for I had never seen him look so smart. He was wearing a loose overcoat
of a steely colour and a soft hat which did not so much sit as stand on
his big misshaped head. He had an odour of eau-de-cologne about him.
"Ah, Romashka," I said cheerfully. "How do you do, old Owl?"
He seemed shaken by this greeting.
"Ah, yes. Owl," he said smiling. "I quite forgot that you used to call me
that at school. Fancy remembering all those school nicknames!"
He, too, was trying to appear at ease.
"I remember everything, old chap. You want to see me?"
"If you're not too busy."
"Not at all," I said. "I'm absolutely free."
In the lift he studied me narrowly all the time, apparently trying to
make out whether I was drunk, and if I was, how he could profit by it.
But I was not drunk. I had quaffed only one glass of wine to the health
of the great airman who had held out to me the hand of friendship.
"Nice room, this," he remarked as he accepted the armchair I politely
offered him.
"Not bad."
I was expecting him to ask how much I paid for the room, but he did
not.
"This is quite a decent hotel," he said. "As good as the Metropole."
"I daresay it is."
He was waiting for me to begin the conversation. But I sat there with
my legs crossed, smoking, deeply absorbed in a study of the "Rules for
Visitors" which lay under the sheet of glass covering the desk. Finally, he
sighed quite openly, and began.
"Look here, Sanya, there are quite a number of things we must talk
over," he said gravely. "I think we're sufficiently civilised to discuss and
settle matters in a peaceful manner. Don't you think so?"
Evidently, he had not forgotten the anything but peaceful manner in
which I had once settled matters with him. But his voice hardened with
every word he uttered.
"I don't know what induced Katya suddenly to leave home, but I have
a right to ask whether the reasons for it have anything to do with your
appearance on the scene?"
"Why don't you ask Katya that?" I said coolly.
He fell silent. His ears flushed, his eyes snapped viciously and his
brow smoothened. I looked at him with interest.
218
"But from what I know, she went away with you," he resumed in a
slightly suppressed voice.
"So she did. As a matter of fact I helped her pack."
"I see," he rasped. One eye was now almost closed and the other
squinted—not a pretty sight. I had never seen him like that before. "I
see," he repeated.
"Yes, that's how it is."
"I see."
We fell silent.
"Look here," he resumed, "we didn't finish our talk that time at
Korablev's anniversary. I want to tell you that in a general way I know
all about the expedition of the St. Maria. I was interested in it, too, the
same as you are, only from a different angle, I daresay."
I did not answer. I knew what that angle was.
"Among other things, you were interested, I believe, is finding out
what Nikolai Antonich's role was in that expedition. At least, that's what
I gathered from our conversation."
He could have gathered that in other ways too, but I let his remark
pass. I wasn't sure yet what he was driving at. "I think I can be of great
service to you in this." "Really?" "Yes."
He suddenly lunged towards me, and I instinctively jumped up and
stood behind my chair.
"Listen," he muttered, "I know such things about him! Such things! I
have evidence that will settle his hash, if only you go about it the right
way. What d'you think he is?"
He repeated the last phrase three times, moving up to me so close that
I was obliged to take him by the shoulders and gently push him away.
But he didn't even notice this.
"Things that he's even forgotten himself," Romashka went on. "In
papers."
He was referring, of course, to the papers he had taken from
Vyshimirsky.
"I know why you quarrelled with him. You told him that he had
swindled the expedition and he threw you out. But it's true. You were
right."
It was the second time I had heard this acknowledged, but now it gave
me little pleasure to hear it. I merely said in feigned surprise:
"You don't say?"
"It's him all right!" Romashka repeated with a sort of rapturous glee.
"I'll help you. I'll hand it all over to you, all my evidence. We'll send him
toppling."
I should have kept silent, but I could not help asking:
"How much?"
He collected himself.
"You can take it any way you please," he said. "But all I ask of you is
that you should go away."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Without Katya?"
"Yes."
"That's interesting. In other words, you are asking me to give her up."
"I love her," he said almost haughtily.
219
"You do. That's interesting. And we're not to correspond with each
other, I suppose?"
He was silent.
"Wait a minute, I won't be long," I said, and left the room.
The floor lady was sitting at her desk. I asked permission to use her
telephone, and while I was talking I kept an eye on the corridor to make
sure that Romashka did not leave. But he did not-it probably did not
occur to him that I had gone out to make a call.
"Nikolai Antonich? Grigoriev here." He asked me to repeat the name,
evidently thinking that he had misheard. "Nikolai Antonich," I said
politely, "excuse me for disturbing you so late. But I must see you."
For a moment he did not answer. Then he said: "In that case, come
along."
"Nikolai Antonich, if you don't mind I'd like you to call at my place.
Believe me it's very important, not so much for me as for you."
There was another pause and I could hear him breathing at the other
end.
"When? I can't come today."
"But it must be today. Right now. Nikolai Antonich," I raised my
voice, "believe me this once, at least. You will come. I'm ringing off
now."
He did not ask where I was staying, and that was proof enough, if
proof were needed, that it was he who had sent me the newspaper
containing the article "In Defence of a Scientist". But just then I had
other things on my mind and I dismissed the matter and went back to
Romashka.
I don't remember ever having lied and shuffled the way I did during
the twenty minutes before Nikolai Antonich arrived. I pretended that I
did not care at all what Nikolai Antonich had ever been, I asked what
the papers were about, and assured him in a voice nasal with cunning
that I could not go away without Katya. Then came a knock at the door
and I cried out: "Come in!"
Nikolai Antonich came in and stopped in the doorway.
"Good evening, Nikolai Antonich," I said.
I wasn't looking at Romashka but when afterwards I did I saw him
sitting on the edge of the chair, his head drawn down into his shoulders
with an anxious listening air-a real owl, and a sinister one too.
"There, Nikolai Antonich," I went on very calmly, "you probably know
this gentleman. He goes by the name of Romashov, your favourite pupil
and assistant, and almost next door to a kinsman, if I am not mistaken.
I've invited you here to give you the gist of our talk."
Nikolai Antonich was still standing by the door, very erect,