“You can come to London,” he said at last, suddenly brightening.
“Not for a long time, Galoubchick, it is so recent since I ’ave been there — the Soviet do not like their artistes to go to other countries. Besides, I ’ave my duty to the Russian people. My art is not of myself — it belongs to them!”
“I could meet you in Berlin.”
“Perhaps — we will see, but tell me, what will you do about your frien’?”
“Apply for his release or public trial, through his Embassy,” Simon suggested, but he had little faith in the idea.
“That will be of no use; officially the Kommissars will deny all knowledge of ’is existence. ’e was found wandering in forbidden territory. That is the bad trouble. ’e may know things that the Kommissars do not wish the world to know.”
“You — er — haven’t promised that I shall leave Russia, have you? Only Moscow — ”
She smiled. “No, it is Moskawa only that you must leave, but I can guess, I think, what you will do — you will go searching for your frien’ in the forbidden territory, like the ballalaika player of the old days who search for your King Richard the Lion-’earted. Oh, my little Simon, it is you ’oo are Lion-’earted, but I am frightened for you!”
Simon laughed, a little bashfully. “Doesn’t seem much else to do, does there?”
She left the divan, and went over to an Empire escritoire in which she unlocked a drawer, taking from it a small, square ikon set with pearls. She looked at it carefully for a moment, studying the delicate oval miniature of the Madonna and Child which it contained — then she brought it over to him. “Take this, Batushka, and carry it always with you. It will be of great protection to you.”
“Thank you, my sweet — why are you so good to me?” Simon took the scared picture. “I — er — didn’t know that you were religious — I didn’t think that Russia was religious any more.”
“You are wrong,” she said, quietly. “Many of the popes have been done away with — they were evil, drunken men, unfitted for the service of God. That ees a good thing, but there is freedom of thought in Russia now. One can follow a religion if one will, and Russia — Holy Russia — is unchanging beneath the surface. With a few exceptions, all Russians carry God in their ’eart!”
Simon nodded. “I think I understand — anyhow, I shall always keep this with me.”
“Eef it ees that you are in what you call a ‘muddle’, send the little ikon back to me. Look!” She took it again, quickly, and pressed a hidden spring. “In ’ere you can send a little letter — nobody will find it — all Russia knows Valeria Petrovna. It will come to me surely, wherever I am.”
“Mightn’t it be stolen?” asked Simon, doubtfully. “I mean these pearls — they’re real.”
“They are small, and only of little value — also you will say to ’im ’oo brings it: ‘Valeria Petrovna will give you a thousand roubles if you bring this safe to ’er.’”
“You’ve been wonderful to me,” said Simon, drawing her towards him. “How can I ever tell you what I feel?”
The late dawn of the winter’s morning was already rising over the snow-white streets, and the ice-floes of the Moskawa River, when Simon Aron slipped quietly out of the block of flats which contained Valeria Petrovna’s apartment; but he left with the knowledge that Rex was held prisoner amid the desolate wastes of the Siberian snows, in the city of Tobolsk.
IX — Beyond the Pale
The Duke and Simon were walking in the great open courtyards that lie between the many buildings within the Kremlin walls.
It was the Duke’s quizzical sense of humour that had prompted him to choose this particular spot — the very heart and brain of Soviet Russia — in which to hold a conference, having for its end a conspiracy against the Soviet State.
When a tired but cheerful Simon had pushed a slip of paper across the breakfast table that morning, bearing the one word “Tobolsk”, he had only nodded and said: “Let us go and see the Kremlin this morning.”
“Tobolsk,” said the Duke as they strolled through the first courtyard, “is on the other side of the Ural mountains.”
“Yes,” Simon agreed, dismally. “Sounds an awfully long way away.”
“It is about thirteen hundred miles, that is to say, a little less than the distance from here to London.”
Simon groaned. “Somewhere in Siberia, isn’t it?”
“It is, my friend —” De Richleau smiled. “But Siberia is a large place — let us be thankful that poor Rex is not imprisoned at Tomsk, which is two thousand — or Irkutsk, which is three thousand — or Yakutsk, which is four thousand miles away! All of these are in Siberia!”
“Well, I’m glad about that!” Simon gave his jerky little laugh into the palm of his hand. “But how do we get there?”
De Richleau looked round carefully, to make sure that they could not be overheard. “I spent some little time,” he said, slowly, “before we left the hotel, examining the maps and time-tables that are provided. Tobolsk is unfortunately not on the main Trans-Siberian line — it lies about a hundred and twenty miles to the north of the railway; there is, I find, a local line from the little town of Tyumen, which is just on the border of Siberia and Russia proper, but the main-line trains do not halt there. There is another local line running back northwestward from Omsk, but that would mean going a further four hundred miles into Siberia to get to Omsk, and the loss of at least a day.”
“Seems a difficult place to get at!” Simon interjected.
“It is. I think that the best way would be by the Trans-Siberian to Sverdlovsk, or Ekaterinberg, as it used to be called, after the amorous Empress of that name! That is the last town of any importance in European Russia, and all the main-line trains stop there. From there we could take the Trans-Siberian branch-line which heads direct for Tobolsk, but which is not yet quite completed. It comes to an end at the west bank of the Tavda River, but, there is only a hundred miles between Tavda and Tobolsk, and it is almost certain that there will be a service of sleighs between the dead end of the railway and the town.”
“You — er — couldn’t find out definitely?”
“No, nothing at all about the unfinished branch from Sverdlovsk or the branch-line from Tyumen, and furthermore we must be very careful in our inquiries not to arouse suspicions that we have any idea of venturing outside the prescribed limits for tourists.”
“I — er — suppose —” Simon hesitated, “the American Embassy couldn’t do anything?”
The Duke laughed. “How can they, my dear fellow; their position today is the same as yesterday. If we had actual proof that Rex was at Tobolsk it would be a different matter, but to charge the Soviet with holding him there on the information given you by Valeria Petrovna would only provoke another denial. They would move him at once to another prison. The only way is to go there and find out the truth — the problem is how to get there. Personally I favour the plan of going to Sverdlovsk and then trusting to chance.”
“Wonder if they’ll let us?” said Simon, doubtfully. “I haven’t seen anything about it in the booklets that they issue.”
“That we must find out, but, in any case, they will not prevent me taking a ticket through to Vladivostok, and as all the trains stop at Sverdlovsk, I can drop off there. I think I should tell you, my friend, that it is not my intention that you should accompany me on this journey.”
“Oh! Why?” Simon’s eyes flickered towards his friend.