Sherlock Holmes in Russia

I looked at Holmes. He sat there hunched, like a cat waiting for a mouse, ready to spring.

Fomka advanced slowly in the direction of Yefimoff. And suddenly the unexpected happened and totally upset our calculations. The appearance of the thug must have frightened Yefimoff. And instead of calmly waiting, he suddenly sprang back like a madman and, at the top of his voice, yelled, ‘Stop thief!’

Fomka sprang towards the door. Holmes flew out of his spot like an arrow, but it was already too late. Fomka was through the door, slamming it shut after him, while Holmes, unable to stop in time, careened into it forehead first.

By the time we made it to the street, Fomka was far away. We heard him jabber something as he was caught in a leash by which a student was leading a dog, saw how he stumbled head over heels, as did the dog, but that only delayed him for a moment. Ignoring the student’s curses, he was up and away and soon was hidden from view. Willy-nilly, we had to return.

‘And you just had to start howling,’ Holmes said with reproach directed at Yefimoff, who, in the meantime, had come to and joined in the chase.

‘It’s all right for you to talk,’ was the answer. ‘This is the sort of thing that you’re used to, while it’s a first time for me.’

There was nothing to be done. The red-headed thug had vanished and after a few exchanges we went home.

VII

We spent the whole of the following morning taking turns in the tavern opposite Gavriushka Voropayeff’s bookstore ostensibly owned by Nikanoroff. It was my turn when, through the window, I saw Gavriushka emerging. He spent a long time haggling with the cabbie and they were finally off.

I was after him and soon we were at the Nikolayevsk Railway Station. It was twenty minutes before the next train to Petersburg. I saw Gavriushka Voropayeff in the queue for third-class tickets and got an errand-boy to get me a ticket also.

The journey to Petersburg passed quickly enough and because I was travelling second class, I hardly saw Gavriushka. But then, at Tver, I was fortunate enough to see him go to the telegraph office and, standing behind him on the pretext, that I, too, was sending a telegram, I read his over his shoulder as he was so short. It was addressed to Panova’s Book Store in Petersburg, personally to an employee named Seriogin. The text was short and to the point: ARRIVING THIS MORNING. MEET ME.

The telegram was a real find. Now, at least, I had some sort of key. Arriving in Petersburg, a fairly well-dressed young man approached Gavriushka Voropayeff on the platform. They greeted each other, spoke and made their way to the exit.

I left my case with its change of clothes in the station baggage room and followed them at some distance. At Liteiniy Prospect they turned right and soon we were over the Neva River. After some zig-zagging along the narrow alleys of the Viborg bank, Seriogin and Gavriushka went into a small tavern, whose customers must have been mostly cab drivers as there was a large cab station next door.

I waited five minutes and followed them in. There was no vacant table next to them, so I had to occupy another that was one removed.

Gavriushka and Seriogin were, evidently, deeply involved in their own conversation and though they kept their voices low, from time to time some words reached me. They were haggling. The greedy Gavriushka would raise his voice quite considerably whenever money was mentioned.

‘No, fellow, I simply can’t. You know yourself how things are. Isn’t a quarter enough! You can check every penny on me, but that’s all I have. All that’d be left for me would be ten roubles for a return ticket and a cheap meal,’ he said heatedly.

But Seriogin wouldn’t give in, ‘As you wish, but I won’t settle for anything less than fifty,’ he said firmly.

‘Then feel free to go to anyone else,’ said Gavriushka angrily.

Seriogin shrugged, ‘Well, then, so we will. You’re not the only game in town. There’s plenty more,’ he said nastily.

They lowered their voices and renewed their haggling. Gavriushka haggled with such emotion that perspiration began to run down his face. But it appeared that he wasn’t getting his way. As their argument became more heated, their voices rose and became more and more hoarse.

Gavriushka became completely transformed. His face grew scarlet. His greedy eyes shone as if he were mad and his fingers convulsed into fists. ‘Just you wait then,’ he shouted, unable to contain himself any longer.

Seriogin looked at him and jeered, ‘Let’s see – who of us will wait and whom it’ll suit best is still to be seen, but I’ll say it’ll be the worse for you,’ he said and laughed in Gavriushka’s face.