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Updated: April 30, 2025
"The Cave." "The Cave? There is no such place!" he replied, looking suspiciously at Bodlevski. Bodlevski put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some small change: "If you tell me " The watchman brightened up. "Why didn't you say so before?" he asked, grinning. "You see that house, the second from the corner? The wooden one? That's the Cave."
The young woman carried, in a little bag hung round her neck, two hundred and forty-four thousand rubles in bills, and she and her companion carried pistols in their pockets for use in case of need. Their passports declared that the young woman belonged to the noble class, and was the widow of a college assessor, her name being Maria Solontseva, while the young man was a Pole, Kasimir Bodlevski.
There was not a suggestion of future difficulties, and everything seemed to promise perfect harmony for the future. Bodlevski talked over plans of future undertakings, and told him, with evident satisfaction, that they had just heard of the arrest of the younger Prince Shadursky, in Paris, for attempting to defraud a bank by a pretended sale of gold dust.
In one was a sticky black fluid; in the other, something as clear as water. "We are chemists, you see," the red-nosed man explained to Bodlevski with a grin, and then added: "Finch! on guard!" A young man, who had been lolling on a couch in the corner, rose and took up a position outside the door.
A few days after the reception at Prince Shadursky's Baroness von Doring was installed in a handsome apartment on Mokhovoi Street, at which her "brother," Ian Karozitch, or, to give him his former name, Bodlevski, was a frequent visitor. By a "lucky accident" he had met on the day following the reception our old friend Sergei Antonovitch Kovroff, the "captain of the Golden Band."
She declares that her husband is somewhere in Germany, and that she lives here with her brother." "Who is the 'brother'?" asked the old princess curiously. "The deuce knows! He is also a bit shady. Oh, yes! Sergei Kovroff knows him; he told me something about their history; he came here with a forged passport, under the name of Vladislav Karozitch, but his real name is Kasimir Bodlevski."
Count Kallash was also gay, and a certain satisfaction filled his mind at the thought of his sister's security, as he felt the heavy packet of notes in his pocket. He smoked his cigar with evident satisfaction, sipping the fragrant tea from time to time. The conversation was gay and animated, and for some reason or other turned to the subject of clubs. "Ah, yes," interposed Bodlevski, "a propos!
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.
Perhaps all this might have happened if it had not been for cards and roulette and the perpetual desire of increasing their capital for the worthy couple fell into the hands of a talented company, whose agents robbed them at Frascati's in Paris, and again in Hamburg and various health resorts, so that hardly a year had passed when Bodlevski one fine night woke up to the fact that they no longer possessed a ruble.
"'Secret' sent me!" Bodlevski suddenly exclaimed, without lowering his voice. The barkeeper looked at him sharply and suspiciously, and then asked, with a smile: "Who did you say?" "'Secret," repeated Bodlevski. After a while the barkeeper said, "And did your friend make an appointment?" "Yes, an appointment!" Bodlevski replied, beginning to lose patience.
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