 CHAPTER XIII CHERRY BIM makes a statement. Malcolm was awakened in the night by a scream. He sprang from the bench, his face bathed in perspiration. What was that? he asked hoarsely. Malinkov was sitting on the edge of the bench, rubbing his eyes. I heard something, he yawned. Only Cherry Bim had not moved. He was lying on his back with his knees up and his hands beneath his head, wide awake. What was it, Cherry? asked Malcolm. Slowly the little man rose and stretched himself. I wonder what the time is, he said evasively. Malcolm looked at his watch. Half past three, he replied. He's asleep anyway, said Cherry, nodding towards the recumbent figure of the priest. He might have been useful. But I forgot the old man's adieu. Do you meet? said Malinkov and glanced at the gate. Cherry nodded again. I never thought they'd carry it out according to programming, he said. But they did. I heard them come in. There was a thud of a door-closing. That's the door of his cell. They have taken him out, I guess. The last fellow they killed in there, they hung on a hook. Just put a rope round his neck and pushed him in a bag. He was a long time dying, he said reflectively, and Malcolm thought that the little man's lower lip was trembling in spite of his calm matter-of-fact tone. Malinkov had walked across to the priest and had shaken him away. Father, he said, a man has just died in the next cell. Would you not read the Office of the Dead? The priest rose with an ill grace. Why should I be awakened from my sleep, he complained. Who is this man? I do not know his name, said Malinkov, but he is a Jew. A Jew? The priest spat on the ground contemptuously. What? I speak an office for a Jew, he demanded, roughed in his face. For a man, for a human fellow-creature, said Malinkov sternly, but the priest had gone back to his hard couch, nor would he leave it, and Malinkov with a shrug of his shoulders went back to his bed. That is Russia, eternal Russia, he said, and he spoke without bitterness. Neither Zarn or Soviet will alter it. They did not go to sleep again. Something was speaking to them from the next cell. Something that whimpered and raised its hands in appeal, and they welcomed the daylight, but not the diversion which daylight brought. Again the door banged open, and this time a file of soldiers stood in the entrance. Boris Mikhailovich, said the dark figure in the entrance, it is the hour. The priest rose slowly. His face was grey, the hands clasped together before him shook, nevertheless he walked firmly to the door. Before the soldiers had closed around him he turned and raised his hand in blessing, and Malinkov fell upon his knees. Then the door slammed and the bolt shot home, and they waited in silence. There was no sound for ten minutes. Then came a crash of musketry, so unexpected and so loud that it almost deafened them. A second volley followed, and after an interval a third, and then silence. Cherry Bim wiped his forehead. Three this morning, he said unsteadily, anyway it is better than hanging. It was a long pause, and then, say, he said, I'm sorry I said I was glad that guy was going. Malcolm understood. The day brought Irene at the same hour as on the previous afternoon. She looked around for the priest, and apparently understood, for she made no reference to the missing man. If you can get away from here, she said, go to Priyopojensky. That is a village a few verse from here. I tell you this, but she did not complete her sentence, but Malcolm could guess from the hopeless despair in her voice. Excuse me, miss, interrupted Cherry Bim. Ain't there any way of getting a gun for a man? Any old kind of gun, he said urgently, Colt Smith-Weston Browning, Morsa, I can handle them all. But Colt preferred. She shook her head sadly. It is impossible, she said. I search every time I come in through the lodge. In a pie, urged Cherry, I've read in stories how you can get these things in a pie. Couldn't you make? It's quite impossible, she said. Even bread is cut into four pieces. That is done in the lodge. Cherry Bim cast envious eyes on the tall guard at the doorway. He had a long revolver. I'll bet, said Cherry Bitterly, he don't know any more about a gun than a school mom. Why, he couldn't hit a house unless he was inside of it. I must go now, said the girl hastily. Tell me one thing, said Malcolm. You spoke yesterday of having one friend. Is that friend Israel Kensky? Hush, she said. She took his hand in both of hers. Good-bye, Mr. Hay, she said. I may not come to-morrow. Her voice was hard and strained, and she seemed anxious to end the interview. Pulver told me this morning, she went on speaking rapidly, but little above a whisper, that he had certain plans about me. Good-bye, Mr. Hay. This time she shook hands with Malenkov. Don't forget the village of Priyapurjensky, she repeated. There is only the slightest chance, but if God is merciful and you reach the outside world, you will find the house of Ivan Petrov. Please remember that. And in a minute she was gone. I wonder what was wrong, said Malcolm. She was not so frightened when she came in. Then she changed as though. Looking round he had seen, only for a fraction of a second, a hand through the grating over the bench. Someone had been listening in the next cell, and the girl had seen him. He sprang upon a bench and peered through, in time to see the man vanish beyond the angle of his vision. Malenkov was lighting his last cigarette. My friend, he said, I have an idea that in the early hours of the morning you and I will go the same way as the unfortunate priest. What makes you think so, asked Malcolm quickly. Not only do I, but the grand duchess thinks so also, said Malenkov, possibly this is news. Again the door was opened, and this time it was an officer of the Red Guard who appeared. He had evidently been chosen because of his knowledge of English. I want the thief, he said, tersely in that language. That sounds remarkably like me, said Cherry. He put on his derby hat slowly and went forth in his shirt sleeves. They watched him through the window being taken across the courtyard and through the archway which led to the prison offices and the outer gate. They haven't released him, I suppose, asked Malcolm, and Malenkov shook his head. He is to be interrogated, he said, evidently there is something which Bulba wants to know about us and which he believes this man will tell. Malcolm was silent, turning matters over in his mind. He won't tell anything that will injure us, he said. But the man is a crook, said Malenkov. That is the word, isn't it? That's the word, agreed Malcolm grimly, but he's also a man of my own race and breed, and whilst I would not trust him with my pocketbook, or I should not have trusted him before I came in here, I think I can trust him with my life, supposing that he has my life in his hands. In twenty minutes Cherry Bim was back, very solemn and mysterious, until the jailer was gone. Then he asked, who is Israelkensky anyway? Why? asked Malcolm quickly, because I'm going to make a statement about him, a written statement, he said cheerfully. I'm going to have a room all to myself. He spoke slowly, as though he were repeating something which he had already told himself. Because I am not a quick writer, then I am going to tell all that she said about Israelkensky. You can tell that in a second, said Malcolm Stirling, and the little man raised a lofty hand. Don't get up in the air. Why have they sent you back now? You ask a question or two, said Cherry. He put on his coat, examined the interior of his hat thoughtfully, and jammed it down on his head. Ten minutes are supposed to be laps, he said melodramatically, passed in light and airy conversation about a book. The book of, of all power, said Malcolm. That's the fellow. I should say it's the history of this darn place. Here they come. He pulled down his coat, brushed his sleeves and stepped forward briskly to meet the English-speaking officer. They passed an anxious two hours before he returned, and, if anything, he was more solemn than ever. He made no reply to their questions, but paced the room, and then he began to sing, and his tune had more reason than rhyme. Looked through the great ding, he chanted, See if anybody is watching or listening. My honey, oh my honey. There's nobody there, said Malcolm, after a brief inspection. He'll be back again in five minutes, said Cherry, stopping his song and speaking rapidly. I told him I wanted to be sure on one point, and he brought me back. I could have done it, but I wouldn't leave you alone. Done what? asked Malcolm. Save myself. Do you know what I saw when I got into that room for the first time? The guy in charge was locking away in a desk three guns and about ten packets of shells. It sounds like a fairy story, but it's true, and it's a desk with a lock that you could open with your teeth. It was Malinkoff who saw the possibilities of the situation, which the man described. And they left you alone in the room, he asked quickly. Sure, said Cherry, lift my hat, and lift it steady. Malcolm pulled his hat up, and the butt of the revolver slipped out. There's a browning there, be careful, said Cherry, ducking his head and pulling off his hat in one motion. Here's the other end of my arm. He put his hand beneath his coat and pulled out a colt. Here are the shells for the automatic. I'll take the longfellow. Now listen, you boys, said Cherry, through that gateway at the end of the yard you come to another yard and another gate, which has a guard on it. As if we get away, or whether we don't, depends on whether our luck is in or out. Looky whispered, here comes Percy. The door swung open on the officer, Beck and Cherry, forward, with a lift of his chin. Cherry walked towards him, and the officer half turned, in the attitude of one who was showing another out. Cherry's hand shot out, caught the man by the loose of his tunic, and swung him into the room. Laugh and the world last with you, said Cherry, who in an assortment of literary quotations, carved from heaven knows where. Shout, and you sleep alone! The muzzle of a long-barreled forty-five was stuck in the man's stomach. He did not see it, but he guessed it, and his hands went up. Tie him up, he wears braces, said Cherry. I'll take that belt of deadly weapons. He poured one revolver from the man's holster and examined it with an expert's eye. Not being clean for a month, he growled, you don't deserve to be trusty with a gun. He stuck the belt around his waist and sighed happily. They gagged the man with a handkerchief and threw him un-gently upon the bench, before they passed through the open door to comparative freedom. Cherry locked and bolted the door behind them and pulled down the outer shutter, with which, on occasions, the jailer made life in the cells a little more unendurable by excluding the light. The cells were below the level of the courtyard, and they moved along the trench from which they opened. Pacing his beak by the gateway was a solitary sentry. Stay here, whispered Cherry. He has seen me going backwards and forwards, and maybe he thinks I'm one of the official classes. He mounted the step leading up from the trench and walked boldly towards the gateway. Nearing the man, he turned to wave a greeting to an imaginary companion. In reality, he was looking to see whether there were any observers of the act which was to follow. Watching him, they did not see exactly what had happened. Suddenly the soldier doubled up like a jackknife and fell. Cherry bent over him, lifted the rifle, and stood it against the wall. Then, exhibiting remarkable strength for so small a man, he picked up the man in his arms and dropped him into the trench, which terminated at the gateway. They heard the thud of his body, and breaking cover, they raced across the yard, joining Cherry, who led the way through the deep arch. Now they saw the outer barrier. It consisted of a formidable iron grill. To their right was a gloomy building, which Malcolm Judge was the bureau of the prison. To the left, a high wall. On either side of the gateway was a squat lodge, and before these were a half dozen soldiers, some leaning against the gate, some sitting in the doorway of the lodges, but all carrying rifles. This way, said Cherry under his breath, and turned into the office. The door of the room on his left was open, and into this they walked. It was empty, but scarcely had to close the door to know footsteps outside. Cherry, with a gun in each hand, a hard and ugly grill on his fat face, covered the door, but the footsteps passed. There was a babble of voices outside and a rattle and creak of gates. Malcolm crept to the one window which the office held. He guessed it was here that Cherry had written his statement, and peep cautiously forth. A big closed auto was entering the gate, and he pulled his head back. Cherry was at his side. Somebody visiting, a fellow high up, whispered the latter hoarsely. They'll come in here. The guy we left in the cell told me he'd want this room. Try that door. He pointed to a tall press, and Malinkov was there in a second. The press was evidently used for the storage of stationery. There was one shelf, half way up, laden with packages of paper, and Malinkov lifted one end. The other slipped, and the package dropped with a crash. But the purring of the auto in the yard was noisy enough to drown the sound, unless somebody was outside the door. Three can squeeze in. You go first, Mr. Hay. It was more than a squeeze, it was a torture, but the door closed on them. Malcolm had an insane desire to laugh, but he checked it at the sound of a voice, for it was the voice of Bulba. I cannot stay very long, comrade, he was saying as he entered the room, but the rest was a mumble. I will see that she is kept by herself, said a strange voice, evidently of someone in authority at the prison. Malcolm bit his lip to check the cry that rose. Arine! Bulba's deep voice was again a rumble. Yes, comrade, I will bring her in, let me lead you to a chair. He evidently went to the door and called, and immediately there was a tramp of feet. What does this mean, Bulba? Malcolm knew the voice, he'd heard it before, and his relief was such that all sense of his own danger passed. Sofia Kensky, Bulba was speaking now. You are under arrest by order of the Soviet. Arrest! The word was screamed. Me? You are plotting against the revolution and your wickedness has been discovered, said Bulba. Matinshka, little mamma, it is ordered. You lie, you lie, she screeched. You blind devil, I spit on you. You'll arrest me because you want the aristocrat, Irene Yaroslav, blind pig. Preka Zena, Dushinka. It is ordered, dear little soul, murmured Bulba, I go back alone. Listen, my auto is turning. I go back alone, Dushka, and who shall be my eyes? Now that my little mamma is gone. They heard the chair push back as he rose and the scream flurry as she leapt at him. Keep her away, little comrade, rod Bulba, keep her away. I am blind, her father blinded me, keep her away. It was Cherry Bim who slipped first from the cupboard. Under the menace of his guns the soldiers fell back. Auto Ruski, hold up the guard, hey, he muttered, and Maninkov jumped through the doorway to the step of the big car in one bound. Cherry held the room. He spoke no Russian, but his guns were multilingual. There was a shot outside before he fired three times into the room. Then he fell back, slamming the door and jumped into the car as it moved through the open gateway. Malcolm was on one footboard, Maninkov by the side of the chauffeur on the other. So they rocked through the ill paved streets of Moscow and rushed the suburban barricade without mishap. End of Chapter 13 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 14 of the Book of All Power by Edgar Wallace This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 14 in the Holy Village Priyob Pajensky, but by a circuitious root, said Maninkov, speaking across the chauffeur, what about the wires? He looked up at the telegraph lines looping from pole to pole, and Malcolm thrust his head into the window of the limousine to communicate this danger to the cyberetic Mr. Bim, who was spraying himself with perfume from a bottle he'd found in the well-equipped interior of the car. Stop! said Cherry. We're well away from Moscow. At a word from Maninkov, the chauffeur brought the car to a standstill and Cherry slept out, revolver in hand. Then to the amazement of Malcolm and the unfamed admiration of the general, Cherry Bim made good his boast, four times his gun cracked, and at each shot a line broke. To be repeated as intervals, said Cherry, climbing into the car, waked me in half an hour, and curling himself up in the luxurious depths or swans-down cushions, he fell asleep. Happily Maninkov knew the country to an inch. They were not able to avoid the villages without avoiding the roads, but they circumnavigated the towns at nightfall they were in the depths of a wood, which ran down to the edge of the big lake on which the holy village of Priyapodzhensky stands. The chauffeur is not the difficulty I thought he would be, reported Maninkov. He used to drive Cornilov in the days when he was a divisional general, and he is willing to throw in his lot with ours. Can you trust him? asked Malcolm. I think so, said Maninkov. Unless we shoot him, we simply must trust him. What do you think, Mr. Bim? You can call me Cherry, said that worthy. He was eating bread and sour cheese, which had been bought at a fabulous price in one of the villages through which they had passed. Here again they might have been compelled to enact, which would have called attention to their lawless character, for they had no money had it not been for Cherry. He financed the party from the lining of his waistcoat. Malcolm remembered that little man had never discarded his garment, sleeping or waking, and made a casual reference to the diamonds, which had gone to his account via a so distant princess and the favourite of a commissary. Anyway, he said, we could have got it from the chauffeur. He's open to reason. They did not ask him what argument he would have employed, but they were glad subsequently that these arguments had not been used. What was as necessary as food was petrol. Peter the chauffeur said that they were big army supplies in Priyapurjensky itself, and undertook to steal sufficient to keep the car running for a week. They waited until it was dark before they left the cover of the wood and walked in single fire along a car track to the half a dozen blinking lights that stood for Priyapurjensky. The car they had pulled into deeper cover, marking the place with a splinter of mirror broken from its silver frame. Nothing like a mirror, explained Cherry Bim, you've only to strike a match and it shows a light for you. The way was a long one, but presently they came to a good road which crossed the track at right angles, but which curved round until it ran parallel with the path they had followed. There is the military store, whispered the chauffeur. I will go now, my little general. I trust you, Durshka, said Malenkov. By the head of my mother I will not betray you, said the man, and disappeared in the darkness. After this they held a council of war. So far as I can remember, Petrov is the silk merchant, said Malenkov, and his house is the first big residence we reached coming from this direction. I remember it because I was on duty at the coronation of the Emperor and his Imperial Majesty came to Prypajensky, which is a sacred place for the royal house. Peter the Great lived here. Luck was with them, for they had not gone far before they heard a voice bellowing a mournful song and came up with its owner, a worker in the silk mills. They had long since ceased to work, who was under the influence of methylated spirit, a favourite tipple since vodka had been eukast out of existence. Ivan Petrov, son of Ivan, he hickoffed. Yes, my little dove, it is there. He is a bourgeois and an aristocrat, and there is no Tsar and no God, Prykhenzerio, it is ordered by the Soviet. And he began to weep, no Tsar and no God long lived the revolution. Evivo, no blessed saints and no Tsar, and I was of the Rasshulnik. They left him weeping by the roadside. The Rasshulniks are the dissenters of Russia. This village was a hot bed of them, but they've gone the way of the rest, said Malenkov sadly. The house they approached was a big wooden structure, ornamented with perfectly useless cupolas and domes, so that Malcolm thought at first that this was one of the innumerable churches in which the village abounded. There was a broad flight of wooden stairs leading to the door, but this they avoided. A handful of gravel at a likely looking up a window seemed a solution. The response was immediate. Though no light appeared, the window swung open and the voice asked softly, Who is that? Far from Irene answered Malcolm in the same tone. The window closed and presently they heard a door unfastened and followed the sound along the path which ran close to the house. It was a small side door that was opened and Malcolm led the way through. Then visible hosts closed the door behind them and they heard the clink of a chain. If you have not been here before, keep straight on, touching the wall with your right hand, where its stops turned sharply to the right, said the unknown rapidly. They followed his directions and found the branch passage. Wait! said the voice. The man passed them. They heard him turn a handle. Straight ahead you will find the door. They obeyed and their conductor struck a match and lit an oil lamp. They were in the long room. They guessed that by the glow of the closed stove they had seen as they entered. The windows were heavily shuttered and curtain and even the door was hidden under a thick poutierre. The man who had brought them in was middle-aged and poorly dressed. But then this was a time when everybody in Russia was poorly dressed and his shabbiness did not preclude the possibility of his being the proprietor of the house as indeed he was. He was eyeing them with suspicion, not wholly unjustified, for the patent respectability of Cherry Darby's hat was no compensation for the armory belted round his rotund middle. But when the man's eyes fell upon Malenkov his whole demeanour changed and in advance without stretched hand. General Malenkov, he said, you remember me, I entertain you all at... At Kiev, of course, smiled Malenkov. I did not know the Ivan Petrov of Moscow was the Ivan of the Ukraine. Now, gentlemen, what is your wish, asked the man and Malenkov explained the object of the visit. Petrov looked serious. Of course, I would do anything her highness wishes, he said. I saw her yesterday and she told me that she had a dear friend in St. Basil. Malenkov tried to look unconcerned under Malenkov's scrutiny and failed, but I think she wished you to meet another guest. He paused. I had gone into Moscow tonight against my wishes, he said, with trouble in his face. Such an old man! Kensky, said Malcolm quickly. Kensky. The tone was short. I told him that no good would come of it. Her highness was married tonight. Malcolm took a step forward, but it was an unsteady step. Married, he repeated. To whom was she married? Down at the floor, as though he dare not meet the eye of any man, and say so monstrous a thing. To the servant Bulba, he said. Arin Yaroslav came back to the home which had always been associated in her mind with unhappy memories to meet the culminating disaster which fate had wrought. Whatever thoughts of escape she may have treasured in secret were cut into by the sure knowledge that she was watched day and night and were now finally terminated by the discovery that the big apartment house a suite of which Bulba had taken for her disposal when he had asked her from her father's house was practically in possession of the Soviet guard. She drove to the palace with an undisguised escort of mounted men, one on either side of the carriage, one before and one behind, and went up the stairs, those grim stairs which had frightened her as a child and has filled her nights with dreams, passing on her way the now empty bureau which has been Bulba's whim for her to keep. Maria Badiskaya, an officer of the committee for the suppression of the counter-revolution, formerly an operative in the Moscow cigarette company, was waiting in the small drawing-room which still retained some of its ancient splendour. Maria was a short, stumpy woman with a slight moustache and a wart on her chin in green satin, cut low to disclose her generous figure. About her stiff, cold-black hair was a heavy diamond bandeau. She was sitting on a setee, her feet hardly touching the ground, cleaning her nails with a little pocket-knife as the girl entered. Evidently this was her maid of honour and she could have laughed. The woman glowed up at her and jumped briskly to her feet, closing the knife and slipping it into her corsage. "'You are late, Irene Yaroslav,' she said shrilly. "'I have something better to do than sit here waiting for a bourgeoisie. There is a committee meeting at ten o'clock tonight. How do you imagine I can attend that? Come, come!' she bustled into an anti-room. "'Here is your dress, my little bride. See there is everything, even to stockings.' Bulba has thought of all. Yet he will not see. La, la, what a man!' Numerous articles of attire were laid out on chairs and on the back of the sofa and the girl, looking at them, shuddered. It was Bulba's idea. Nobody but Bulba would have thought of it. Every garment was of red, blood red, a red which seemed to fill the room with harsh sound, stockings of finest silk, shoes of Russian leather, cobweb underwear, but all of the same hideous hue. In Russian the word red is also the word beautiful. In a language in which so many delicate shades of meaning can be expressed, this word serves a double purpose, doing duty for that which, in the eyes of civilised people, is garish, and that which is almost divine. Maria's manner changed suddenly. From the impatient, slightly pompous official, conscious of her position, she became obsequious and even affectionate. Possibly she remembered that the girl was to become the wife of the most powerful man in Moscow, whose word was amply sufficient to send even Gregory Prodole to the execution-yard, and Gregory's position seemed unassailable. I was hurt which addressed, my little dear, she said, Let me take your hat, my little dove. I would rather be alone, said the girl. Will you please wait in the next room, Maria Badeskaya? But I can help you so, my little darlings, said the woman fussing about. A bride has no luck for thirty years if she puts on her own stockings. Go! said the girl imperiously, and the woman cringed. So suddenly her excellency stammered and went out without another word. The girl changed quickly and surveyed herself in the peer-glass at the end of the room. It was striking but horrible. There came a tap at the door and the agitated Maria entered. He has sent for you, my little dove, she said, Come, take my arm, do not tremble, my little pretty. Bulba is a good man and the greatest man in Moscow. She would have taken the girl's arm, but Irene waved her aside and walked swiftly from the drawing-room into the grand saloon. She wanted the ordeal over as soon as possible. The room was crowded and though many of the electric lamps in the great glass chandelier were in not-in-working order and a broken fuse had put half the wall brackets in darkness, the light was almost dazzling. This wonderful saloon, where ten czars had eaten bread and salt with ten generations of Yeltsinars, was thick with humanity. Some of the men were in uniform, some were in a nondescript costume, which was the Soviet compromise between evening dress and diplomatic uniform. One man wore a correct evening jacket and a white waistcoat with a perfectly stark shirt over uniform trousers and top boots. The women were as weirdly clothed. Some were shabby to the point of rags. A few wore caught dresses of the approved pattern and there was one woman dressed like a man who smoked all the time. The air was blue with tobacco smoke and buzzing with sound. As she came into the saloon, someone shouted her name and there was vigorous applause. Not for her, she knew, nor for the name she bore, but for the novelty and the beauty of her wedding gown. At the farther end of the room was a table covered with a red cloth and behind it sat a man in evening dress whom she recognised as one of the newly appointed magistrates of the city. Nudged behind by Maria, she made her way through the press of people whose admiring comments were spoken large enough for her to hear. What a little beauty! Too good for a blind man, eh? We have knelt for her many times. Now she shall kneel for us. Such a dress! This bulber is a wonderful fellow. She halted before the table her hands clasped lightly in front of her. Her head was high and she met every glance steadily and disdainfully. The clock struck a quarter after ten when Bulba made his entrance amidst a storm of applause. They had never seen him in such a uniform before. Some thought it was a new costume which had been sanctioned by the Supreme Soviet for its commissaries, others that it had been planned especially for the marriage. Irene alone knew it and a cold, disdainful smile lit for a moment her expressionless face. She had seen Bulba in knee britches and white silk stockings before. She knew the coat of green and gold which the retainers of the House of Yaroslav War on state occasions. Bulba was marrying her in his butler's livery, a delicate piece of vengeance. The ceremony was short and to the girl unreal, religious marriages, though they had not altogether been banned, were regarded by the official Russia as unnecessary and a new marriage service had been designed which confined the ceremony to the space of a few minutes. The attempts to abolish marriage altogether had been strenuously opposed not so much by the public women who were on the innumerable councils and committees but by the wives of the more important members of the organisation. Bulba was led to her side and reached out his hand grovingly and in very pity of his blindness she took it. Questions were asked him to which he responded and similar questions were asked her to which she made no reply. The whole ceremony was a fast and she had agreed to it only because it gave her a little extra time and every minute counted. From the moment the magistrate pronounced the formula which made them in the eyes of the Soviet lord at any rate, man and wife, Bulba never loosened his hold of her. He held her hand in his own big hot palm until it was wet and her fingers lost all feeling. From group to group they moved and when they crossed the dancing space of the saloon the revelers stepped aside to allow the man to pass. She noticed that in the main they confined themselves to country dances some of which were new to her and all the time Bulba kept up a continuous conversation in an undertone pinching her hand gently whenever he wanted to attract her attention. Tell me, my new eyes, my little pigeon of God, what are they doing now? Do you see Mishka Gurky? She is a silly woman. Tell me, my little pet, if you see her. Watch her well and tell me how she looks at me. That woman is an enemy of the revolution and a friend of Sofia Kensky. Aha! It is sad about your poor friends. The girl turned cold and clenched her teeth to take the news which was coming. They tried to escape and they were shot down by our brave guard. I would have pardoned them for your sake all but the thief who broke the jaw of comrade Alex Alexandrov. Yes, I would have pardoned them tonight because I am happy. Else they would have died with Sofia Kensky in the morning. Do not please you that I put away this woman who was my eyes and saw for me all for your sake, my little pigeon, all for your sake. Do you see a big man with one eye? He has half my misfortune, yet he sees a million times more than Bulba. That is the butcher Kreml. Someday he shall see the Kreml. Footnote. Kreml is literally Kremlin, one of the places of detention in Moscow. End of footnote. Why should you not speak, my darling little mamma? Are you thinking of the days when I was Bulba, the slave, nah, nah, stoi, think of today to-night, my little child of Jesus? There were times when she could have screamed, moments of madness when she longed to pick up one of the champagne bottles which littered the floor and that intervals were thrown with a crash into the corner of the room and striking across that great, brutal face. There were times when she was physically sick and the room spun round and round and she would have fallen but for the man's arm. But the hours she dreaded most of all came at last when, one by one, with coarse jests at her expense, the motley company melted away and left her alone with the man. They have all gone, he asked eagerly. Every one. He clutched more tightly. To my room we have a supper for ourselves. They are pigs, all these fellows, my little beautiful. The old carpet was still on the stairs, she noticed, darling. Up above used to be her own room at the far end of the long passage. She had a piano there once. She wondered whether it was still there. There used to be a servant at the head and at the foot of these stairs. A long green-coated cossack to pass whom, without authority, was to court death. The room on the left had been her father's. Two big saloons separated by heavy silk and curtains. His bureau was at one end, his bedroom at the other. It was into the bureau that the man groped his way. A table had been set, crowded with bottles and glasses, piled with fruit, sweetmeats and at the end the inevitable samovar. I will lock the door, said Vauban. Now you shall kiss me on the eyes and on the mouth and on the cheeks, making the Holy Cross. She braced herself for the effort and wrenched free. In the flash she came at her and his hands caught the silk and gown at her shoulder. She twisted under his arm, leaving a length of tattered and torn silk in his hand and the marks of his fingernails upon her white shoulder. He stopped and laughed, a low gurgling laugh and it was to the goal like the roar of some subterranean river heard from afar. Oh, highness, he mocked. Would you rob a blind man of his bride? Then let us be blinding together. He blundered to the door. There was a click and the room was in darkness. I am better than you now, he said. I hear you in the dark. I can almost see you. You are by the corner of the table. Now you are pushing a chair. Little pigeon, come to me. Whilst he was talking she was safe because she could locate him. It was when he was silent that she was filled with wild fear. He moved as softly as a cat and it seemed that his boast of seeing in the dark was almost justified. Once his hand brushed her and she shrank back only just in time. The man was breathing heavily now and the old mocking terms of endearment had changed. Come to me, Arin Yaroslav, he roared. Have I not often run to you? Have I not waited throughout the night to take your raps and bring you coffee? Now you shall wait on me by Inokente. You shall be eyes and hands for me and when I am tired of you you shall go the way of Sofia Kensky. She was edging her way to the door. Once she could switch on the light she was safe at any rate for the time being. There was a long silence and, try as she did, she could not locate him. He must have been crouching near the door anticipating her move for as her hand fell on the switch and the light sprang into being he leapt at her. She saw him but too late to avoid his whirling hands. In a second he had her in his arms. The man was half mad. He cursed and blessed her alternately calling her his little pigeon and his little devil in the same breath. She felt the tickle of his beard against her bare shoulder and strove to push him off. Come, my little peach, he said, who shall say there is no justice in Russia when Yaroslav's daughter is the bride of Bulba. His back was to the curtain and he was half lifting, half drawing her to the two grey strips which marked its division when the girls screamed. Again, again, my little dear, Grin Bulba, that is fine music. But it was not her own danger which had provoked the cry. It was that vision twice seen in her lifetime of dead white hands, blue veined coming from the curtain and holding this time a scarlet cord. It was about Bulba's neck before he realised what had happened. With a strangled cry he released the girl and she fell back again on the table overturning it with a crash. This way, Highness said a hollow voice and she darted through the curtains. She heard the shock of Bulba's body as it fell to the ground and then Israel Kensky darted past her, flung open the door and pushed her through. The servants way, he said, and she ran to the narrow staircase which led below to the kitchen and above to the attics in which the servants snapped. Down the stairs, two at a time, she raced the old man behind her. The stairway ended in a square hall. There was a door half a jar leading to the kitchen which was filled with merry-makers and a second door leading into the street and this was also open. She knew the way blindfolded. They were in what had been the coach yard of the palace and she knew there were half a dozen ways into the street. Israel chose the most unlikely one which led to the front of the house. Adroski was waiting and she stumbled her jumping in by her side holding her about the waist as the driver whipped up his two horses and sped through the deserted streets of Moskva. End of Chapter 15 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 16 of The Book of All Power by Edgar Wallace This Libyrux recording is in the public domain. Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 16 The Book of All Power Malcolm was the first to hear the sound of wheels on the roadway and the party listened in silence till a low whistle sounded and their host darted out of the room. What was that? asked Malenkov. Somebody has come to the front door. A few minutes later Petrov staggered through the doorway carrying the limp figure of Irene. It was Malcolm who took the girl in his arms and laid her upon the sofa. She is not dead said a voice behind him. He looked up. It was Israel Kenski. The old man looked white and ill. He took the glass of wine which Ivan brought him with a shaking hand and wiped his beard as he looked down at the girl. There was neither friendliness nor pity in his glance only the curious tranquility which comes to the face of a man who has done that which he set out to do. What a vulva asked Petrov eagerly. I think he lived said Kenski and shook his head. I am too weak and too old a man to have killed him. I put the cord about his neck and twisted it with a stick. If he can loosen the cord he will live. If he cannot he will die but I think he was too strong a man to die. Did he know it was you? asked Petrov. Kenski shook his head. What is the hour, he asked and they told him that it was two o'clock. Sophia Kenski dies at four, he said in such a tone of unconcern that even Malenkov stared at him. It is right that she should die, said Kenski and they marveled at he who addressed his life to save one of the class which had persecuted his people for hundreds of years should speak in so matter of fact tones about the fate of his own blood. She betrayed her race and her father. It is the old law of Israel and it is a good law. I am going to sleep. Is there a chance that you have been followed asked Malenkov and Kenski pulled at his beard thoughtfully. I fasted watching at the barricade and he was awake that is the only danger. He beckoned to Malcolm and Lothar the young man was forced to leave the girl's side now that she was showing some signs of recovering consciousness. He accompanied the old man from the room. Gospodar, said Israel Kenski it sounded strange to hear that old title. Once you carried a book for me. I remember Malcolm smiled in spite of himself. The book of all power repeated the Jew quietly. It is in my room and I shall ask you to repeat your service. That book I would give to the Grand Duchess for I have neither kiss nor child and she has been kind to me. But surely Kenski protested Malcolm you as an intelligent man do not believe in the potency of books or charms of incantations. I believe in the book of all power said Kenski calmly. Remember it is to become the property of the Grand Duchess Irene I do not think I have long to live he added. How my death will come I cannot tell but it is not far off will you go with me now and take the book? Malcolm hesitated. He wanted to get back to the girl but it would have been an ungracious act not to humour the old man who had risked so much for the woman he loved. He climbed the stairs to the little bedroom and waited at the door whilst Kenski went in. Presently the old man returned. The book was now stitched in a canvas wrapping and Malcolm slipped the book into his pocket. The very act recalled another scene which had been acted a thousand miles away and it seemed a million years ago. Now let us go down said Kenski. Lord he asked as Malcolm's foot was on the stair do you love this young woman? It would have been the surest affectation on his part to have evaded the question. Yes Israel Kenski he replied I love her and the old man bowed his head you are two Gentiles and there is less difference in rank than in race he said I think you will be happy may the gods of Jacob and of Abraham and of David rest upon you rest be you Amen Never had benediction been pronounced upon him that felt so real all that brought such surprising comfort to the soul of Malcolm Hay he felt as if in that dingy stairway he had received a very gird on of manhood and he went downstairs spiritually strengthened and every doubt in his mind set at rest. The girl half rose from the couch as he came to her and in her queer impulsive way put out both her hands five minutes before he might have hesitated he might have been content to feel the warmth of her palms upon his but now he knelt down by her side and slipping one arm about her drew her head to his shoulder he heard the long drawn sigh of happiness he felt her arm grief about his neck and he forgot the world and all the evil and menace it held he forgot the grave Malenkov the interested Cherry Bim still wearing his Derby hat on the back of his head and girt about with the weapons of his profession he forgot everything except that the world was worth living for there lay in his arms a fragrant and a beautiful thing it was Petrov who put an end to the little scene I have sent food into the wood for you he said and my man has come back to tell me that your chauffeur is waiting by the car he has all the petrol that he requires and I do not think you should delay too long the girl struggled to a sitting position and looked with dismay at her scarlet bridal dress I cannot go like this she said I have your trunk in the house Highness said Petrov and the girl jumped up with a little cry of joy I have forgotten that she said she had forgotten also that she was still weak for she swayed and would have stumbled had not Malcolm caught her go quickly Highness said Petrov urgently I do not think it would be safe to stay here safe for you or for Kenskiy I have sent one of my men on a bicycle to watch the Moscow road is that necessary I asked Malenkov are you suspect Petrov nodded if Bulba learns that Kenskiy passed this way he will guess that it is to me that he came I was in the service of the Grand Duke and if it were not for the fact that a former workman of mine is now assistant minister of justice in Petrograd I should have been arrested long ago if Bulba finds Israel Kenskiy here or the Grand Duchess nothing can save me my only hope is to get your way before there is a search understand little general he said earnestly if you had not the car I would take all the risks and let you stay until you were found that seems unnecessary said Malenkov I quite agree what do you say Kenskiy the old man who had followed Malcolm down the stair nodded I should have shot Bulba he said thoughtfully but it would have made too much noise you should have used a knife little farther said Petrov but Kenskiy shook his head he wears chain armour under his clothes he said all the commissaries do preparations for the journey were hurriedly made the girls trunk had proved a veritable storehouse and she came down in a short tweed skirt and coat her glorious hair hidden under a black tamashanta and Malcolm could scarcely take his eyes from her you have a coat said the practical Malenkov that is good you may need it crash it was the sound of a rifle but against the door which struck them dumb muffled by the thick wood the voice of the knocker yet came clearly open in the name of the revolution Petrov blinked twice and on his face was a look as though he could not believe his ears the girl shrank to Malcolm's side and Malenkov stroked his beard softly only Cherry Bim seemed to realise the necessities of the moment and he pulled both guns simultaneously and laid them noiselessly on the table before him oh fun in the name of the revolution a hiss from Kenskiy brought them round he beckoned them through the door by which they had made their original entry to the room and pointed to the light he gripped Petrov by the shoulder upstairs to your bedroom friend he said put on your night-shirt and talk to them through the window down the two passages they passed and came to the little door which Kenskiy unchained and opened he put his lips close to Malenkov's ears do you remember the way you came he asked and the general nodded and led the way last but one came Cherry Bim a forty-five in each hand a forty-five in each hand there were no soldiers in view at the back of the house but Malenkov could hear their feet on some unknown outside road and realised that the house was in process of being surrounded and had the man who knocked at the door waited until this encirclement had been completed there would have been no chance of escape they struck the main road and found the cart-track leading to the wood and none challenged them there was no sound from the house and apparently their flight had not been discovered Kenskiy brought up the rear in spite of Cherry's frenzied injunctions delivered in the four words of Russian which he knew to get a move on they had reached the fringe of the wood when the challenge came out of the shadow rode a horseman and brought his charger across the path HALT he cried the party halted all except Cherry who stepped from the path and moved swiftly forward crouching low to give the sentry no background who is that? asked the man on the horse speak or I'll fire he done slung his carbine and they heard the click of the bolt as the breach opened and closed we are friends little father said Malenkov give me your name said the sentry and Malenkov recited with glib ease a list of Russian patronymics that is a lie said the man calmly you are bourgeois I can tell by your voices and without further warning he fired into the thick of them the second shot which came from the night followed so quickly upon the first that for the second time in like circumstances the girl thought only one had been fired but the soldier on the horse swayed and slid to the earth before she knew what had happened go right ahead said the voice of Cherry Bim he had caught the bridle of the frightened horse and had drawn him aside they quickened their steps and came up to the car which the thoughtful chauffeur had already cranked up at the sound of the shots where is Kensky asked Malcolm suddenly did you see him Cherry a pause why no said Cherry I didn't see him after the lamented tragedy we can't leave the old man said Malcolm wait said the little gunman I will go back and look for him five minutes ten parts and still there was no sign or sound of Israel Kensky or of Cherry then a shot broke the stillness of the night and another and another two rifles and one revolver said Malinkov get into the car Highness are you ready Peter there was another shot and then a fuselage then came slow footsteps along the cart track and the sound of a man's windy breathing take him somebody said Cherry Malinkov lifted the inanimate figure from Cherry's shoulder and carried him into the car a voice from the darkness shouted a command there was a flash of fire and a zip of a bullet let her go Percy said Cherry and blazed away with both guns into the darkness he leapt for the football and made it by a miracle and only once did they hear him cry as if in pain he asked Malcolm anxiously No, drawed the voice jerkily for the road hereabouts was full of holes and even speech was as impossible as even riding No, he said I nearly lost my hat he spoke only once again that night except to refuse the offer to ride inside the car he preferred the football and explained that as a youth it had been his ambition to be a fireman I wonder he said suddenly breaking the silence of nearly an hour What do you wonder? who sat nearest to the window where Cherry stood I wonder what happened to that boy on the bicycle End of chapter 16 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 17 of the book of all power by Edgar Wallace this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 17 on the road Israel Kentski died at five o'clock in the morning they had made a rough attempt to dress the wound in his shoulder but had they been the most skillful of surgeons with the best appliances which modern surgery had invented at their hands they could not have saved his life he died literally in the arms of Irene he buried him in a little forest on the edge of a sluggish stream and Cherry Vim unconsciously delivered the funeral oration this poor old guy was a good fellow he said he ain't got nothing on the Jews as a class except their habit of prosperity and that just gets to go to people like me who hate working for a living he was straight and white and that's all you can expect any man to be or any woman either to expect to you miss if any of you gents would care to utter a few words of prayer you'll get a patient hearing from me because I am naturally a broad minded man it was the girl who knocked by the grave the tears streaming down her cheeks but what she said none heard Cherry Vim holding his hat crowned outward across his breast produced the kind of face which he thought adequate to the occasion and after the party had left the spot he stayed behind he rejoined them after a few minutes and he was putting away his pocket knife as he ran sorry to keep you ladies and gents he said but I am a sentimental man in certain matters I always have been and always shall be what were you doing asked Malcolm as the car bumped along Cherry Vim cleared his throat and seemed embarrassed well to tell you the truth he said and made a little cross and stuck it over his head but began Malcolm and the girl's hand closed his mouth thank you Mr. Vim she said it was very very kind of you nothing wrong I hope asked Cherry an alarm nothing wrong at all said the girl gently the cross over the grave of the Jew was to give them a day's respite Israel Kentski had left behind him in the place where he fell a fur hat bearing his name from the quantity of blood which the pursuers found they knew that he must have been mortally wounded and it was for a grave by the wayside that the pursuing party searched and found it was the cross at his head which deceived them and led them to take the ford and try along the main road to the south of the river on the banks of which Kentski slept his last dreamless sleep the danger for the fugitives was evident the most we can hope said Malenkov to escape detection for two days after which we must abandon the car which way do you suggest as Malcolm Poland or the Ukraine replied to general quickly the law of the Moscow Soviet does not run in little Russia or in Poland we may get to Odessa but obviously we cannot go much farther like this I have or had he corrected himself and the state about 70 verse from here and I think I can still depend on some of my people if they are only left alive the car we must get rid of but that I think will be a simple matter they were now crossing a wide plain which reminded Malcolm irresistibly of the steps of the Ukraine and apparently had recalled the same scene to Irene and Malenkov there was the same sweep of grassland the same rise of flowers Janista Cornflower and Clover dabbled the green the poverty stricken birches stood in lonely patches here is the Russia which the plough has never touched said Malenkov does it not seem to you amazing that the Americans and British who go forth to seek new colonies should lure our simple people to foreign countries where the mode of living the atmosphere is altogether different from this when here at their doors is a new land undiscovered and unexploited he broke off his homily to look out of the window of the car he had done that at least a dozen times in the past half hour we're going fairly far said Malcolm do you not think anything will overtake us on the road no said Malenkov but I'm rather nervous crossing the plain where there is practically no cover at all and the car is raising clouds of dust nervous of what aeroplane said Malenkov look there is a pleasant little wood I suggest that we get under cover until night falls the next village is Truboyisk which is a large market centre and is certain to hold local offices of the Moscow Soviet both his apprehensions and his judgement were justified for scarcely had the car crept into the cover of green boughs then a big aeroplane was sighted it was following the road and at hardly a hundred feet above them it passed with a roar they watched it until it was a speck in the sky they are taking a lot of trouble for a very little thing Russia must be law abiding if they turn their aeroplanes loose on a party of fugitive criminals Bulva has told his story said Malenkov significantly by this time you are not only enemies of the revolution but you are accredited agents of capitalistic governments you have been sent here by your president to stir up the bourgeois to cast down the government because of British investments Mr. Boon will be described as a secret service agent who has been employed to assassinate either Trotsky or Lenin if you could only tap the official wireless said Malenkov you would learn that a serious counter-revolutionary plot has been discovered and that American financiers are deeply involved unless of course corrected Malenkov comes to be in favour in Petrograd in which case it will be English financiers Malcolm laughed then we are an international incident he said you are an international incident agreed Malenkov gravely Cherry Bim sitting on the steps smoking a long cigar a box of which Petroff had given him as a parting present looked up blowing out a blue cloud a secret service agent he said that's a sort of fly cop isn't it that's about it Cherry replied Malcolm and do you think they'll call me a fly cop said he interested Cherry Malenkov nodded and the gunman chewed on his cigar time brings its revenges don't it he said never oh never did I think that I should be took for a fellow from the central office it only shows you that if a guy continues on the broad path that leads to destruction and only goes enough he'll find Mrs Nemesis I think that's the name of the dame Malenkov strolled to the edge of the wood and came back hurriedly the aeroplane is returning he said and it is accompanied by another this time neither machine took the direct route they were sweeping the country methodically from side to side and Malenkov particularly noticed that they circled about a smaller wood two miles away and seemed loath to leave it what colour is the top of this car he asked and Bim climbed up white he said is there time to put on a little of this camouflage I've heard so much about the party set to work in haste to tear down small branches of trees and scraps of bushes and heap them on top of the car Cherry Bim who had the instinct of deception superintending the actual masking of the roof and as the sun was now setting detected a new danger let all the windows down said Cherry put a coat over the glass screen and sit on anything that shines they heard the roar of the aeroplane coming nearer and crouched against the trunk of a tree suddenly there was a deafening explosion which stunned the girl and threw her against Malcolm she half rose to run but he pulled her down what was it she whispered a small bomb said Malcolm it is an old trick of airmen when they are searching woods for concealed bodies of infantry somebody is bound to run out and give the others away Cherry Bim fondling his long colt was looking glumly at the cloud of smoke which was billowing forth from the place where the bomb had dropped round and round circled the aeroplane but presently as if satisfied with its scrutiny it made off and the drone of the engine grew fainter and fainter was hell said Cherry wiping his pallid face with a hand that shook I can't quite understand it said Malinkov even supposing that Bulba has told his story there seems to be a special reason for this urgent search they would of course have communicated he fell silent has Bulba any special reasons other than those we know he asked Malcolm remembered the book of all power and nodded have you something of Kenskis asked Malinkov quickly not that infernal book he looked so anxious that Malcolm laughed yes I have that infernal book as a matter of fact it is the infernal book of the grand duchess now mine she said in surprise Kenskis last words to me were that this book should become your property said Malcolm and she shivered all my life seems to have been associated with the search for that dreadful book she said I wonder if it is one of Kenskis own binding you know she went on that Israel Kenskis bound books for a hobby he bound six for me and they were most beautifully decorated he was a rich man was he not asked Malcolm she shook her head he was penniless when he died she said quietly every store of his confiscated and his money was seized by order of the new government I once asked him definitely why he did not turn to his book of all power for help he told me the time had not yet come may I see the book Malcolm took the volume with its canvas cover from his pocket and the girl looked at it seriously do you know I have a half mind to throw it into the fire she said pointing to the smouldering wood bomb had fallen there seemed something sinister something ominous about its possession that fills me with terror she looked at it for a moment musingly then handed it back to Malcolm poor Israel she said softly and poor Russia they waited until darkness fell before they moved on Malenkov had an idea that there was a cross road before the town was reached and progress was slow in consequence because he was afraid of passing it he was determined now not to go through the village which lay directly ahead the fact that the airplane had been able to procure a recruit pointed to the existence of a camp of considerable dimensions in the neighbourhood and he was anxious to keep away from armed authority it was a tense hour they spent tense for all except Cherry Bim who had improvised a cushion on the baggage carrier of the car and had to fix himself so that he could doze without falling off the side road did not appear and Malenkov grew more and more apprehensive there were no lights ahead as there should be if he were approaching the village once he thought he saw dark figures crouching close to the ground as the car passed but put this down to nerves 500 yards beyond he discovered that his eyes had not deceived him a red light appeared in the centre of the road and against the skyline for they were ascending a little incline at the moment a number of dark figures sprang into view the chauffeur brought the car to a halt with a jerk only just in time for his lamps jarred against a pole which had been placed across the road Malcolm had drawn his revolver but the odds were too heavy besides which in bringing his car to a standstill the driver had shut off his engine and the last hope of bunking through had disappeared a man carrying a red lamp came to the side of the car and flashed the light of a torch over the occupants 1234 he counted there should be five he peered at them separately this is the aristocrat general this is the American revolutionary this is the woman there is also a criminal did any man jump out he asked somebody in the darkness and there was a chorus of no! after coming along the road the guard which had been waiting to close them in from the rear was now coming up the man with the lamp who appeared to be an officer made a circuit of the car and discovered the carrier seat but its occupant had vanished there was a man here you fools he shouted search the road he cannot have gone far look he put the light on the road there are his boots he searched quickly Malcolm at the girl's side put his arm about her shoulder you are not afraid he said gently and she shook her head I do not think I should ever be afraid again she replied I have faith in God my dear Cherry has escaped she asked I think so he replied in a guarded tone he must have seen the soldiers and jumped they have just found his boots in the roadway the officer came back at that moment you have weapons he said give them to me it would have been madness to disobey the order and Malcolm handed over his revolver and Malenkov followed suit not satisfied with this the man turned him out in the road whilst he conducted a search get back he said after this was over you must go before the commissary for judgement the woman is required in Moscow but we should deal some errorly the foreigner and Malenkov also the little thief when we find him he addressed the chauffeur I shall sit by your side and if you do not carry out my instructions I shall shoot you through the head little pigeon he said get down and start your machine End of Chapter 17 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 18 of the Book of All Power by Edgar Wallace chapter 18 is in the public domain Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 18 the monastery of St. Vassel the leper he gave an order to the soldiers and the barrier was removed then he struck a latch and lit a flare which burnt a dazzling red flame for half a minute a signal said Malenkov probably to notify our capture a few minutes later with the soldier on either footboard and the officer sitting beside the chauffeur the car sped through the night checking only before it came to the crossroads which Malenkov had sought for turning to the left the car swung into a road narrow and less comfortable for the passengers I wonder if they will catch our brave friend said the girl they will be sorry if they do replied Malcolm Dryley caught as we were ahead of them and to the right apparently on a hill by their height a dozen fires were burning and Malenkov judged that the camp they were approaching was one of considerable size he guessed it was a concentration camp where the Reds were preparing for their periodical offensive against the Ukraine it must be somewhere in this district that Polish commissioners were negotiating with the Supreme Government an event which had set Moscow a gog an eerie experience this riding through the dark the figures of the soldier guards on either footboard gripping to the posts of the car bump bump bump bump it went swaying and jolting and then one of the guards fell off they expected him to jump on the footboard again for the auto was going at a slow pace but to their surprise he did not reappear then a similar accident happened to the man on the other footboard he suddenly let go of his hold and fell backwards what on earth said Malcolm look, look, whispered the girl a foot and a leg had appeared opposite the window and it came from the roof of the car then another foot and a bulk of a body against the night it's cherry whispered the girl swiftly he passed the window and came to the side of the officer whose head was turned to the chauffeur Rusky said cherry Stoy! Stop was one of the four Russian words he knew and the chauffeur obeyed just at the moment when the car came to where the road split into two one running to the right and apparently to the camp the other to the older road dipping down to a misty valley the red officer saw the gun under his nose and took intelligent action his two hands went up and his revolver fell with a clatter at the chauffeur's feet deathly cherry relieved him of the remainder of his arms by this time Malcolm was out of the car and a brief counsel of war was held to leave the man there would be to ask for trouble to shoot him was repugnant even to cherry who had constituted himself the official assassin of the party we shall have to take him along there are plenty of places where we can leave him in the night and so long as he does not know which way we go I do not think he can do us any harm the red officer took his misfortune with a philosophy which the chauffeur had displayed in similar circumstances I have no malice little general he said I carry out my orders as a soldier should for my part I would as soon cry long live the Tsar as long live the revolution if you are leaving Russia I should be glad to go with you and I may be of service because I know all the latest plans for arresting you there is a barrier on every road even on this which you are taking now unless he added thoughtfully it is removed for the commissary Bulba is he coming this way you saw me fire a flare said the man to the camp that you were captured the news will be telegraphed to Moscow and Bulba will come to sentence the men and take back his wife he evidently spoke in the terms of his instructions what road will he take little soldier asked Malenkov the Tver road said the man it is the direct road from Moscow and we shall cross it very quickly at the crossing are four soldiers and an under officer but no barricade if you would direct me I would tell them a lie and say that we go to meet Bulba we are in his hands to some extent said Malenkov and my advice is that we accept his offer he is not likely to betray us the car resumed its journey and cherry who had taken his place inside explained the miracle which had happened I saw the first lot of soldiers we passed he said and when the car stopped suddenly I knew what had happened I took off my boots and climbed on to the roof I only made it just in time the rest was like eating pie he didn't shoot the soldiers who were standing on the footboard did you ask Malenkov I heard no shots cherry shook his head why shoot him he said I only had to lean over and hit him on the bean with the butt end of my gun and it was a case of where am I nurse half an hour's drive brought them to the crossroads and the four apathetic sentries who at the word of the red officer stood aside to allow the car to pass they were now doubling back on their tracks running power with the railroad according to Malenkov which if the officer's demise was accurate was the one on which Bulba was rushing by train to meet them so far their auto had given them no trouble but 20 miles from the camp both the front tyres punctured simultaneously this might have been unimportant for they carried two spare wheels only it was discovered that one of these was also punctured and had evidently been taken out of use the day on which they secured the car there was nothing to do but to push the machine into a field darken the windows and allow the chauffeur to make his repairs damaged of the tubes they shut him into the interior of the car with the red officer who volunteered his help furnished him with a lamp and walked down the road in the faint hope of discovering some cottage or farm where they could replenish their meagre store of food half an hour's walking brought them to a straggling building which they approached with caution it is too large for a farm said Malenkov it is probably one of those monasteries which exist in such numbers in the Moscow government the place was in darkness and it was a long time before they found the entrance which proved to be through a small chapel sighted in one corner of the wall enclosure the windows of the chapel were high up but Markman thought he detected a faint glow of night in the interior and it was this flicker which guided them to the chapel the door was half open and Malenkov walked boldly in the building though small it was beautiful green malanchite columns held up the groin roof and the walls were white with the deadly whiteness of alabaster a tiny altar on which burnt the conventional three candles fronted them as they entered and the screen glittered with gold a priest knelt before the altar singing in a thin cracked voice so unmusically that the girl winced safer the priest and the party the building was empty he rose at the sound of their footsteps and stood waiting their approach he was a young and singularly ugly man and suspicion and fear were written plainly on his face God save you little brother of saints said Malenkov God save you my son replied the priest mechanically what is it you want we need food and rest for this little lady also hot coffee and we will pay well Malenkov knew that this latter argument was necessary the priest shook his head all the brethren have gone away from the monastery except Father Yurkim who is a timid man Father Nicholas and myself he said we have very little food and none to spare they have eaten everything we had and have killed my pretty chickens he did not say who they were and Malenkov was not sufficiently curious to inquire these were no longer the power in the land that they were in the old days and that there had been innumerable cases where the villagers had risen and slaughtered the men whose words hitherto had been as a law to them a third of the monasteries in the Moscow government had been sucked and burnt and their congregations and offices dispersed he was surprised to find this beautiful chapel still intact but he had not failed to notice the sacred vessels which usually adorned the altar even in the midnight celebrations but you can do nothing for our little mama asked Malenkov the priest shook his head our guests have taken everything he said they have even turned Brother Yurkim from the refractory your guests said Malenkov the priest nodded it is a great prince he said in awe what is happening in the world antichrist is abroad but we know little of such things in the monastery the peasants have been naughty and have broken down our wall slain our martyred brother Matthias we could not find his body he added quickly and brother Yurkim thinks that the Jews have eaten him so that by the consecrated holiness of his flesh they might avert their eternal damnation who is your prince Malcolm hopes bringing in his breast there were still powerful factions in Russia which were grouped about their representatives and relatives of the late reigning house I do not know his name said the priest but I will lead you to him perhaps he has food he extinguished two of the candles on the altar crossing himself all the while he was performing the ceremony then led them through the screen and out at the back of the chapel Malcolm thought he saw a face peering round the door as they approached it and the shadow of a flying form crossing the dark yard possibly the timid father Yurkim he thought running along the wall was a low roof building we are a simple order said the priest and we live simply he had taken a candle lantern before he left the chapel unless he held up to give them a better view narrow half doors the tops being absent set in the face of the building at intervals look he said and pushed the lamp into the black void a stable said Malenkov he might have added a particularly draughty and unpleasant stable there were straw filled mangers and straw littered the floor do you keep many horses the priest shook his head here we sleep he said as directed in a vision granted to our most blessed saint the founder, Saint Basil the Lapper for to him came an angel in the night saying these words why sleepest thou in a fine bed when our lord slept lowly in a stable he led the way across the yard to a larger building his lordship may not wish to be disturbed and if he is asleep I will not wake him how long has he been here after Malcolm since morning repeated the other they were in a stone hall and the priest hesitated then he opened the door cautiously and peeped in the room was well illuminated they could see the hanging kerosene lamps from where they stood come said the priest's voice in a whisper he is awake Malcolm went first the room though bare looked bright and warm a big wood fire blazed in an open hearth and before it stood a man dressed in a long blue military coat his hands thrust into his pockets the hood of the coat was drawn over his head and his attitude was one of contemplation Malcolm approached him excellence he began we are travellers who desire slowly the man turned oh you desire he bellowed what do you desire comrade hey I would tell you what I desire my beautiful little lamb my pretty little wife it was Bulba end of chapter 18 recording by Peter Tomlinson chapter 19 of the book of all power by Edgar Onnes this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Peter Tomlinson chapter 19 the end of Bulba Cherry Vim the last of the party to enter the room made a dash for the door and came face to face with the leveled rifle held in the hands of a soldier who had evidently been waiting the summons of Bulba's shout behind him were three other men Cherry dropped to the ground as the man's rifle went off shooting as he fell and the man tumbled down scrambling to his feet he burst through the doorway like a human cannonball but not even his nimble guns could save him this time the hall was full of soldiers and they bore him down by sheer weight they dragged him into the refectory bleeding and the diversion at any rate had had one good effect only Bulba was there roaring and raging groping a swift way round the walls one hand searching the other guiding where are they he bellowed come to me my little beauty hey I will burn alive little commissary said the leader of the soldiers she is not here they did not pass out search search shouted Bulba striking at the man search you pig we have the other bore shoe stammered the man search yelled Bulba there is a door near the fire is it open the door lay in the shadow and the man ran to look after them after them Bulba held the words and in terror they left their prisoner and flocked out of the door cherry stood in the centre of the room his hand strapped behind his back his shirt half ripped from his body and looked up into the big blinded face which came peering towards him as though by an effort of will it could glimpse his enemy you are there Bulba's hands passed slightly over the gunman's face fell upon his shoulders slipped down the arm is this the thief yes yes this is the thief what is he doing he turned not knowing that the soldiers had left him alone and again his hands passed slightly over cherry's face this is good he said as he felt the bands on the wrists tomorrow little brother you will be dead he might have spared himself his exercise and his reproaches because to cherry bim's untutored ear his reviling was a mere jabber of meaningless words cherry was looking round to find something sharp enough in which to cut the strap which bound him but there was nothing that looked like a knife in the room he knew he had a minute and probably less to make his escape his eyes rested for a moment on the holster at Bulba's belt and he sidestepped where are you going and the heavy hand rested on his shoulder not out of the doorway my little pigeon I am blind but so far he had got when cherry turned in a flash so that his back was towards Bulba he stooped to make a sudden dash backward colliding with the commissary and in that second his hand gripped the gun at Bulba's waist there was a strap across the butt but it broke with a jerk then followed a duel without parallel Bulba pulled his second gun and fired and shooting as blindly cherry fired backward he heard a groan over his shoulder and saw Bulba fall to his knees then he ran for the main door stumbled past the state bedroom of the monks and into the chapel it was his one chance that the priest had returned to his devotions and he found the man on his knees Percy said cherry unfastened that strap the priest understood no language but his own but a gesture the strap was about the wrist blue and swollen and the long revolver needed no explanation the strap fell off and cherry rubbed his wrists he opened the breach of his gun he had four shells left but he was alone against at least 20 men he guessed that Bulba had made the monastery his advance headquarters whilst he was waiting for news of the fugitives and probably not 20 but 200 were within call he reached the road and made for the place where the car had been left if the others had escaped they also would go in that direction he saw no guard or sentry and heard no sound from the wall enclosure of the monastery he struck against something in the roadway and stooped and picked it up it was stitched in a canvas cover and it felt like a book he suddenly remembered the scraps of conversation he had overheard between the girl and Malcolm this then was the book of all power foolishness said Cherry and put it in his pocket but the book showed one thing clearly the others had got away he had marked the place where they had stopped but the car was gone it was too dark to see the tracks but there was no question that it had been here for he found an empty petrol tin and his still air reeked of rubber solution he had need of all his philosophy he was not alone he was not alone he had need of all his philosophy he was in an unknown country a fugitive from justice and that country was teeming with soldiers every road was watched and he had four cartridges between him and Capture there was only one thing to do and that was to go back the way the car had come and he stepped out undauntedly halting now and again to stoop and look along the railway line for he was enough of an old campaigner to know how to secure a skyline then in the distance he saw a regular line of lights and those lights were moving it was a railway train and apparently it was turning a curve for one by one the lights disappeared and only one flicker which he judged was on the engine was visible he bent down again and saw the level horizon of a railway embankment less than 200 yards on his left and remembered that Malinkov had spoken of the Warsaw line he ran at full speed floundering into pools breaking through bushes and finally scrambled up the steep embankment how to board the train seemed a problem which was insufferable if the cars were moving at any speed there was little foothold by the side of the track and undoubtedly the train was moving quickly for now the noise of it was a dull roar and he who was not wholly unacquainted with certain unauthorised forms of travel he judged within a mile an hour the rate it was travelling he fumbled in his pocket and found a match there was no means of making a bonfire the undergrowth was wet and he had not so much as a piece of paper in his pocket the book he thought it out ripped off the canvas cover with his knife and tried to open it the book was locked he discovered but locks were to cherry like pie crust made to be broken a wrench and the covers fell apart all out the first three or four pages struck the match and the flame was touching the corner of the paper when his eyes fell upon the printed words he stood open mouth the flame still burning gazing at the torn leaf until the burning match touched his finger and he dropped it torn between doubts and days as he was the train might have passed him but the light of a match in the still dark night could be seen for miles and he heard the jar of the breaks he pushed the book and the loose leaves into his pocket and ran along the embankment to meet the slowing special for special it was he managed to pass the engine unnoticed then crouching down until the last carriage was of rest he leapt up caught the rail and swung himself onto the rear foot ward up the steel plates which serve as steps to the roof of the carriage just as the train stopped there were excited voices demanding explanations there was a confusion of orders and presently the train moved on gathering speed and cherry had time to think it was still dark when they ran into a little junction and peeping over the side he saw a group of officers descend from a carriage to stretch their legs to them came a volleyball and gesticulating railway official and again there was a confusion of voices he was telling them something and his tone was apologetic almost fearful then to cherry's amazement he heard somebody speak in English it was the voice of a stranger a drawing English voice oh I say let them come on general I wouldn't leave a dog in this country really I wouldn't but it was against all the rules of diplomacy said a gruffer voice in the same language Moses gasped cherry the road led into the station yard and he had seen the car there was no doubt of it the light from one of the train windows was sufficiently strong to reveal it and behind the station master was another little group in the shadow it is a matter of life and death it was Malcolm's voice I must get this lady to the Polish frontier it is an act of humanity I ask English a said the man called the general get on board Malcolm took the girl in his arms before them all go darling he said gently I cannot go without you she said but he shook his head Maninkov and I must wait we cannot leave cherry we are going back to find him I am certain he has escaped I will not leave without you she said firmly you'll all have to come or all have to stay said the Englishman briskly we haven't any time to spare he is now going on you see he said apologetically it isn't our train at all it belongs to the Polish commission and we are only running the food end of the negotiations we have been fixing up turns between the red army and the Poles and it is very irregular that we should take refugees from the country at all go Malcolm heard the horse whisper and it was as much as he could do to stop himself looking up the motor car and Cherry's mysterious and providential appearance from the roof and he could guess the rest very well we will go come Maninkov I will explain in the car said Malcolm they lifted the girl into the carriage and the men followed a shriek from the engine a jerk of the cars and the train moved on before the rear carriage had cleared the platform a car rocked into the station yard dashing through the frail wooden fencing onto the platform itself STOI STOI Bulba stood up in the big touring car his arms outstretched the white bandage about his neck showing clearly in the car lights Cherry Bim rose to his knees and steadied himself once twice three times he fired and Bulba pitched over the side of the car dead I had a feeling that we should meet again said Cherry that's not a bad gun End of Chapter 19 Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 20 of the Book of All Power by Edgar Wallace this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Peter Tomlinson Chapter 20 Chapter the Last all my life said Cherry Bim fondling his derby hat affectionately I have been what is called by night court reporters a human parasite he occupied a corner seat in the first class compartment which had been placed at the disposal of the party to the peace commissioners in their saloon the fugitives had no existence officially they were not on the train and the hot meal which came back to them from the commissioners own kitchenette was officially sent to extra train men and was entered as such in the book of the chef the girls smiled there was cause for happiness for these dreary flats which were passing the window were the flats of Poland I've often thought Mr. Bim that you were a human angel Cherry beamed why? that's what I was named after he said ain't you heard of the Cherry Bims my sister Sarah was named the same way you've heard of Sarah Bims Sarah Finns laughed Malcolm true it's near enough but why this dissertation on your moral character Cherry I'm only remarking said Cherry I wouldn't like you gut fellas to go away thinking that high class female society hadn't brought about a change in what I would describe for want of a better word as my outlook all our outlooks have been shaken up laying a hand on Cherry's arm I'm a grand Duchess of Russia and you are you are yes I'm that said Cherry helping her out I'm one of nature's extractors but I'm through I hate the idea of working and maybe I won't have to because I've got enough of the well anyway I've got enough Malcolm slapped him on the knee he brought more from Russia than we have Cherry he said but not the greatest prize it was the silent Maninkoff who spoke Heines is there no way of recovering your father's fortune she shook her head it is gone she said quietly and if Russia were pacified tomorrow I should be poor you know that Malcolm he nodded I have not even she smiled poor Israel Kenska's wonderful book I was a careless fool struck the road I was so intent upon getting to the auto that I did not realise the book had dropped out we hadn't a second to lose he explained for the third time to Cherry the soldiers were searching in the yard when Maninkoff found the breach in the wall I hated leaving you or said the disgusted Cherry ain't we saddled that didn't I hear you tell in Percy and say is it true that the young lady is broke broke is exactly the word she said cheerfully I am going to be a nice Scottish wife and live within my husband's means why Cherry he had a book in his hand the book of all power where found it in the road he said I broke the lock and tore out a couple of leaves to light a flare I wanted to flag the train but I've got them the leaves I mean you found it she reached out a hand for the volume but he did not give it to her I can't read Russian he said what does this say and he pointed to the inscription on the cover and she read translating as she went on the book of all power herein is the magic of power and the words and symbols which unlock the sealed hearts of men and turn their proud wills to water Cherry was silent that's a lie he said quietly for it didn't turn my will to water take it miss she took it from his hand wandering and turned the broken cover she could not believe her eyes and turned the leaves quickly every page was a bank of England note worth a thousand pounds that was how Kensky kept his money evidently said Maninkoff in such troublesome times as the Jews passed through he thought it safest to convert his property into English money and when he had reached the limit of his hoard he bound the notes into a book the girl turned her bewildered face to Cherry did you know that this was money she asked sure he said didn't I start in to burn it End of chapter 20 Recording by Peter Tomlinson End of the book of all power by Edgar Wallace