night, and I could hurry home, soak my feet in hot water and drink raspberry tea. You should know that I have a tendency to catch colds, followed every time by a stubborn cough.
Beyond the Yauza we drove into the suburbs, and I remember how surprised I was that the Stammerer could have chosen such a disreputable area in which to reside. I was finally convinced that his travels were over when I saw him let his driver go. I told mine to wait again, although he complained that the horse was tired and it was time for his tea. I had to give him an extra fifty kopecks for the wait – but it soon emerged that the money had been wasted. By the way, my outgoings today in carrying out your assignment amounted to a substantial sum: three roubles and fifty kopecks. I am not telling you this out of mercenary interest, but so that you will understand how much my altruism costs me in every possible way.
I concealed myself very successfully behind a well, in the thick shade of a spreading tree, whereas the Stammerer was brightly illuminated by the moon, so that I could observe all his movements while remaining completely safe, if, that is, one does not take into account the danger to my health from my frozen feet.
The house that the mark approached seemed quite unremarkable to me. A log building with four dark windows and a planking fence with a gate at the side. This time the Stammerer did not attempt to gain entry. He approached the second window from the left and started making movements that I could not understand. I thought at first that he was drawing a rectangle round the edge of the frame. But then I heard a slight rasping sound, and I realised that the Stammerer was scraping something on the glass. Then he took some item that I could not see out of his pocket, there was a plopping sound, the glass glinted in the moonlight and came out of its frame. I realised that the Stammerer had cut it out with a glasscutter. I do not know for what purpose. He took off his redingote, carefully wrapped his strange booty in it, and set off along the street in the direction from which he had come. Now it was clear why he had let his cab go. The glass could have been broken by jolting over the cobbled surface of the road. I was obliged to part company with my driver too, following which I set off after the mark, taking every possible precaution.
As I have already written, following the evening rain it was a clear, moonlit night, and so the Stammerer’s tall figure was visible from a long distance. I followed about a hundred and fifty paces behind, for obvious reasons making no sound, and he could not have noticed me.
We walked for a terribly long time – across a bridge, then down a long street, the name of which I do not know, then past Kolanchovskaya Square and the railway station. I bruised my feet all over against the cobblestones and tore my socks, but I firmly resolved to see the job through to the end. The restless Stammerer had to be on his way home now. It was impossible to imagine that he would engage in yet another escapade while carrying such a fragile load.
However, I was not able to discover his address, which was the main purpose of the assignment that you had set, because something terrible and mysterious happened to me in Ascheulov Lane off Sretenka Street.