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Updated: June 2, 2025
By the evening she was almost frantic. Nina had been with a girl friend in the Vassily Ostrov all day. She would perhaps stay there all night if there were any signs of trouble. No one returned. Only the clock ticked on. Old Sacha asked whether she might go out for an hour. Vera nodded her head. She was then quite alone in the flat. Suddenly, about seven o'clock, Nina came in.
The gate opened towards him easily and without a sound. Ostrov looked round cautiously as he entered, and purposely left the gate open. He found himself in a small court on either side of which was a low wall. The gate swung to behind him with a metallic click. Had he himself pulled it to rather quickly? He could not recall now.
"And what may you be planning now?" With the same involuntary obedience Ostrov told Trirodov how their company was conspiring to steal a miracle-performing ikon from a neighbouring monastery. The plan was to burn the ikon and to sell the precious stones with which it was covered. It was a difficult affair, as the ikon was under guard.
I'll help you with money on a condition." "What sort of condition?" asked Ostrov with restrained anger. "You'll have to go from here very far for always," answered Trirodov. "I'll have to think that over," said Ostrov. "I give you a week. Come to me exactly within a week, and you'll receive the money." Ostrov suddenly felt an incomprehensible fear.
He himself might be suspected as an accomplice of the criminals. As it was, the local townsmen had none too friendly an eye for Trirodov. He dreaded entangling himself in this dark affair. He already began to feel vexed with himself for his strange curiosity that impelled him to question Ostrov about his affairs. It would have been better perhaps if he were ignorant of the conspiracy.
Only the entire length of the tall wall was before his eyes. It was already quite dark when Ostrov stopped at last at the main gate. The half-effaced figures and old heraldic emblems held his attention for a moment only. He had already taken hold of the brass bell-handle and paused cautiously, as if it were his habit to reconsider at the last moment; he gave a sudden shiver.
The police have not caught him to this day, and the authorities do not even know who he is." "And do you know?" asked Trirodov in a cold, deliberate voice. "I know, but I won't tell you," replied Ostrov rather venomously. "You shall tell me," said Trirodov with conviction. Then he added in even a more loud, determined, and commanding voice: "Tell me, who killed the Chief of Police?"
"I did not expect you until Wednesday," replied Trirodov. "Why Wednesday when Tuesday is just as good?" said Ostrov with a savage smile. "Or do you find it so hard to part with your cash? Have you become a bourgeois, Giorgiy Sergeyevitch?"
She asked me whether I had heard that there were very serious disturbances on the other side of the river. "I was on the Nevski early this afternoon," I said, "and I saw about twenty Cossacks go galloping down towards the Neva. I asked somebody and was told that some women had broken into the bakers' shops on Vassily Ostrov...." "It will end as they always end," said Vera.
The landlord of the small house in which Tchartkóff lodged, was no bad type of the class of house-owners in such quarters as the fifteenth line of the Vasílievskü Ostrov.
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