THE LITTLE ANARCHIST

Thames Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 17971, 21 August 1930, Page 3

THE LITTLE ANARCHIST

I'OUR SERIAL STORY 1

(By ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT)

Author of "The Queen’s Advocate,” "When I Was Czar,” etc., etc,

CHAPTER Y.—‘(Continued.) “WHO IS YOUR ENEMY?” Parker was as much frightened as I was puzzled. I was inclined rather to laugh at the incident and took it no more seriously than the Prince’s warninjg—not to venture out on foot. But if I could not go to any hotel I must remain where I was. That was clear.

The Prince’s warning I could easily test, and accordingly I started to walk to Mirla’s house, and resolved to call at the Kaiserhof on the way, to question M. Bernhoff. But I had not gone a hundred yards before I found that a man was following me, and as soon as I had - turned the first corner he quickened his pace. I slowed up and when he was within a yard or two I faced . round and waited. “Mr Carstairs,” he said as he stoped. “Well, what is it?" “You don’t know me?” “Good heavens! Andreas Viralmi! You?” I exclaimed in intense aston-. ishment as I recognised in him a young fellow I had known four or five years before in Vilna. I held out my hand. I “Yes, Andreas Viralmi,” he replied, not taking my hand. “You don’t see my hand,” said I quietly. “You might not offer it to me if you knew. lam one of the strike leaders.” “We English don’t turn our backs on a friend, Viralmi, just because his political views change. Come, shake hand and don’t make my arm ache; there’s a good fellow.” He appeared t° be touched by this and, after a pause, wrung my hand with a warm grasp. Then with a somewhat apprehensive glance he said: “I want to speak to you—I must, [ indeed. W r ill you trust me? I swear I to God I won’t betray you.” j “Of course I will.” i “Then walk on ahead of me. Take i the fourth turning on the left—Rosj tov Street— £o to the end and turn jto the right { the twelfth house on the right-hand side. I must follow | you.” j Considerably mystified I did as he ! wished and walked on speculating j very curiously on the reason for his | extraordinary conduct; and how he : had found out my presence in Minsk. I Absorbed by these,thoughts I reachi ed the middle of tbe street he had

named, when a young woman at the

gate of a corner house on the opposite side stared hard at me and then dashed across and spoke my name. “Half Minsk seems to know me,” I thought. But at a closer glance I recognised her as the young Jewess who had been rescued at the Kaiserhof the previous . night. “I could not rest without thanking you, sir. Would to heaven it were in my power to show my gratitude. But for you I should never have seen to-day.” “You must thank M. Bernhoff, not

me,’ I said. “No, no, I know him. He thinks of his hotel, not of the life of a poor Jewess. It was you. I went to the hotel this morning to ask for you; and he thrust me from the door as though I had been dirt.”. It is always awkward to answer rhapsodies. “Well, I am glad you are safe. Do you live here?” “I am servant to Father Tesla —the priest. But he does not know I am not a Christian. I was home last night; oh, God, I cannot think of it. My mother and brother were both killed, and I put on my dead brother’s clothes to escape. Why is heaven so hard to us Jews?” “It isn’t heaven, my girl, it’s Russia. You would like to leave the country?” “Oh, sir, they will kill me if I stay. Every day, every hour, every minute I am looking for the knout or the knife.” “Well, I won’t forget you and will see what can be done. lam staying with Prince Volonesh ” “Count Otto Zuloff lives there. You are his friend?” and she drew away from me as if in disgust. “There is some story behind that,” I said. “It is my sister’s story. Let him tell it you.” . “He’s not likely to do anything of the kind—l am not exactly his friend.’” She seized my arm and peered with eager shining eyes into my face. “Can you help me to revenge?” “If I can help you t° leave Russia I will. Now go, please.” She still gripped my arm and stared at me with the same tense searching expression. Then very gradually she smiled and her eyes filled with tears. “I have a friend at last, thank God”; and turning quickly from me, she hurried across the street, leaving me ‘ to continue my way more mystified than ever. When I reached the house which had been described, I halted and

(To be continued.)

Viralmi came up, looking anxiously about him in all directions before he opened the door. Then he hurried me inside, closed it behind us, and led me up a flight of stairs into a neatly, but severely furnished room that might have been the study of a. scholar. I glanced round at the many books, the pictures on the walls, the writing desk, the open evidences of study, and then at him. "Still a student, Viralmi?”

He thrust his white fingers through his hair, pushing it off his white square forehead—he was a strikinglooking fellow —and fixed his black eyes on me. “Not a student now, monsieur—a practitioner.”