"Oho! that's better. You should have begun by asking that!"answered the newcomer, settling himself comfortably on his chair and toying with his pistols. "How much do you earn?""We get little enough! Just five rubles," answered the red-headed man.
"That's too little. I need a great deal more. But you are lying, brother! You would not stir for less than twenty rubles!""Thanks for the compliment!" interrupted Pacomius Borisovitch.
The fair-haired man nodded to him satirically. "I need a lot more," he repeated firmly and impressively; "and if you don't give me at least twenty-five rubles I'll denounce you this very minute to the police--and you see I have my witnesses ready.""Sergei Antonitch! Mr. Kovroff! Have mercy on us! Where can we get so much from? I tell you as in the presence of the Creator!
There are ten of us, as you see. And there are three of you. And I, Yuzitch, and Gretcka deserve double shares!" added Pacomius Borisovitch persuasively.
"Gretcka deserves nothing at all for catching me by the throat,"decided Sergei Antonitch Kovroff.
"Mr. Kovroff!" began Pacomius again. "You and I are gentlemen--""What! What did you say?" Kovroff contemptuously interrupted him.
"You put yourself on my level? Ha! ha! ha! No, brother; I am still in the Czar's service and wear my honor with my uniform! I, brother, have never stained myself with theft or crime, Heaven be praised. But what are you?""Hm! And the Golden Band? Who is its captain?" muttered Gretcka angrily, half to himself.
"Who is its captain? I am--I, Lieutenant Sergei Antonitch Kovroff, of the Chernovarski Dragoons! Do you hear? I am captain of the Golden Band," he said proudly and haughtily, scrutinizing the company with his confident gaze. "And you haven't yet got as far as the Golden Band, because you are COWARDS! Chuproff," he cried to one of his men, "go and take the mask off Finch, or the poor boy will suffocate, and untie his arms--and give him a good crack on the head to teach him to keep watch better."The "mask" that Kovroff employed on such occasions was nothing but a piece of oilcloth cut the size of a person's face, and smeared on one side with a thick paste. Kovroff's "boys" employed this "instrument" with wonderful dexterity; one of them generally stole up behind the unconscious victim and skillfully slapped the mask in his face; the victim at once became dumb and blind, and panted from lack of breath; at the same time, if necessary, his hands were tied behind him and he was leisurely robbed, or held, as the case might be.
The Golden Band was formed in the middle of the thirties, when the first Nicholas had been about ten years on the throne. Its first founders were three Polish nobles. It was never distinguished by the number of its members, but everyone of them could honestly call himself an accomplished knave, never stopping at anything that stood in the way of a "job." The present head of the band was Lieutenant Kovroff, who was a thorough-paced rascal, in the full sense of the word. Daring, brave, self-confident, he also possessed a handsome presence, good manners, and the worldly finish known as education. Before the members of the Golden Band, and especially before Kovroff, the small rascals stood in fear and trembling. He had his secret agents everywhere, following every move of the crooks quietly but pertinaciously. At the moment when some big job was being pulled off, Kovroff suddenly appeared unexpectedly, with some of his "boys," and demanded a contribution, threatening instantly to inform the police if he did not get it--and the rogues, in order to "keep him quiet," had to give him whatever share of their plunder he graciously deigned to indicate.
Acting with extraordinary skill and acumen in all his undertakings he always managed so that not a shadow of suspicion could fall on himself and so he got a double share of the plunder: robbing the honest folk and the rogues at the same time. Kovroff escaped the contempt of the crooks because he did things on such a big scale and embarked with his Golden Band on the most desperate and dangerous enterprises that the rest of roguedom did not even dare to consider.
The rogues, whatever their rank, have a great respect for daring, skill, and force--and therefore they respected Kovroff, at the same time fearing and detesting him.
"Who are you getting that passport for?" he asked, calmly taking the paper from the table and slipping it into his pocket. Gretcka nodded toward Bodlevski.
"Aha! for you, is it? Very glad to hear it!" said Kovroff, measuring him with his eyes. "And so, gentlemen, twenty-five rubles, or good-by--to our happy meeting in the police court!""Mr. Kovroff! Allow me to speak to you as a man of honor!"Pacomius Borisovitch again interrupted. "We are only getting twenty rubles for the job. The whole gang will pledge their words of honor to that. Do you think we would lie to you and stain the honor of the gang for twenty measly rubles?""That is business. That was well said. I love a good speech, and am always ready to respect it," remarked Sergei Antonitch approvingly.
"Very well, then, see for yourself," went on the red-nosed Pacomius, "see for yourself. If we give you everything, we are doing our work and not getting a kopeck!""Let him pay," answered Kovroff, turning his eyes toward Bodlevski.
Bodlevski took out his gold watch, his only inheritance from his father, and laid it down on the table before Kovroff with the five rubles that remained.
Kovroff again measured him with his eyes and smiled.
"You are a worthy young man!" he said. "Give me your hand! I see that you will go far."And he warmly pressed the engraver's hand. "But you must know for the future," he added in a friendly but impressive way, "that Inever take anything but money when I am dealing with these fellows.
