CHAPTER XXII
When the Light Failed
After considerable delay the door was opened ajar by a diminutive,white-haired old man, who demanded in a quavering voice the names andbusiness of the callers.
"We wish to see M. Vladimir Klostivitch on private affairs," repliedthe Sub. "It is useless to give one's names, for we are unknown toyour master. You can inform him that we are comrades from England."
"I am Vladimir Klostivitch," announced the old man. "Be pleased toenter."
"I am sorry to have made a mistake," said Fordyce apologetically.
"It is nothing," rejoined Klostivitch. "Can I offer you tea? Excusethe fact that I am alone in the house. Please be seated."
The room into which Fordyce and his companion were shown was a largelow-ceilinged place, devoid of a fire-place. It was well heated,warmth being obtained by means of a large closed-in stove in thecentre of the room, over which was a bed-box, similar to thoseextensively used by the muzhiks in the smaller towns and villages ofcentral Russia. The furniture consisted of a massive table, twoarm-chairs and a few smaller ones, a plain sideboard, and a tallpress. The floor was composed of stone flags on which rushes werestrewn.
"By Jove," cogitated Fordyce, while his host set about to prepare teain the Russian style--strongly-brewed beverage with lemon juiceinstead of milk, "I didn't picture Klostivitch to be such a shrimp ofa fellow! If his cunning only equals his bodily size, then we oughtto have an easy job. Hanged if I can imagine a white-haired,soft-spoken fellow like that as a dangerous Anarchist or Extremist.After all, there's little to choose between the two names."
Presently the tea was handed round to the accompaniment of anexchange of small talk. Apparently the Russian was seeking to "draw"his visitors, while Fordyce, in the joint role of interpreter anddelegate, carefully sounded his ground.
"I understand that you are interested in the cigarette industry,"remarked Klostivitch. "Do you bear letters of introduction from thehead of our London house?"
"Cigarette industry?" repeated the Sub. "I never said so. We calledat the request of a Mr. Mindiggle, of the town of Otherport."
The Russian shook his head.
"I know nothing of a person of that name," he remarked bluntly."Perhaps you can give further particulars?"
He fixed his visitor with a piercing glance from his deep-set eyesand awaited his reply.
Fordyce made no attempt to answer until he had thought out a new planof action, occasioned by Klostivitch's disclaimer.
"If you do not know Mr. Mindiggle there is nothing further to besaid," he remarked. "We must have made a mistake."
"Quite possibly," rejoined the other dryly.
"However, I might add," continued Fordyce, rising and holding up asmall leather bag, "that the gentleman whose identity you disclaimentrusted me with a small parcel--of diamonds, I understand--to begiven to you personally."
Without allowing the dummy packet out of his hands, the Sub allowedKlostivitch to read the address.
"Certainly it is for me," admitted the Russian. "But surely,Monsieur, you have handled this precious parcel very carelessly? Areyou not aware that diamonds greatly deteriorate if exposed to lowtemperatures?"
"Hanged if I am," declared Fordyce. "I was certainly not warned tothat effect. But, look here----"
Klostivitch held up a warning finger.
"No harm has apparently been done," he remarked. "In any case, abrief examination of the diamonds will confirm my belief. If you willcome with me to my testing laboratory we will make a jointinvestigation."
Again Fordyce hesitated. He was doubtful whether to tackle the manstraight away or to wait until the Russian himself made the discoverythat the packet contained nothing but broken glass. The mere factthat the Extremist had finally accepted the statement that the"diamonds" were for him was sufficient proof that he was in leaguewith a dangerous secret society in Great Britain. Cornered andthreatened, he would be pretty certain to give the names of hisaccomplices and the formula of the ingredients from which the deadlynitro-talcite was compounded.
The fellow might raise a terrific commotion afterwards, Fordycereflected, but the Sub was prepared to risk that. Once he and thepetty officer were clear they would discard their disguise and appearin their true characters as members of Submarine R19's complement. Inany case, they could take efficient steps to prevent VladimirKlostivitch raising an alarm until several hours had elapsed.
"All right; lead the way, monsieur," he exclaimed.
The old man opened the door of the stove and thrust a strip of woodinto the glowing furnace. With this he lighted a cast-iron oil lamp.
"My laboratory is below the ground," he explained, "and owing to thescarcity of candles, and the failure of the authorities to maintainthe supply of electric light, I am compelled to fall back upon thislamp. It will be quite enough for the brief examination I propose tomake. Follow me, if you please."
Crossing the stone floor, Klostivitch threw back a thick, fadedcurtain that hitherto concealed a doorway under the broad staircase.A rush of warm air swept from the gloomy opening. In spite of theotherwise cheerless conditions, the house in Bobbinsky Prospekt waswell heated, even the cellars.
"Be careful," cautioned the guide as he preceded his guests and heldthe lamp low in order that its feeble rays might illuminate the wornstone steps. "It is not often that visitors honour my laboratory withtheir presence, otherwise I might have devoted a more accessibleplace to my researches."
"It is quite all right," rejoined Fordyce. "At any rate," hesoliloquized, "you are in front of me, so it will go hard with you ifyou try any low-down tricks."
Full fifteen steps were descended before the three men gained a levelpassage. Placing his hand on one of the walls the Sub made thediscovery that the stonework was warm. On the other side of the wallwas, apparently, the large stove used for heating the whole house.
Suddenly the lamp went out.
"A thousand apologies!" exclaimed Klostivitch. "It was the draught.Have you a box of matches by any chance?"
"Yes, I have," replied the Sub, secretly rejoicing that theextinguishing of the lamp was by accident, not design, and that theRussian seemed as anxious as the others to rectify matters.
He unbuttoned his heavy greatcoat, and, removing his gloves, fumbledfor his silver match-box.
"Here it is, monsieur," he exclaimed, extending his hand.
He waited a few seconds, under the impression that the Russian wasgroping for the proffered article. Then he repeated the announcement,adding, in a tone of involuntary impatience: "Where are you?"
"Here," replied a mocking voice above his head, "blunderingbusybodies that you are! You are securely trapped this time, and youwill have good cause to repent of your unwarrantable and interferingcuriosity."
Then came the dull thud of a heavy stone slab falling into position,and Fordyce and the petty officer found themselves prisoners in thecellar of the mysterious house.
A Sub and a Submarine: The Story of H.M. Submarine R19 in the Great War Page 22
