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Poltinin said: "The Socialist Revolutionaries are certain to be blamed for it. Expropriation for party purposes why not? As for us, no one will even suspect us." "The priests will never get over it," declared Molin, a former instructor, who was a drunkard and a thief a jail-bird deprived of his legal rights. The friends began preparations for the projected theft.
He did not dare as yet to visit Trirodov again, but appeared to be in an expectant mood, and remained in town. It was here that Ostrov met his old friend Yakov Poltinin. Yakov Poltinin and two other members of the Black Hundred were sent from the capital at the request of Kerbakh and Zherbenev.
Ostrov fell back into his chair. His red face became tinged with a sudden grey pallor. His eyes, now bloodshot, half closed like those of a prostrate doll with the eye mechanism in its stomach. There was witheredness, almost lifelessness, in Ostrov's voice: "Poltinin." "Your friend?" asked Trirodov. "Well, go on." "He is now being sought for," went on Ostrov in the same lifeless way.
They engaged him in religious and patriotic conversations and invited him to drink with them. Poltinin and Potseluychikov were also well received in the monastery. Strange threads are woven into the relations of people at times. Although Piotr Matov met Ostrov under unfriendly circumstances, Ostrov managed to scrape up an acquaintance even with him.
Yakov Poltinin had for some time entertained the secret ambition of accomplishing something on a grand scale, something that would cause a lot of talk. It is true the murder of the Chief of Police created a deep impression. Still, it was hardly as important as the affair he had in mind. To steal and destroy the miracle-working ikon that would be something to crow about!
"Why did Poltinin kill the Chief of Police?" Ostrov resumed his stupid snigger, and said: "It's a matter of very delicate politics. That means, it simply had to be done. I won't tell you why. Indeed, I couldn't tell you if I really wished to. I don't know myself, I can only venture to guess. But what is a guess worth?"
The Black Hundred had but a few members from among the working class by conviction. The Union of Active Combat attracted people who served now one side, now the other, people like Yakov Poltinin, and even two or three confirmed revolutionaries. They accepted the Brownings and handed them over to members of revolutionary organizations. Members of the union did not find this out until quite late.
The actual purpose, however, as understood by all these respected folk, though they ventured to do little more than hint of it to one another, was to establish with the help of the trio a patriotic movement; in short, to strike a blow at the intelligentsia. Yakov Poltinin took Ostrov with him to visit the families of the patriots.
A company of suspicious characters was in town ready to do anything they were bidden. Yakov Poltinin led Ostrov also among this company. In the course of the company's friendly carouse at Poltinin's apartments in a dirty little house on the outskirts of the town, the idea of stealing the sacred ikon came into some one's mind.
"Not at all," said Poltinin with a knowing look. "Two million is putting it mildly it's more likely worth three." "And how are you going to dispose of it?" asked Ostrov. "I know how," said Poltinin confidently. "Of course you'd get a trifle compared with its real value still we ought to get a half-million out of it." This was followed by blasphemous jests.
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