Vera and Russia and everything.
Wasn't he wonderful that week? Like a child who has suddenly found
Paradise.... Could any Englishman ever be cheated like that by
anything? Why a fellow would be locked up for a loony if he looked as
happy as Markovitch looked that week. It wouldn't be decent.... Well,
then...." He paused dramatically. "What's happened to him since,
Durward?"
"How do you mean? What's happened to him since?" I asked.
"I mean just what I say. Something happened to him at the end of that
week. I can put my finger almost exactly on the day--the Thursday of
that week. What was it? That's one of the things I've come to ask you
about?"
"I don't know. I was ill," I said.
"No, but has nobody told you anything?"
"I haven't heard a word," I said.
His face fell. "I felt sure you'd help me?" he said.
"Tell me the rest and perhaps I can put things together," I suggested.
"The rest is really Semyonov. The queerest things have been happening.
Of course, the thing is to get rid of all one's English ideas, isn't it?
and that's so damned difficult. It's no use saying an English fellow
wouldn't do this or that.
Pages:
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467