him and collected his papers. He, too, was interested in Nikolai
Antonich, by the way, but he did not call again.
'He promised to do something for me,' said Vyshimirsky, 'but he
never came again.'
'Interested in Nikolai Antonich?'
'Yes. He was interested, to be sure he was.'
'Who was it?'
Vyshimirsky spread his hands.
202
'He called several times,' he said. 'I have a grown-up daughter, you
know, and they sat together talking and drinking tea. Getting
acquainted, you know.'
The shadow of a smile crossed his face-evidently this acquaintance
had raised certain hopes.
'Well, well,' I said. 'And he took some papers away, you say?'
'Yes. To help get my pension, a special pension.'
'And he inquired about Nikolai Antonich?'
'Yes, he did. He even asked whether I knew anybody else. Whether
anybody else knew what this ugly customer had been up to. I put him on
to one man.'
'That's interesting. Who is that young man?'
'A respectable-looking man, too,' said Vyshimirsky. 'He promised to
do something. He said he had to have all those papers to get me a
pension. A special pension.'
I asked what his name was, but the old man could not remember.
'Something with a 'sha' in it,' he said.
Then his grown-up daughter came in. I could see now why there was
such a hurry to get her married. It was going to be a problem, not
because there was 'no room for a husband' but because to that lady's
nose. It was a terrific nose, and it kept sniffing and snuffling with an
alarmingly predatory air.
I greeted her politely, and she ran out, reappearing some minutes
later looking quite a different person. She was wearing a normal dress
now in place of that Arab burnous thing she had had on when she came
in.
We fell into conversation, talking first about Korablev, who was the
only acquaintance we had in common, then about his pupil, who was
still fiddling about in his comer with his reels and coils and paying no
attention to us whatever.
'Anyuta, what was the name of that young man?' her father asked
timidly.
'What young man?'
'The one who promised to get me my pension.'
Anyuta's nose twitched and her lips quivered, and a variety of
expressions crossed her face. The strongest was indignation.
'I don’t remember-Romashov, I think,' she answered carelessly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
'WE HAVE A VISITOR!'
Romashka! Romashka had been to see them! He had promised the
old man assistance in getting him a special pension, he had paid court to
Anyuta with the nose! In the end he had disappeared, taking some
papers with him, and the old man could not even remember what kind
203
of papers they were. At first I thought this was some other Romashov,
some other man by the same name. But no, it was the same one. I
described him in detail, and Anyuta said venomously:
'That's him!'
He had paid court to her, that was clear. Afterwards he had stopped
paying court, otherwise she would not be calling him the names she did.
He had got out of the old man everything he knew about Nikolai
Antonich. He was collecting information. What for? Why had he taken
from Vyshimirsky those papers, which only went to prove one thing -
that before the revolution Nikolai Antonich had been no teacher, but
just a mean stock-jobber?
I came away from Vyshimirsky with a reeling head. There could be
only two solutions here—either that his purpose was to destroy all traces
of this past, or to get some sort of hold over Nikolai Antonich.
A hold over him? But why? Wasn't he his pupil, his most devoted and
loyal pupil? He had always been that, even at school, when he
eavesdropped on the boys to hear what they were saying about Nikolai
Antonich and then reported it to him. No, he was acting on instructions!
Nikolai Antonich had asked him to find out what Vyshimirsky knew
about him. It was a 'plant'. He had sent Romashov to take away the
papers which might prove damaging to him.
I went into a cafe and had some ice-cream. Then I had a drink of
something-some mineral water. I felt very hot and kept thinking and
thinking. After all, many years had passed since Romashka and I had
parted after finishing school. At that time he had been a nasty piece of
work, a mean, cold soul. But he was sincerely devoted to Nikolai
Antonich—at least, so we thought. Now I wasn't so sure. He may have
changed. Perhaps, without Nikolai Antonich knowing it, out of pure
devotion to him, he had decided to destroy papers which might cast a
reflection on the good name of his teacher, his friend?
No, he would never do anything merely out of devotion to that man.
There was some other motive behind this, I was sure. But I couldn't
make out what that motive was. I could only go by the old set of
relations which had existed between Nikolai Antonich and Romashka,
as I knew very little about their present relations.
It might have been some very simple motive, something to do with
promotion. Nikolai Antonich, it should be remembered, was a professor,
and Romashka was his assistant. It might even be money-even as a
schoolboy his ears used to burn at the mere mention of money.
Something to do with his salary perhaps.
I phoned Valya. I wanted to consult him, seeing that he had been
