Short Fiction by Vladimir Korolenko (ready player one ebook TXT) 📕

“I don’t know,” I replied, “how much the information I possess would help the case. I should be very glad if my testimony should prove useful.”

“Good! Such promptness does you credit, my dear sir. May I ask with whom I have the honor⁠ ⁠…”

I told him my name.

“Afanásy Ivánovitch Proskuróf,” he said in his turn. “You have just spoken of your desire to promote justice. Now, I propose that, in order not to do the thing halfway, you would consent, my dear sir,⁠ ⁠… in a word,⁠ ⁠… would you be willing to go with me now?”

Vasíli Ivánovitch laughed.

“Well, if ever!⁠ ⁠… This beats all! Do you propose to arrest him?”

I made haste to reassure him, telling him that I never for a moment suspected such a thing.

“And Vasíli Ivánovitch is only joking,” I added.

“I am glad that you understand me; my time is precious. We shall make but few changes after this, and you will tell me, on the way, all that you know of the matter; and it so happens that I have no clerk with me.”

There was no reason why I should refuse.

“I was just on the point myself of asking you to take me along, as I am very much interested in this affair.”

The image of the “Slayer” rose before me: his sombre countenance, the lines of agony on his brow, and the brooding anxiety expressed in his eyes.⁠—“He is bringing the cormorants down upon me, the cursed rascal!” My heart sank within me as I recalled his gloomy forebodings. Now these cormorants circle around him, as with closed eyes he lies in the dark Hollow, that once before cast its ominous shadow over his unsullied life.

“Halloo!” suddenly exclaimed Vasíli Ivánovitch, peering through the window. “Can you tell me, Afanásy Ivánovitch, who that is driving out of the forest?”

Proskuróf threw one hasty glance, and started instantly for the door.

“Come, let us hurry, for goodness’ sake!” he called out to me, seizing his hat from the table; and, as soon as I could get ready, I followed him, and found our spirited troika just driving up to the entrance.

Glancing in the direction of the forest, I saw a cart rapidly approaching, whose passenger from time to time sprang to his feet, and the alternate rise and fall of his arms indicated some kind of performance from behind the back of the driver. The slanting rays of the setting sun scintillated here and there on his buttons and shoulder-straps. When Proskuróf paid the driver who had brought him, the latter grinned by way of expressing his gratification.

“Many thanks, Your Excellency!⁠ ⁠…”

“Have you told your comrade?⁠—that fellow, I mean,” said Proskuróf, pointing towards the new driver.

“Yes, I have been told,” replied the man.

“Then, look out!” said the examining magistrate, as he took his seat in the cart. “If you get us there in an hour and a half, you shall have a ruble; but if you are a minute too late, only one minute too late, you understand!⁠ ⁠…”

The last sentence was not completed; for at this moment the horses started abruptly, and the words were stifled in Proskuróf’s throat.

The city of B⁠⸺ was some twenty versts distant. At first Proskuróf looked at his watch every instant, reckoning the distance already traversed, and once in a while he glanced over his shoulder; but at last, seemingly satisfied with the pace at which the troika was carrying us along, and convinced that no one was following us, he turned to me.

“Well, sir, what do you know about this affair?”

Then I told him about my adventure in the Hollow, and the driver’s apprehensions regarding a threat uttered by one of the robbers, whom I suspected to have been the merchant. Proskuróf drank it all in.

“Yes,” he said, when I paused, “all this will have its weight. But do you remember the faces of those men?”

“Yes, excepting the merchant’s.”

Proskuróf gave me one reproachful glance.

“Goodness!” he exclaimed, and his bitter disappointment revealed itself in his voice. “He of all others! Of course, you are not to blame; but he was just the one you ought to have remembered. Too bad! Too bad! However, he will not escape the clutches of the law.”

In less than an hour and a half we reached the station. Having given orders to have fresh horses harnessed as soon as possible, Proskuróf sent for the sótsky.31

A small peasant, with a thin beard and roguish eyes, made his appearance. The expression of his face betokened a mixture of good-nature and rascality, but the general impression was favorable and attractive. In his well worn smock-frock and shabby clothes there were no signs of affluence. On entering the hut, he bowed, then looked behind the door, as though to assure himself that there were no eavesdroppers present, and finally approached us. He seemed ill-at-ease, as though he felt himself to be in danger in Proskuróf’s presence.

“How goes it, Yevséyitch?” was the cordial greeting of the official. “What news? Your bird hasn’t flown?”

“How could he fly?” replied Yevséyitch, shuffling his feet: “he is well guarded.”

“Have you tried to talk with him?”

“I have; indeed I have.⁠ ⁠… But he does not seem inclined to talk. I tried politeness, at first; but I must confess I couldn’t help threatening him, after a while. ‘Why do you behave like a statue, you good-for-nothing fellow? Do you realize who I am?’⁠—‘And who are you, I should like to know?’⁠—‘An authority, that’s who!⁠—a sótsky!’⁠—‘Such authorities as you we have slapped in the face.’ What can you do with such a desperate fellow?⁠ ⁠… a villain!”

“Yes, yes,” interrupted Proskuróf, impatiently; “be sure and keep a sharp watch over him. I shall return in a short time.”

“He won’t run away. And I must say, Your Excellency, that he is not troublesome. Most of the time he lies down and looks at the ceiling⁠—whether asleep, or only resting, who can tell?⁠ ⁠… Once he got up and said he was