‘The devil!’ said Holmes fiercely. ‘He’ll catch up with us.’
We made another desperate attempt and this time success crowned our efforts. Just as we managed to find the end of the mooring rope, we heard the sound of horses galloping, but we had hardly managed to cast off when a troika came straight for us and into the water.
Two men leaped out and before we had time to gather ourselves together, they scrambled on board.
‘Aha, so that’s what you are up to,’ we heard a hoarse voice rage. In that moment I saw Boris Nikolayevitch leap like a cat at Holmes standing by the mooring rope. I threw myself to help him but powerful hands pinioned me.
The ferry forged ahead at full speed and there was nobody to see the life-and-death struggle being waged on board. We fought with every ounce of strength we possessed, we fought tooth and nail as we rolled over and over. In the heat of the struggle I couldn’t see what was happening with Holmes. I gathered up my last reserves of strength, seized my opponent by the throat and with every ounce of strength bashed his head in the darkness against the wooden planking. He, too, made a desperate effort, slipped out of my hands to roll over and vanish beneath the waves.
I leapt to my feet to help Holmes. But it was too late. I was nearly at his side, but he was in a deathly embrace with Kartseff and they went overboard together. Holmes vanished out of sight.
I kept on yelling and screaming for him, but the river was as unresponsive as the grave. Somehow I managed to steer the craft to the opposite shore and at the first village I raised the alarm. I invoked the help of the villagers, and entreated them to find my friend.
All night and day we searched and searched. We even requested the help of the village downriver, but all was in vain. Holmes had irrevocably vanished. We searched a further five days but to no avail. I set off for Moscow, where I laid everything before the police. Soon I departed for England, grieving the premature end of my best friend.
4. THE ELUSIVE GANG
P. Nikitin
I
‘Surely you notice, my dear Watson, that revolutionary times in Russia affected townspeople and citizens of the Russian Empire generally much more so than those who, up until such times, kept out of the limelight and emerged to show themselves only with the greatest care.’
‘Surely that was to be expected,’ I replied. ‘The turmoil that accompanies revolution invariably deflects conservative elements. In their drive to quell revolution, these elements fail to see the mass of riff-raff who live by theft, robbery, burglary, blackmail and suchlike shady means.’
The conversation between us took place as we sat on a bench along the Tversky Boulevard, where Holmes and I had gone out for some fresh air.
‘When I look at the chronicle of current events set out in the local press, I am simply amazed at the sheer number of daring and impertinent robberies systematically carried out in Moscow. You would think that, having regard to the improved strength of the investigation department instituted with the first revolutionary outbursts, it would be possible to cope with ordinary crime! But it looks as if the opposite is the case.’
While he was saying all this, Holmes drew Kabbalistic symbols in the sand with his cane, while pensively looking up at the investigation department, directly opposite which we sat.
‘I think that the reason is clear,’ I said, ‘if we take into account that at one time all the efforts of the investigation department were solely directed at ferreting out revolutionary organizations, catching terrorists and looking for forbidden literature. Until the revolution got under way, revolutionary organizations were so conspiratorial that catching them was more difficult than catching criminals.’
‘But in the revolutionary period,’ Sherlock Holmes interrupted me, ‘the revolutionary organizations showed their cards far too openly, they operated nearly in the open, as a result of which agents of the security service were able to infiltrate them and this error they haven’t been able to correct even now. It goes without saying that investigations into political affairs require little or no effort these days, but concentrating mostly on political investigation leads to the worst elements in society not being under scrutiny any more. Just look, burglaries in Moscow amaze with their unusual and systematic effrontery. Often they are carried out in the town centre in broad daylight and it is only in rare cases that the police are able to solve these crimes quickly.’
It was a hot day. Strollers filled the boulevard. Dust rose all around us. Neither Holmes nor I liked crowds, preferring more quiet places for our strolls. Which is why, when the boulevard became crowded, we exchanged glances and, understanding each other without words, rose from our bench. Exchanging conversational trivia, we were about to make our way towards Strastniy Boulevard, when we were overtaken by a crowd of drunken hooligans. We sought refuge in a cab.
‘There’s no getting away from them,’ said Sherlock Holmes angrily. ‘In general, my dear Watson, if we were to compare Russia with England, there is much to marvel at. You wouldn’t encounter a tenth of the number of beggars in London as you would here, even though the number of unemployed in London is several times greater than in Moscow.’
Saying this, he drew a cigar out of its case and threw himself back in his seat. ‘When a city or a government isn’t sufficiently concerned with the grey mass of people and is only interested in preserving the interests of the bureaucracy and the capitalist class, that’s what always happens. The grey mass, driven in on itself, sinks like a stone in water.’
In the meantime, our ghastly cabriolet with its metal wheels stopped outside the Moscow Grand Hotel. We settled with the unprepossessing driver and went to our room.
The first thing that we saw, as we came in, was a sealed envelope placed conspicuously in such a way that we could not miss it.
‘I can already anticipate something new,’ said Sherlock Holmes, opening and reading it.
‘Maxim Vasilyevitch Kliukin, publisher and book store proprietor, invites you, Watson, and me – to see him on an urgent matter,’ he added as he finished reading the letter and placed it back on the table.
‘And you, of course, are off to see him instantly.’
‘But, of course. After all, we haven’t done much this month and it wouldn’t go amiss to give ourselves a little shake-up. Let’s have a leisurely lunch and then make our way along Mohovaya Street, where he owns a store.’
We changed, went down to the restaurant, chose a table and ordered lunch.
II
At about five in the afternoon we came out on to the square where the Duma stands, turned into Tversky Boulevard, turned into Mohovaya Street and went in the direction of the university.
‘I think I can just about imagine what they’ll tell me when we get there,’ Holmes said as we walked along. ‘If you have read the news in the Moscow papers, you must have seen accounts of a whole number of robberies from major publishers during the last year. Kliukin’s publishing house, as well as his book store, are amongst the biggest in Moscow both as regards the number of publications as well as the variety on sale.’
‘He probably got taken for quite a lot,’ I interrupted, ‘but it seems strange that he decided to come to us.’
Sherlock Holmes shrugged, ‘In order for you not to be surprised, and to understand the reason, you have only to remember our conversation on Tversky Boulevard.’
Without much trouble, we found Benkendorff House in which Kliukin’s store was situated. We asked whether
