England -- Fiction; Political fiction; Politicians -- Fiction; Spy stories
Next day I learnt with satisfaction that this town was situated on the
main post-road between Maryampol and Rossieny, and that about thirty
miles due north along this road was Skerstymone. The innkeeper, at an
exorbitant figure, provided me with a rickety old cart and a pair of
shaggy horses, driven by an uncouth-looking lad, wearing an old peaked
cap so large that his brow and eyes were hidden. An hour before noon I
set out upon my expedition. Our way lay across the boundless Nawa
steppe, a plain which stretched away as far as the eye could reach
without a single tree to break its monotony, until at a wretched little
village called Katyle we forded a shallow stream, the Penta, and
presently passed through the town of Szaki. Soon afterwards the road
became full of deep ruts that jolted us terribly, and for many miles we
travelled through a pine forest until at last we found ourselves at the
ferry before Skerstymone.
In the mystic light of evening the place, standing on the opposite bank
of the Niemen, presented a novel and rather picturesque aspect, with its
wooden houses, their green and brown roofs of painted sheet-iron, but
when landing from the ferry I was soon undeceived. It was one of those
towns best seen from a distance. The dirt and squalor were horrible.
For a fortnight I remained at the wretched little inn making inquiries
in all quarters, but could hear nothing of the pretty dark-eyed girl who
had earned such unenviable notoriety, and who in Vienna spent such an
enormous sum in a single year that her extravagance had become
proverbial, even in that most reckless of cities. That she had been
here was certain from what Bingham had told us, and somehow I had an
instinctive feeling that here the dainty-handed refugee had assumed a
fresh identity, it being dangerous for her to proceed further into
Russia, so well-known was she. Therefore, with fixed determination, I
still prosecuted my inquiries everywhere, until I found the police
regarding me with considerable mistrust, for the officers of public
order are everywhere ubiquitous in the giant empire of the Tzar.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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