Part 79 (2/2)

Edwards colored slightly.

”Well, yes--”

”And it was Calabressa who intrusted such a secret as that to a maniac--”

”Pardon me, Kirski never knew specifically what lay before him; but he was ready for anything. For my own part, I was heartily glad when they sent him back to England. I did not wish to have any hand in such a business, however indirectly; and, indeed, I hope they have abandoned the whole project by this time.”

”It might be wiser, certainly,” said Brand, with an indifferent air.

”If they go on with it, it will make a fearful noise in Europe,” said Edwards, contemplatively. ”The a.s.sa.s.sination of a cardinal! Well, his life has been scandalous enough--but still, his death, in such a way--”

”It will horrify people, will it not?” Brand said, calmly; ”and his murderer will be execrated and howled at throughout Europe, no doubt!”

”Well, yes; you see, who is to know the motives?”

”There won't be a single person to say a single word for him,” said Brand, absently. ”It is an enviable fate, isn't it, for some wretched mortal? No matter, Edwards; we will go and look up this fellow Kirski now.”

They went out into the night--it was cold and drizzling--and made their way up into Soho. They knocked at the door of a shabby-looking house; and Kirski's landlady made her appearance. She was very angry when his name was mentioned; of course he was not at home; they would find him in some public-house or other--the animal!

”But he pays his rent, doesn't he?” Brand remonstrated.

Oh yes, he paid his rent. But she didn't like a wild beast in the house.

It was decent lodgings she kept; not a Wombwell's Menagerie.

”I am sure he gives you no trouble, ma'am,” said Edwards, who had seen something of the meek and submissive way the Russian conducted himself in his lodgings.

This she admitted, but promptly asked how she was to know she mightn't have her throat cut some night? And what was the use of her talking to him, when he didn't know two words of a Christian language?

They gathered from this that the good woman had been lecturing her docile lodger, and had been seriously hurt because of his inattention.

However, she at last consented to give them the name of the particular public-house in which he was likely to be found, and they again set off in quest of him.

They found him easily. He was seated in a corner of the crowded and reeking bar-room by himself, nursing a gla.s.s of gin-and-water with his two trembling hands. When they entered, he looked up and regarded them with bleared, sunken eyes, evidently recognized them, and then turned away sullenly.

”Tell him I am not come to bully him,” said Brand quickly. ”Tell him I am come about some work. I want a cabinet made by a first-cla.s.s workman like himself.”

Edwards went forward and put his hand on the man's shoulder and spoke to him for some time; then he turned to Brand.

”He says, 'No use; no use.' He cannot work any more. They won't give him help to kill Pavel Michaieloff. He wishes to die.”

”Ask him, then, what the young lady who gave him her portrait will think of him if she hears he is in this condition. Ask him how he has dared to bring her portrait into a place like this.”

When this was conveyed to Kirski, he seemed to arouse himself somewhat; he even talked eagerly for a few seconds; then he turned away again, as if he did not wish to be seen.

”He says,” Edwards continued, ”that he has not, that he would not bring that portrait into any such place. He was afraid it might be found--it might be taken from him. He made a small casket of oak, carved by his own hands, and lined it with zinc; he put the photograph in it, and hid himself in the trees of St. James's Park--at least, I imagine that St.

James's Park is what he means--at night. Then he buried it there. He knows the place. When he has killed Michaieloff he will come back and dig it up.”

”The poor devil--his brain is certainly going, drink or no drink. What is to be done with him, Edwards?”

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