Knight Without Armour

He answered, his hand tightening over her wrist: “Yes—yes—I believe you’re right!” But he did not move. “Yes, it’s a chance—a chance!” Yet still he did not move, and all at once there came the splitting crack of a revolver-shot. It was not a sound to attract particular attention at such a place and at such a time—it would just, perhaps, make the average hearer turn his head, if he were idle enough, and wonder what it was. A.J. wondered, but his mind was grappling with that more insistent matter—escape. Yes, there would be a chance, and their only chance, for, as Poushkoff had told them, Samara was close, and Samara meant armed escorts and prison-cells. Yes, yes,—there was no time to lose—Poushkoff would be back any minute—they must think of themselves—they must go now—instantly….But no—not for a minute—a little man with a ridiculously tilted fur cap was pacing up and down the platform; he would pass them in a few seconds, would reach the end, turn, pass them again, and then would come their chance…Yet the man in the fur cap did not pass them. He stopped and remarked, cheerfully: “Exciting business down there, comrade,” and jerked his head backward towards the crowd. “Officer just shot himself. Through the head. Deliberately—everybody saw him. Not a bad thing, perhaps, if they all did it eh?” He laughed and passed on. A.J. stared incredulously; it was Daly who led him back to the crowd. “We must see,” she said. “We must make sure.” When they reached the crown, soldiers were already carrying a body into the waiting-room; it was she again who pressed forward, edging her way in what doubtless seemed mere ghoulish curiosity. When she rejoined A.J. it was only to nod her head and take his arm. They walked slowly away. Then she began to whisper excitedly: “Dear, I’m just understanding it—that’s what he wanted us to do—all that talk about the road to the river, and the bargemen who might take us if we offered them money—Dear, we must do it—think how furious he’d be if he thought we hadn’t had the sense to take the chance he gave us!”

“Yes. We’ll do it.”

They came to the end of the platform, but did not stop and turn, like other up-and-down walkers. They hastened on through the darkness, across the tracks and sidings, in between rows of damaged box-cars, over a ditch into pale, crunching snowfields, and towards the river.

They skirted the village carefully, keeping well away from the snow- covered roofs, yet not too far from them, lest they should lose themselves in the mist. But A.J. had sound directional instinct, and despite the mist and the deep snow it was no more than a quarter of an hour before they clambered over a fence and found themselves facing a black vastness which, even before they heard the lapping of the water, reassured them. They stopped for a few seconds to listen; as well as the water, they could hear, very faintly, the lilt of voices in the distance. They walked some way along the path, their footsteps muffled in snow. Then a tiny light came into view, reflected far over the water till the mist engulfed it; the voices became plainer. Suddenly A.J. whispered: “The timber-barges—here they are!”—and they could sec the great rafts of tree-trunks, snow-covered and lashed together, with the winking light of the towing barge just ahead of them. Voices were approaching as well as being approached; soon two men passed by, speaking a language that was not Russian, though it was clear from sound and gesture that one of the men was bidding farewell to the other. They both shouted out a cheerful ‘Good-night’ as they passed, and a moment later A.J. heard them stop and give each other resounding kisses on both cheeks. Then one of them returned, overtaking the two fugitives near the gang-plank that led down at a steep angle to the barge itself. They could not see his face, but he was very big and tall. He cried out a second cheerful ‘Good-night,’ and was about to cross the plank, when A.J. asked: “Are you the captain of this boat?”

The man seemed childishly pleased at being called ‘captain,’ and replied, in very bad Russian: “Yes, that’s right.”

“We were wondering if you could take us along with you?”

“Well, I might, if you were to make it worth my while.”

To accept too instantly would have looked suspicious, so A.J. went on: “We are only poor people, so we cannot afford very much.”

“Where do you want to go to?”

“A little village called Varokslav—it is on the river, lower down.”

“I don’t think I know it at all.”

A.J. was not surprised, for it was an invented name.

“It t is only very small—we would tell you when you come to it.”

“But how can we settle a price if I don’t know how far it is?”

To which A.J. answered: “Where is it you are bound for, Captain?”

“Saratof. We are due there in three weeks.”

“Very well, I will give you twenty gold roubles to take us both to Saratof.”