coward–the rest would be easy.
“This is an outrage,” cried the Russian in a high hysterical voice. “An
outrage! Do you mean to kill me?”
“Not if you keep your voice down. Don’t go edging sideways towards that
bell. That’s better.”
“What do you want? Do nothing rashly. Remember my life is of the utmost
value to my country. I may have been maligned—-”
“I reckon,” said Julius, “that the man who let daylight into you would be
doing humanity a good turn. But you needn’t worry any. I’m not proposing to
kill you this trip–that is, if you’re reasonable.”
The Russian quailed before the stern menace in the other’s eyes. He passed
his tongue over his dry lips.
“What do you want? Money?”
“No. I want Jane Finn.”
“Jane Finn? I–never heard of her!”
“You’re a darned liar! You know perfectly who I mean.”
“I tell you I’ve never heard of the girl.”
“And I tell you,” retorted Julius, “that Little Willie here is just hopping
mad to go off!”
The Russian wilted visibly.
“You wouldn’t dare—-”
“Oh, yes, I would, son!”
Kramenin must have recognized something in the voice that carried
conviction, for he said sullenly:
“Well? Granted I do know who you mean–what of it?”
“You will tell me now–right here–where she is to be found.”
Kramenin shook his head.
“I daren’t.”
“Why not?”
“I daren’t. You ask an impossibility.”
“Afraid, eh? Of whom? Mr. Brown? Ah, that tickles you up! There is such
a person, then? I doubted it. And the mere mention of him scares you stiff!”
“I have seen him,” said the Russian slowly. “Spoken to him face to face. I
did not know it until afterwards. He was one of a crowd. I should not know him
again. Who is he really? I do not know. But I know this–he is a man to fear.”
“He’ll never know,” said Julius.
“He knows everything–and his vengeance is swift. Even I–Kramenin!–would
not be exempt!”
“Then you won’t do as I ask you?”
“You ask an impossibility.”
“Sure that’s a pity for you,” said Julius cheerfully. “But the world in
general will benefit.” He raised the revolver.
“Stop,” shrieked the Russian. “You cannot mean to shoot me?”
“Of course I do. I’ve always heard you Revolutionists held life cheap, but
it seems there’s a difference when it’s your own life in question. I gave you
just one chance of saving your dirty skin, and that you wouldn’t take!”
“They would kill me!”
“Well,” said Julius pleasantly, “it’s up to you. But I’ll just say this.
Little Willie here is a dead cert, and if I was you I’d take a sporting chance
with Mr. Brown!”
“You will hang if you shoot me,” muttered the Russian irresolutely.
“No, stranger, that’s where you’re wrong. You forget the dollars. A big
crowd of solicitors will get busy, and they’ll get some high-brow doctors on the
job, and the end of it all will be that they’ll say my brain was unhinged. I
shall spend a few months in a quiet sanatorium, my mental health will improve,
the doctors will declare me sane again, and all will end happily for little
Julius. I guess I can bear a few months’ retirement in order to rid the world
of you, but don’t you kid yourself I’ll hang for it!”
The Russian believed him. Corrupt himself, he believed implicitly in the
power of money. He had read of American murder trials running much on the lines
indicated by Julius. He had bought and sold justice himself. This virile young
American, with the significant drawling voice, had the whip hand of him.
“I’m going to count five,” continued Julius, “and I guess, if you let me
get past four, you needn’t worry any about Mr. Brown. Maybe he’ll send some
flowers to the funeral, but YOU won’t smell them! Are you ready? I’ll begin.
One–two three–four—-”
The Russian interrupted with a shriek:
“Do not shoot. I will do all you wish.”
Julius lowered the revolver.
“I thought you’d hear sense. Where is the girl?”
“At Gatehouse, in Kent. Astley Priors, the place is called.”
“Is she a prisoner there?”
“She’s not allowed to leave the house–though it’s safe enough really. The