Diamonds To Sit On/Chapter 40
CHAPTER XL
THE TREASURE
ONE rainy day at the end of October, Hippolyte was fussing about in Ivanopulo's room. He was in his shirt-sleeves and was working at the window-sill, for there was still no table in the room. Bender had received a commission to paint some house signs and had entrusted the work to Hippolyte. Ever since they had arrived in Moscow, nearly a month ago, Bender had been hanging about the goods yard of the October railway station hoping to discover some trace of the last chair, which undoubtedly concealed Madam Petukhov's diamonds.
Hippolyte was working hard at the metal disks and was frowning. The search for the diamonds during the last six months had completely changed him. At night he dreamt of mountains, of Iznurenkov's eyes, of sinking ships and drowning men. He thought he saw bricks falling from the sky and a yawning chasm at his feet.
Bender had been with Hippolyte all the time and had not noticed any difference in him, but actually he was extraordinarily changed. He did not walk as he used to do; the expression of his eyes was wild, and his moustache had grown enormously and stuck out fiercely over his mouth. But it was not only his outward appearance that had changed: his character had developed new traits—determination and harshness. Three episodes had helped to bring out these new feelings: his miraculous escape from the Vassuki chess-players; his first appearance as a beggar in Pyatigorsk; and finally the earthquake, from which date he had nursed a secret hatred for Bender.
Hippolyte had grown suspicious. He was afraid that Bender would find the chair, open it without saying anything to him, and after pocketing the treasure would decamp and leave him in the lurch. He did not dare to voice his suspicions, for he knew Bender’s character and heavy hand. Each day as he worked at the window-sill, cleaning the paint with an old jagged razor, he grew more and more dejected. Each day he wondered whether Bender would come back, or whether he, a former marshal of nobility, would have to die of starvation in Moscow.
But each morning Bender came back, although he did not bring any good news. His energy and cheerfulness were inexhaustible, and he never lost heart. One day Hippolyte heard some one hurrying along the corridor and knocking against the iron safe; then the door was flung open. The great schemer, drenched to the skin, was standing on the threshold. His cheeks were glowing like two red apples. He was breathing heavily.
‘Hippolyte Matveyevich!’ he shouted, ‘listen! Listen! Hippolyte Matveyevich!’
Hippolyte was surprised. Bender rarely called him by his name and patronymic. Then he suddenly realized . . .
‘You’ve found it! ’ he gasped.
‘Yes! I’ve found it!’
‘Don’t shout! Every one can hear us!’
‘Yes, that’s true! ’said Bender breathlessly. ‘ It’s found! It’s found! I can show it to you now, if you like. It’s in the Railway Workers’ Club. . . . It’s a new club. . . . Opened yesterday. . . . How did I find it? It was most terribly difficult. A marvellous plan, brilliantly executed! It was wonderful! ’
Without waiting for Hippolyte to pull on his coat. Bender ran out into the corridor and Hippolyte joined him on the stairs. Both men threw excited questions at each other. Soon they were racing down the streets towards Kalanchev Square. They did not even think of getting into a tram; they were too excited. Look at the way you’re dressed,’ chattered Bender.
‘No one would dream of going about like that. You must have a smart shirt, silk socks, and, of course, a top hat. There’s something noble in your face. Pussy. Tell me, were you really a marshal of nobility?’
They went into the club and Bender pointed out the chair to Hippolyte. It was standing in the chess-room and looked quite an ordinary Gambs chair although it contained the treasure.
Bender dragged Hippolyte out into the empty corridor. Then he went up to a window, unscrewed the catch and put it in his pocket.
'Now,’ he said, ‘we can easily slip through the window to-night and get into the club. Remember, Pussy, it’s the third window from the front door.’
The friends wandered round for some time and examined the club. ‘ Come on, old man,’ said Bender, at last, ‘ I’ve still got twenty roubles left. We must have some beer before our visit to-night. What?
You’re turning your nose up at beer? Never mind.
Pussy, to-morrow you can drink as much champagne as you like.’
On their way home from the restaurant Bender was in a very good humour. He had his arm round Hippolyte’s shoulder and was teasing him.
‘You know. Pussy, you’re a very nice old man, but I shan’t give you more than ten per cent. I swear I shan’t. Now what do you want money for?’
'What d’you mean, what for ?’ said Hippolyte testily.
Bender laughed good-temperedly and went on teasing him.
‘What will you buy, Pussy? You know you haven’t any imagination, and I’m quite sure fifteen thousand will be ample for you. After all, you’ll soon die; you’re getting on, you know, and what will you want money for? When I come to think of it, I don’t think I’ll give you anything at all; it would absolutely THE TREASURE
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ruin you. But I tell you what, you can be my secre tary. What d’you say to that ? Forty roubles a month and your keep, and four free evenings a week. Your clothes, tea money, and insurance. Well, what do you say to the offer ? ’ Hippolyte pushed his tormentor to one side and walked on rapidly. Such jokes roused him to a pitch of frenzy. Bender overtook Hippolyte outside Ivanopulo’s room. ‘ Are you really offended ? ’ he asked. ‘ I was only joking. You’ll get your three per cent. Believe me. Pussy, three per cent is quite enough for you.” Hippolyte glowered at him and walked into the room.
- Listen, Pussy,’ said Bender. ‘ Say you agree to
three per cent. Say you agree. Anybody else would. You won’t need to pay rental, thanks to Ivanopulo, who is in Tver for a year, and if you don’t want to stay here, then you can always come and be my valet. It’ll be a nice soft job.’ When Bender saw that Hippolyte refused to be provoked any further he yawned, stretched himself, took a deep breath, and then said : ‘ Well, my friend, get your pockets ready. We shall go to the club at dawn. That’s the best time. The night watchman win be asleep and will be dreaming sweet dreams for which they often lose their jobs. And, meanwhile, dear friend, I advise you to have a rest.’ Bender lay down on the three chairs, which had been gathered from various parts of Moscow, and before falhng asleep, he mumbled something about: ‘ As my valet. Good wages. . . . Keep. . . . Tea money. . . . Well, well, I was only joking. . . . Let the good work go on.’ Then the great schemer went to sleep. He fell into a deep, peaceful and dreamless sleep. Hippolyte went out into the street. He was angry and felt desperate. The moon was shining and there were a few clouds in the sky. The street lamps were burning. A drunken man, who was struggling and screaming, was being thrown out of a public-house. Hippolyte frowned and went back to his room. His one wish was to end everything as quickly as possible.
He walked into the room, looked sternly at Bender, who was sleeping peacefully, took off his glasses, polished them, and then put them on again. He picked up the razor off the window-siU. There were daubs of dry oil paint on its rough edge. He put the razor in his pocket, passed Bender without looking at him, but he could hear his even breathing. He went out into the corridors, where everything was unusually quiet. Every one had gone to bed. Hippolyte smiled to himself in a most sinister manner, passed his hand over his forehead and smiled again. He went as far as the staircase and listened attentively. There was not a sound. He stole back into the room, took the twenty roubles from Bender’s coat, which was hanging over the back of a chair, put the pincers into his pocket, pulled his cap well over his eyes, and then listened again.
Bender was still fast asleep and was breathing evenly. Hippolyte’s head was throbbing. Without hurrying he rolled up his right sleeve well above his elbow, wound a towel round his bare arm, went to the door, took the razor from his pocket, and after measuring with his eye the distance between Bender and the door, he switched off the light. But the room remained slightly lit by the street lamp.
‘All the better,’ thought Hippolyte as he went up to Bender’s side. Then he stretched out his right arm; with all his strength he slashed at Bender’s throat with the razor, immediately withdrew it, and jumped away to the waU. The great schemer uttered a sound like water gurgling in a tap. Hippolyte, avoiding any bloodstains, crept towards the door and looked over his shoulder at Bender who was lying stretched out. A black pool was at the foot of one of the chairs.
'What’s that pool? ’thought Hippolyte. ' Of course, blood. . . . Comrade Bender is dead.’
Hippolyte threw the towel away, carefully put the razor on the floor, walked out of the room, and quietly closed the door behind him.
The great schemer had died on the threshold of happiness.
Out in the street Hippolyte frowned and muttered:
‘ Three per cent! The diamonds are mine now!’
He walked towards Kalanchev Square and stopped outside the third window of the Railway Workers’ Club. The windows of the new building were glistening in the grey morning light, and he had no difficulty in climbing nimbly on to the window-sill. He opened the window and jumped noiselessly into the corridor. Knowing his way, he went into the chess-room, and soon found the chair. He was in no hurry, now that the great schemer was dead.
Hippolyte sat down on the floor, held the chair between his legs, and began to draw the nails out of the upholstery. He did not miss one of them and at the sixty-second nail his work was done. The English chintz and the canvas under it were loose. All he had to do was to lift them up to find the large cases and small cases and the various boxes which were all filled with precious stones.
‘I shall get into a car immediately,’ he thought, for he had learnt wisdom from Bender; ‘ and I shall go straight to the railway station, and from there I shall make for the Polish frontier. It will cost me a diamond or two, but once there----- ’ And longing to be in Poland as quickly as possible, he dragged the chintz and the canvas off the chair. His eyes saw springs, beautiful English springs, and stuffing, wonderful pre War quality stuffing such as you do not see nowadays. But there was nothing else in the chair. Hippolyte fingered the stuffing mechanically, and with his legs still gripping the chair he continued to repeat: ‘ Why aren’t they here? Why aren’t they here?’
It was almost daylight when Hippolyte left the chair, and forgetting the pincers and his cap he climbed slowly and wearily out of the window and dropped into the street.
‘I can’t understand it! I can’t understand it!’
He began to walk up and down in front of the building and his lips were saying: ‘I can’t understand it! I can’t understand it! ’
Now and again he would shake his head and exclaim that he did not understand. The excitement had been too much for him. He had grown old in the space of five minutes.
‘All sorts of people come here,’ he suddenly heard a voice say. Hippolyte looked round and saw a watchman standing at his side. The watchman was an old man and had a kind face.
‘Yes, they come and come,’ said the old man communicatively, for he was tired of his night watch.
'And I see that you’re interested too, comrade. Our club, I may say, is a most unusual one.’
Hippolyte looked agonizingly at the old man.
‘Yes,’ said the watchman, ‘it is a most unusual club. There isn’t another club like it.’
‘What is there so unusual about it?’ asked Hippolyte, trying to coUect his thoughts.
The old man was delighted to be asked such a question, for it was obvious that he was fond of telling the story about the unusual club.
‘Well,’ began the old man, ‘I’ve been a watchman here for ten years, and just you listen to what happened. You see, there was a club here—an ordinary kind of club—and I was the watchman. It was a poor sort of club. . . . We heated it and heated it, but we could never get it warm. One day Comrade Krasilnikov comes up to me and asks: "Where's all the firewood going? What are you doing with it?" "Firewood?" said I. "What d'you think I'm doing with the firewood? I can't eat it, now can I?' Comrade Krasilnikov did what he could with the place, but it was no good. If it wasn't the damp, it was the cold. Then the musical circle hadn't a room to practise in, and the dramatic society simply froze at their rehearsals. They asked for a five years' credit to build a new club, but I don't think anything came of it. And then in the spring Comrade Krasilnikov bought a chair for the stage. It was a good chair, a nice soft one.
Hippolyte leant forward and listened intently. He was almost fainting, and the old man chuckled with delight as he told him how one day he was standing on the chair to take an electric bulb out of a lamp when he slipped and fell.
'Yes,' said the old man, 'and as I fell I ripped the chair seat—the cover I mean. And what d' you think I saw? Little bits of glass came pouring out of the hole and white beads on a thread!'
'Beads?' Hippolyte repeated.
'Yes, beads,' said the old man; 'and I looked and I saw some little boxes. I didn't touch them. I went straight to Comrade Krasilnikov, and I told him what I'd found. And then I had to report about it to the committee. I didn't touch the little boxes. No, not I! Just as well I didn't! What do you think? Id found a treasure that had been hidden by a bourgeois!'
'Where is the treasure?' shouted Hippolyte.
'Where? Where?' repeated the old man. 'Ah! you need to have some imagination, my dear man. The treasure is here!'
'Where? Where?' asked Hippolyte excitedly.
'Here in front of you!' shouted the old man, feeling delighted at the effect of his story. 'Here in front of you! Polish your glasses, my friend, and take a good look at it! A club has been built out of it. Don't you see? The club! Central heating, a restaurant,! a theatre: everything you can possibly want!' Hippolyte was speechless, and without moving he stared helplessly at the watchman.
'So that's where my mother-in-law's diamonds are!' he thought. 'All here, All the hundred and fifty thousand roubles and nought nought copecks, as Bender used to say.'
The diamonds had been turned into glass for the windows; the pearls had been turned into a cool gymnasium; a diamond tiara had become a theatre with a revolving stage; the rubies had been changed into electric lamps; the emeralds had provided a wonderful library; and the other 'beads' had been turned into a children's crêche, work-rooms, a chess—club, and billiard-tables.
The treasure was all there. It had been preserved and had even increased. It could be touched, but it could not be carried away; it had passed into the— service of others.
Hippolyte touched the granite front of the club. It was cold; it sent a shiver down his spine. He gave a shout and a cry; it was a mad, savage cry—the cry of a wounded animal....
He pushed the watchman to one side, stumbled down the street, and disappeared round a corner.
The autumn sun had risen and Moscow stirred into life again.
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