"It is true.You can't do me as much harm as I have done you, whether you think so or not.All the harm that can be done me by you and yours is already accomplished.My name is not Touman, but Matiev.Listen.I had a son that was the light of my eyes.
Neither my son nor I had ever been concerned with politics.I was employed in Moscow.My son was a student.During the Red Week we went out, my son and I, to see a little of what was happening over in the Presnia quarter.They said everybody had been killed over there! We passed before the Presnia gate.Soldiers called to us to stop because they wished to search us.We opened our coats.
The soldiers saw my son's student waistcoat and set up a cry.They unbuttoned the vest, drew a note-book out of his pocket and they found a workman's song in it that had been published in the Signal.
The soldiers didn't know how to read.They believed the paper was a proclamation, and they arrested my son.I demanded to be arrested with him.They pushed me away.I ran to the governor's house.
Trebassof had me thrust away from his door with blows from the butt-ends of his Cossacks' guns.And, as I persisted, they kept me locked up all that night and the morning of the next day.At noon I was set free.I demanded my son and they replied they didn't know what I was talking about.But a soldier that I recognized as having arrested my son the evening before pointed out a van that was passing, covered with a tarpaulin and surrounded by Cossacks.'Your son is there,' he said; 'they are taking him to the graves.' Mad with despair, I ran after the van.It went to the outskirts of Golountrine cemetery.There I saw in the white snow a huge grave, wide, deep.I shall see it to my last minute.Two vans had already stopped near the hole.Each van held thirteen corpses.The vans were dumped into the trench and the soldiers commenced to sort the bodies into rows of six.I watched for my son.At last I recognized him in a body that half hung over the edge of the trench.Horrors of suffering were stamped in the expression of his face.I threw myself beside him.I said that I was his father.They let me embrace him a last time and count his wounds.He had fourteen.
Someone had stolen the gold chain that had hung about his neck and held the picture of his mother, who died the year before.Iwhispered into his ear, I swore to avenge him.Forty-eight hours later I had placed myself at the disposition of the Revolutionary Committee.A week had not passed before Touman, whom, it seems, I resemble and who was one of the Secret Service agents in Kiew, was assassinated in the train that was taking him to St.Petersburg.
The assassination was kept a secret.I received all his papers and I took his place with you.I was doomed beforehand and I asked nothing better, so long as I might last until after the execution of Trebassof.Ah, how I longed to kill him with my own hands! But another had already been assigned the duty and my role was to help him.And do you suppose I am going to tell you the name of that other? Never! And if you discover that other, as you have discovered me, another will come, and another, and another, until Trebassof has paid for his crimes.That is all I have to say to you, Koupriane.As for you, my little fellow," added he, turning to Rouletabille, "I wouldn't give much for your bones.Neither of you will last long.That is my consolation."Koupriane had not interrupted the man.He looked at him in silence, sadly.
"You know, my poor man, you will be hanged now?" he said.
"No," growled Rouletabille."Monsieur Koupriane, I'll bet you my purse that he will not be hanged.""And why not?" demanded the Chief of rolice, while, upon a sign from him, they took away the false Touman.
"Because it is I who denounced him."
"What a reason! And what would you like me to do?""Guard him for me; for me alone, do you understand?""In exchange for what?"
"In exchange for the life of General Trebassof, if I must put it that way.""Eh? The life of General Trebassof! You speak as if it belonged to you, as if you could dispose of it."Rouletabille laid his hand on Koupriane's arm.
"Perhaps that's so," said he.
"Would you like me to tell you one thing, Monsieur Rouletabille?
It is that General Trebassof's life, after what has just escaped the lips of this Touman, who is not Touman, isn't worth any more than - than yours if you remain here.Since you are disposed not to do anything more in this affair, take the train, monsieur, take the train, and go."Rouletabille walked back and forth, very much worked up; then suddenly he stopped short.
"Impossible," he said."It is impossible.I cannot; I am not able to go yet.""Why?"
"Good God, Monsieur Koupriane, because I have to interview the President of the Duma yet, and complete my little inquiry into the politics of the cadets.""Oh, indeed!"
Koupriane looked at him with a sour grin.
"What are you going to do with that man?" demanded Rouletabille.
"Have him fixed up first."
"And then?"
"Then take him before the judges."
"That is to say, to the gallows?"
"Certainly."
"Monsieur Koupriane, I offer it to you again.Life for life.Give me the life of that poor devil and I promise you General Trebassof's.""Explain yourself."
"Not at all.Do you promise me that you will maintain silence about the case of that man and that you will not touch a hair of his head?"Koupriane looked at Rouletabille as he had looked at him during the altercation they had on the edge of the Gulf.He decided the same way this time.
"Very well," said he."You have my word.The poor devil!""You are a brave man, Monsieur Koupriane, but a little quick with the whip...""What would you expect? One's work teaches that.""Good morning.No, don't trouble to show me out.I am compromised enough already," said Rouletabille, laughing.
"Au revoir, and good luck! Get to work interviewing the President of the Duma," added Koupriane knowingly, with a great laugh.
But Rouletabille was already gone.
"That lad," said the Chief of Police aloud to himself, "hasn't told me a bit of what he knows."
