The Book of All-Power Part 31

"'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 d.u.c.h.ess, for I have neither kith nor child, and she has been kind to me."

"But surely, Kensky," 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 Kensky calmly. "Remember, it is to become the property of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess 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 Kensky went in. Presently the old man returned; the book was now st.i.tched 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 Kensky.

"Lord," he asked, as Malcolm's foot was on the stair, "do you love this young woman?"

It would have been the sheerest affectation on his part to have evaded the question.

"Yes, Israel Kensky," 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 G.o.ds of Jacob and of Abraham and of David rest upon you and prosper you. Amen!"

Never had benediction been p.r.o.nounced upon him that felt so real, or that brought such surprising comfort to the soul of Malcolm Hay. He felt as if, in that dingy stairway, he had received the very guerdon 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 creep about his neck, and he forgot the world and all the evil and menace it held: he forgot the grave Malinkoff, 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 Petroff 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 Petroff, and the girl jumped up with a little cry of joy.

"I had 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 Petroff urgently. "I do not think it would be safe to stay here--safe for you or for Kensky. I have sent one of my men on a bicycle to watch the Moscow road."

"Is that necessary?" asked Malinkoff. "Are you suspect?"

Petroff nodded.

"If Boolba learns that Kensky pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sistant Minister of Justice in Petrograd, I should have been arrested long ago.

If Boolba finds Israel Kensky here, or the Grand d.u.c.h.ess, nothing can save me. My only hope is to get you away before there is a search.

Understand, little general," he said earnestly, "if you had not the car, I would take all risks and let you stay until you were found."

"That seems unnecessary," said Malinkoff. "I quite agree. What do you say, Kensky?"

The old man, who had followed Malcolm down the stairs, nodded.

"I should have shot Boolba," he said thoughtfully, "but it would have made too much noise."

"You should have used the knife, little father," said Petroff, but Kensky shook his head.

"He wears chain armour under his clothes," he said. "All the commissaries do."

Preparations for the journey were hurriedly made. The girl's trunk had proved a veritable storehouse, and she came down in a short tweed skirt and coat, her glorious hair hidden under a black tam o' shanter, and Malcolm could scarcely take his eyes from her.

"You have a coat," said the practical Malinkoff. "That is good--you may need it."

Crash!

It was the sound of a rifle b.u.t.t against the door which struck them dumb. m.u.f.fled by the thick wood, the voice of the knocker yet came clearly: "Open in the name of the Revolution!"

Petroff 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 Malinkoff stroked his beard softly. Only Cherry Bim seemed to realize the necessities of the moment, and he pulled both guns simultaneously and laid them noiselessly on the table before him.

"Open in the name of the Revolution!"

A hiss from Kensky 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 Petroff 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 pa.s.sages they pa.s.sed and came to the little door, which Kensky unchained and opened. He put his lips close to Malinkoff'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 '45 in each hand. There were no soldiers in view at the back of the house, but Malinkoff could hear their feet on some unknown outside road, and realized 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.

Kensky 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 had unslung his carbine, and they heard the click of the bolt as the breech opened and closed.

"We are friends, little father," said Malinkoff.

"Give me your names," said the sentry, and Malinkoff recited with glib ease a list of Russian patronymics.

"That is a lie," said the man calmly. "You are boorjoos--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 circ.u.mstances 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.