repeated gloomily, as though the fearful thought that I might not believe
him had struck him again. 'And if I didn't die myself it was only because
I knew that she and you needed me.' 'I too?' 'Yes, you too.
Skovorodnikov had written to her that you'd been killed. She was half-
dead with grief when I arrived. You should have seen what happened to
her when I told her I had seen you! I realised at that moment how
pitiful!-Romashov brought this out in such a full, loud voice that there
even came a thud from the hallway, as if Vyshimirsky had fallen off his
chair-'how pitiful I was in the face of this love. At that moment I bitterly
regretted having wanted to kill you. It was a false step. Your death
would not have brought me happiness.'
'Is that all?'
'Yes, that's all. In January they sent me to Khvoinaya. I was away a
fortnight. I brought meat, but the flat was already empty. Varya
Trofimova—I expect you know her—had sent Katya away by plane.'
'Where to?'
'To Vologda—I found that out definitely. And from there to
Yaroslavl.' 'Who did you make inquiries of at Yaroslavl?' 'The
evacuation centre. I know the man in charge.' 'Did you get a reply?'
'Yes. But it was only to say that she had passed through the evacuation
centre and had been sent to a hospital for Leningraders.'
'Show me.'
He found the letter in his desk and handed it to me. 'Vspolye Station,' I
read. 'In reply to your inquiry...'
'Why Vspolye?'
'The evacuation centre is there. It's two kilometres outside Yaroslavl.'
'Is that all now?' 'Yes.'
312
'Now listen to me, then,' I said, fighting for self-control. 'I can't
forgive, or not forgive you, whatever you may have done for Katya. After
what you did for me this is no longer a personal quarrel between us. You
weren't quarrelling with me when you wanted to finish me off and left
me, a badly wounded man, in the wood to die. You were committing a
military offence, a dastardly crime for which you will be tried as a
scoundrel who violated his oath.'
I looked him squarely in the eye and was amazed. He was not
listening to me. Somebody was coming up the stairs, two or three people
judging by the footfalls which echoed hollowly on the staircase.
Romashov looked about him uneasily and stood up. There came a knock
at the door, then a ring.
'Shall I open?' Vyshimirsky asked from behind the partition.
'No!' Romashov shouted. 'Ask who it is,' he added quietly, as though
collecting himself, and walked across the room with a light, almost
dancing tread.
'Who's there?'
'It's from the house management, open the door.'
Romashov gave a sharply indrawn breath.
'Tell them I'm not at home.'
'I didn't know. Somebody phoned and I said you were at home.'
'At home, of course,' I said loudly.
Romashov threw himself upon me and seized my arms. I pushed him
away. He squealed, then followed me out into the hallway and took up
the same position as before, between the wall and the
wardrobe.
'Just a minute,' I said. 'I'll open the door.'
Two men came in—an elderly one, who was evidently the house
manager, judging by the dour, businesslike expression of his face, and
that same young man with the cool manner and the smart cap whom I
had seen in the house manager's office. The young man first looked at
me, then, unhurriedly, at Romashov.
'Citizen Romashov?'
'Yes.' Vyshimirsky's teeth chattered so loudly that everyone looked
round at him. 'Weapons?' 'I have none,' Romashov answered, almost
unruffled. Only a
vein throbbed in his otherwise impassive face.
'Well, get your things together. Just a change of underwear.
Accompany the prisoner, will you,' he said to the house manager.
'Your documents, Captain.'
'It's all nonsense, Nikolai Ivanovich!' Romashov was saying in a loud
voice in the next room, where he was packing his knapsack. 'I'll be back
in a few days. It's that same stupid old business about the offal.
Remember me telling you about it—the offal from Khvoinaya?' '
Vyshimirsky's teeth chattered again. It was obvious that he had never
heard about that offal before.
'Sanya, I hope you find her in Yaroslavl,' Romashov said louder.
'Tell her-'
Standing in the hall, I saw him drop the knapsack and stand for a while
with closed eyes.
'Never mind,' he muttered.
313
'Excuse me, may I ask you for a glass of water,' the man in the cap said
to Vyshimirsky.
Vyshimirsky gave it to him. Now we all stood in the hall—Romashov
with his knapsack on his back, the house manager, who had not said a
word throughout, and a bewildered Vyshimirsky with the
empty glass in his hand. For a minute or so all were silent. Then the
young man pushed open the door.
'Goodbye, excuse me for disturbing you.' And with a polite gesture he
motioned Romashov forward.
Probably, if I had the time, I would have tried to discover some deep
meaning in the fact that fate, working through a member of the Moscow
C.I.D., has so abruptly interrupted my conversation with Romashov. But
the Yaroslavl train was leaving at 8.20 and in the time left to me I had
to:
(a) present myself to Slepushkin and complete all the personnel
