The White Terror and The Red: A Novel of Revolutionary Russia Read online

  CHAPTER VIII.

  MAKAR'S CANVASS.

  Parmet now gave most of his time to the secret movement, making himselfuseful in a variety of ways. His great unrealised ambition, however, wasto work in an underground printing office--an offence which at theperiod was punished by a long term of penal servitude in Siberia. He hada feeling as though nothing one did for the movement could be regardedas a vital service to the cause of free speech as long as it fell shortof typesetting in a secret printing establishment. He had applied forwork of this kind several times, but his proverbial absent-mindednessstood in his way. Being in the habit of reading some book or newspaperas he walked through the streets, he would sometimes catch himselfdrinking in the contents of some "underground" publication in thismanner. Once as he stood on a street corner intent upon a revolutionaryleaflet, he heard an infuriated whisper:

  "Imbecile! Scoundrel!"

  When he raised his eyes he saw the ample back of a compactly built mandressed in citizen's clothes except for a broad military cap with a redband. This was "the Janitor," so nicknamed because he made it hisbusiness to go the rounds of "conspiracy houses" every morning and topick a quarrel with those of their occupants who had neglected tofurnish their windows with safety signals or were guilty of some othermanifestation of "Russian breadth." The episode antedated the aboveconversation between Makar and Pavel by two months, and the medicalstudent had not seen the Janitor since. He dreaded to meet him. At thisminute, however, he was just the man he wanted to see, for it was he whohad taken the initiative in getting the Dandy into the Third Section.Accordingly, Pavel had no sooner left him than he betook himself to aplace at which he expected to find that revolutionist. The place was thelodging of a man who was known in the organisation as Purring Cat--anickname based on his shaggy eyebrows and moustache. His face was almostentirely overgrown with hair. Short of stature, with a thick dark beardthat reached down to his knees and with blue eyes that peered up fromunder his stern eyebrows, this formidable looking little man, thenearest approach to the wax-works version of a Russian Nihilist, was thegentlest soul on the Executive Committee. Besides Purring Cat and theJanitor, Makar found in the room Andrey, an extremely tall man withTartarian features.

  The Janitor greeted Makar with a volley of oaths, stuttering as hespoke, as was usually the case when he was angry.

  "You have no business to be here," he fulminated. "You are just the manto bring a spy in tow. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if you had one atyour heels now."

  "Come, don't fume," Makar pleaded, confusedly. "I won't be absent-mindedany more. I have taken myself in hand. Besides, my absent-mindedness isnot without its redeeming feature. You see, I am the last man to besuspected of being on my guard; so the spies would never bother me."

  Andrey and Purring Cat smiled. The Janitor started to do the same, butchanged his mind. Instead, he broke into a more violent fit of temperand a more painful stutter than before. His compact figure was of mediumheight, his face very blond, with prominent eyes and well-trimmed redbeard. His military cap matched the passport of a retired army officerunder which he was registered at the police station. He was supposed tobe employed at some civil tribunal, and every morning, on the stroke ofeleven he would leave his lodgings, a portfolio under his arm, hismilitary cap slightly cocked--the very personification of the part heacted. The name in his passport was Polivanoff. His real name wasMichailoff, and under that name he was wanted by the gendarmes inprominent connection with several attempts on the life of the Czar. Hehad once escaped from under arrest and on another occasion he hadmanaged to disappear from a railroad train while it was being searchedfor him. He was one of the ablest and bravest men in the party. Hisun-Russian punctuality and indefatigable attention to detail; hispractical turn of mind and the way he had of nagging his friends fortheir lack of these qualities, were common topics of banter among theTerrorists. He had made a special study of every lane and court in thecapital by which one might "trash" one's trail. He not only shadowed hisfellow revolutionists to see if they were aware of being shadowed orwhether they dressed in accordance with the type implied by their falsepassports, but he also made a practice of spying over the spies of theThird Section. With this end in view, he had once rented a room acrossthe street from that office--an institution that would have givenmillions for his head. Here he would sit for hours at his window,scrutinising every new person who entered the building so as to be ableto keep track of their movements afterward. Having thus discovered aboarding house in which lived an important officer of the secret servicehe had sent the Dandy to hire a room there. The desired appointment hadthen been obtained without difficulty.

  When Makar had laid the practical part of his scheme before the threemen, the Janitor fixed his prominent eyes on him and said, withoutstammering:

  "And you are just the chap to do it, aren't you?"

  "And why not? It certainly doesn't need much adroitness and vigilance toget arrested."

  "The devil it does not. A fellow like you would get ten men arrestedbefore he fooled the measliest cub spy in the Third Section. Better keepyour hands off."

  "Oh, well, if the escape was really a sure thing, the matter might bearranged," Purring Cat interposed, charitably, in a low, gentle voice."Only this is scarcely the time for it." Whereupon Makar, feelingencouraged, launched out to describe his far-reaching scheme in detail.The look of the Janitor's prominent eyes, however, disturbed him, sothat he expounded the plan in a rather nerveless way; when he hadfinished, the Janitor declared:

  "He's certainly crazy."

  Purring Cat's blue eyes looked up under their bushy brows, as he said,gravely:

  "There may be something in it, though, theoretically at least. Inreality, however, I am afraid that general state of chaos would reboundupon ourselves. The government may get its spies into our circles untilone does not know who is who. It may become a double-edged weapon, this'babel of distrust.' As to that prison scheme it might be tried someday. Only don't be in a hurry, Makar."

  "And what is your opinion?" Makar addressed himself to Andreysolicitously.

  Andrey who was a man of few words, and spoke with a slight lisp, said hehad no definite opinion to offer, but, when Makar pressed him hard, hesaid:

  "Well, we have one man there" (meaning the Third Section), "so let usnot make the mistake of the woman who cut her hen open in order to getat all her eggs at once. Still, if the scheme could be worked in some ofthe provinces, it might be worth while. It all depends on circumstances,of course."

  Makar longed to see Sophia, the daughter of the former governor of St.Petersburg. She had taken an active part in one of the most daringrescues and was celebrated for the ingenuity and motherly devotion withwhich she gave herself to the "Red Cross" work of the party, supplyingpolitical prisoners with provisions and keeping them in secretcommunication with their relatives. It was the story of this youngnoblewoman's life which afterwards inspired Turgeneff's prose poem, _TheThreshold_. Makar thought she might take an active interest in hisscheme, but she was overwhelmed with other work and inaccessible.