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"Gentlemen, you are strangers; let me introduce you to each other," said Kovroff, presenting Count Kallash to Bodlevski. "Very glad to know you," answered the Hungarian count, to Bodlevski's astonishment in Russian; "very glad, indeed! I have several times had the honor of hearing of you. Was it not you who had some trouble about forged notes in Paris?" "Oh, no!
Bodlevski crossed the street in the direction indicated, and looked for the sign over the door. To his astonishment he did not find it and only later he knew that the name was strictly "unofficial," only used by members of "the gang." Opening the door cautiously, Bodlevski made his way into the low, dirty barroom. Behind the bar stood a tall, handsome man with an open countenance and a bald head.
"Well, take a seat in the inner room," again said the barkeeper slyly. "Perhaps your friend will come in, or perhaps he is there already." Bodlevski made his way into a roomy saloon, with five windows with faded red curtains.
"So that you may be able to write a few words in the handwriting of Princess Anna; what you have to write I'll dictate to you." "And then?" "Then hurry up and get me a passport in some one else's name, and have your own ready. But learn her handwriting. Everything depends on that!" "It won't be easy. I'll hardly be able to!" muttered Bodlevski, scratching his head. Natasha flared up.
Bodlevski looked at his companion in astonishment. "I told you my Princess Anna was going to run away. She's gone! And her mother has cut her off from the inheritance," Natasha continued with an exultant smile. "I looked through the scrap basket, and have brought some papers with me." "What sort of papers?" "Oh, letters and notes. They are all in Princess Anna's handwriting.
He had no fears while turning white paper into banknotes in the seclusion of his own workshop, but he was full of apprehensions concerning his present guest, because several people had to be let into the secret. Yuzitch presently appeared through the same low door and, coming up to Bodlevski, explained that the passport would cost twenty rubles.
"Very well. And now let us make everything as clear as in a looking-glass. What class do you wish to make the person belong to? The commercial or the nobility?" "I think the nobility would be best," said Bodlevski. "Certainly! At least that will give the right of free passage through all the towns and districts of the Russian Empire. Let us see. Have we not something that will suit?"
Bodlevski gave him some change, which the red-nosed man put in his pocket and at once went to the sideboard for a flask of vodka which he had already bought. "Let us give thanks! And now to business!" he said, smacking his lips after a glass of vodka. A big, red-haired man, one of the group of seven, drew from his pocket two vials.
As this memory suddenly flashed into his mind, Bodlevski caught up his hat and coat and hurried downstairs into the street. Making his way through the narrow, dirty streets to the Five Points, he stopped perplexed. Happily he noticed a sleepy watchman leaning leisurely against a wall, and going up to him he said: "Tell me, where is the Cave?" "The what?" asked the watchman impatiently.
Our good friend, Count Kallash," he went on, turning to Bodlevski, "wishes to have the pleasure of cooperating in our common undertaking, and I can recommend him very highly." "Ah!" said Bodlevski, after a searching study of the count's face. "I understand! the baroness will return in a few minutes and then we can discuss matters at our leisure."
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