“That goes without saying.  That stands to reason,” assented Shadursky.  “I can get the money at once and I am just going abroad, in a day or two at the latest.  So it would be foolish to miss such a chance.  So it is a bargain?” And he held out his hand to Kovroff.

“How a bargain?” objected the cautious Sergei Antonovitch.  “I am not personally concerned in the matter, and you must admit, my dear prince, that I can make no promises for my acquaintance.”

“I don’t mean that!” cried Shadursky.  “I only ask you to arrange for me to meet him.  Bring us together—­and drop him a hint that I do not object to buying his wares.  You will confer a great obligation on me.”

“Oh, that is quite a different matter.  That I can always do; the more so, because we are such good friends.  Why should I not do you such a trifling service?  As far as an introduction is concerned, you may count on it.”  And they cordially shook each other by the hand.

XVI

GOLD DUST

Both Kallash and Kovroff were too cautious to take an immediate, personal part in the gold-dust sale.  There was a certain underling, Mr. Escrocevitch by name, at Sergei Kovroff’s beck and call—­a shady person, rather dirty in aspect, and who was, therefore, only admitted to Sergei’s presence by the back door and through the kitchen, and even then only at times when there were no outsiders present.

Mr. Escrocevitch was a person of general utility and was especially good at all kinds of conjuring tricks.  Watches, snuff-boxes, cigar-cases, silver spoons, and even heavy bronze paper-weights acquired the property of suddenly vanishing from under his hands, and of suddenly reappearing in a quite unexpected quarter.  This valuable gift had been acquired by Mr. Escrocevitch in his early years, when he used to wander among the Polish fairs, swallowing burning flax for the delectation of the public and disgorging endless yards of ribbon and paper.

Mr. Escrocevitch was a precious and invaluable person also owing to his capacity of assuming any role, turning himself into any given character, and taking on the corresponding tone, manners, and appearance, and he was, further, a pretty fair actor.

He it was who was chosen to play the part of the Siberian employee.

Not more than forty-eight hours had passed since the previous conversation.  Prince Shadursky was just up, when his footman announced to him that a Mr. Valyajnikoff wished to see him.

The prince put on his dressing gown and went into the drawing-room, where the tolerably presentable but strangely dressed person of Mr. Escrocevitch presented itself to him.

“Permit me to have the honor of introducing myself,” he began, bowing to Prince Shadursky; “I am Ivanovitch Valyajnikoff.  Mr. Sergei Antonovitch Kovroff was so good as to inform me of a certain intention of yours about the dust.  So, if your excellency has not changed your mind, I am ready to sell it to you with pleasure.”