The evening’s debate upon the eternal “Law” seemed to have come to an end, and the members of the synagogue left in twos and threes. At last only Simon, the sleeping Duke, and two or three students remained.
The Rabbi they had first met came up to Simon. “You will stay here?” he suggested. “We shall meet in the morning.”
Simon rose and bowed. “So be it,” he said in Yiddish.
The Rabbi bowed in return, his hands folded before him, and covered by the sleeves of his long gown. Simon settled himself beside De Richleau, and wrapping his furs around him, was soon asleep.
In the morning the Rabbi who had befriended them came to them again. Simon had been awake for quite a time before he arrived, and had been trying to translate what he wished to say into simple Yiddish phrases. He told the Rabbi the plain truth, without either elaborating or concealing anything.
The Rabbi looked grave. It was his duty to avoid bringing trouble or discredit upon his community, yet he wished, if he could, to aid this brother in the faith from a far country.
“I can take you to the prison,” he said at length. “There are Jewish prisoners whom it is my duty to visit from time to time. It may chance that you shall see the brother whom you seek, but more than this I cannot do. I think it wise, also, that you do not stay here longer than another night, else it may be that you will bring trouble upon us, who have ever many troubles.”
Simon inclined his head gravely, more than happy to have secured so much assistance. “When can we go?” he asked.
“I must speak to the chief Rabbi. If he consents we may leave here at once.”
When he had gone Simon translated the conversation to De Richleau, who had woken stiff, but much refreshed.
“I fear we have undertaken a difficult task,” De Richleau shook his head, despondently. “How are we to plot an escape for a prisoner, which may take days of careful organization, when we are suspects ourselves? However, we can only trust our luck will hold, we’ve been very fortunate so far.”
After a little while the Rabbi returned. “It is well,” he said. “The Rabbi consents. Let us go.”
Simon pulled on his furs, and followed the Rabbi through the great wooden door into the narrow street.
They walked quickly and silently — the cold was piercing. Their way lay through the twisting streets of the old town,” and at last they came to a high wall surrounding a number of bleak, two-storeyed stone buildings. The great gates in the wall stood wide open. One heavily bearded man, wrapped in a great top coat, sat in a little watch-house, warming his feet at an open brazier. He nodded to the Rabbi, and they walked through into the courtyard. A very different business, Simon thought, to the regulations which he had encountered when he had had occasion to enter Brixton Prison on account of Richard Eaton.
Several men were playing a game of volley-ball in the courtyard, but Simon saw that Rex was not among them. They entered a long, low room in one of the buildings. Most of the occupants seemed to be asleep.
The place was furnished only with trestle tables, hard benches, and the usual big porcelain stove. The floor looked as though it had not been swept for weeks.
Simon’s sharp eyes travelled backwards and forwards, while the Rabbi spoke to one or two of the prisoners, evidently men of the Jewish race, but there was no sign of the big American.
They left the building, and entered a hall in the second block; it was furnished in the same way, and was identical in size with the first. No warders were in evidence, and it seemed that the prisoners were allowed to move freely in and out just as they liked. Here also the majority of the occupants were sleeping or talking quietly together — still no sign of Rex.
In the common-room of the third block, a similar scene met Simon’s eyes; filth, discomfort, lassitude, but no attempt at any ordered control. It was in the third building that he noticed a curious thing — none of the men wore boots! Instead, they had list slippers. He was just pondering over this when his attention was attracted by a small group squatting on the floor in the corner. Two little Yakuts, with merry faces and long Mongolian eyes, sat with their backs to the wall; before them, facing away from Simon, was a fat, bald-headed man, and a broad, strapping fellow, of unusual height, with powerful shoulders.
The bald man shook a small box that rattled, and it was evident that the four were engaged in a primitive form of dice.
Simon looked again at the colossal back of the young giant. “Could it be? If it was — gone were the dark, wavy curls — this man’s head was close cropped. Suddenly, in a loud voice, he spoke: “Come on, digger — spill the beans!”
Then Simon knew that the first part of their mission was accomplished. In this sordid Siberian prison, he had run to earth that most popular figure among the younger generation of society from Long Island to Juan les Pins — Mr. Rex Mackintosh Van Ryn.
XII — Escape
Simon was in quandary — he could not see any guards, but did not know if it was better to go up and speak to Rex, or wait till the latter saw him; either way there seemed to be the risk that Rex might give the show away in his surprise. The problem was solved by the American turning round, and Simon saw that he had been recognized. Rex kept his head — he did not stand up at once, he played two more rounds of dice, and then, getting lazily to his feet, strolled out of the room.
Simon followed him slowly — he found Van Ryn eagerly waiting for him round the corner of the building, none of the other prisoners was in sight.
“Say, boy!” Rex exclaimed, seizing his shoulders in an almost painful grip. “If this isn’t just marvellous! I’ll tell the world, I never thought to see you in this Godforsaken quarter of the globe.”
Simon grinned, delighted. “See too much of me if you’re not careful — I’ll be in there playing dice with you.”
“How in heck d’you make this place? It’s in their darned forbidden territory — but I reckon you’ll be wise to that!”
“Two trains and a stolen sleigh,” Simon chuckled.
“Good for you! The Duke’ll have got my chit, I guess.”
“Yes, he’s here, too — in the local synagogue!”
“Holy smoke!” Rex shook with silent laughter.
“What a perfect hide-out. No one will go looking for the big thief there!”
“Oh, he’s all right for the moment — but how are we going to get you out, now that we are here?”
Van Ryn laughed, showing his white, even teeth. “That’s easy,” he said casually. “I’ll walk!”
“Aren’t there guards and warders?”
“Not so’s you’d notice them. They’ve got peculiar ideas about prisons in this city. It’s got Sing-Sing beat to a frazzle! No one tries escaping, ’cause they can’t get anywhere — no money, and no boots, that’s the bars they use in this burg; that, and one spy in each block to let them have the low-down about any little plan to frame a get-away.”
“But lots of the prisoners must have friends in the town — surely they could get out first and get help later?”
“That’s where you’re all wrong. Not a man in this prison was raised in Tobolsk. The local crooks get put on rail for a lock-up a thousand miles away — so what could a fellah do, anyway, with no friends, no boots, no money, and a couple of hundred miles of snow between him and the next town?”
“You can get out, then, if we can get you away afterwards?”
“I certainly can! About five o’clock ’ll be the best time.”