Chapter XXIV: New Tactics

From that time on, Simmons redoubled his vigilance; and at seven o’clock the taciturn and lynx-eyed Matschka returned to the job.

Grail had hoped that possibly their opportunity would come at breakfast, but in this he was destined to be disappointed. Only one of them was permitted to eat at a time, a single arm being freed sufficiently to allow them to feed themselves, and the big Russian standing warily at hand to check the first suspicious movement.

Moreover, since it was not deemed wise to draw attention by starting a fire in the shack, the repast consisted solely of cold bread and meat, and no table implements which might have proved of some service were handed out.

The day wore on in a succession of frustrated hopes. Ten o’clock brought Simmons on as sentinel again, but, warned by his previous experience, he was, if no less loquacious, decidedly more watchful. The end of his shift at one o’clock found the prisoners as far as ever from a solution of their problem, and the time at their disposal half gone.

Practically their sole hope lay now in what scheme they could frame up to circumvent Simmons when he again came on from four to seven; and Grail by this time had about come to the conclusion that Simmons was almost as difficult to circumvent as Matschka.

Perhaps, however, came the thought, he could be won or brought over to their aid. The deserter had dropped one or two remarks which rather indicated that he was not altogether satisfied with the bargain he had made, and was chafing under the autocratic rule of his Muscovite employer.

Recalling these symptoms of discontent, and reflecting, too, that Simmons would no doubt sell out his present associates as readily as he had the former ones, the adjutant set himself to pondering the arguments and promises which he considered would prove most persuasive.

By a stroke of luck, he had an opportunity to use them sooner than he had expected.

About two o’clock, Minowsky appeared with a message from their leader directing Matschka to return to Brentford, and surrender himself to the police.

“All you’ve got to do, he says,” explained the emissary, “is to stick to it that you don’t know Simmons, and that, if he used your room, it was entirely without your knowledge or consent. They haven’t got any real evidence against you, and the worst you can get, the chief says, in a couple of days behind the bars. Anyhow, you’ve got to do it, he says, to throw off the detectives. While they’re busy trying to get something out of you, they won’t be poking around in the other directions, and maybe stumbling onto something that would hurt.”

The big Russian, trained to military obedience, did not hesitate, or even question the order. With an indifferent grunt, he arose, and at once prepared to accompany the other back to town.

Left thus alone in charge of Simmons, Grail lost no time in commencing his overtures; and Cato, promptly scenting what was in the wind, ably seconded his efforts.

For a time, Simmons paid little heed to them. He was busy poring over a newspaper which Minowsky had brought, and from his unhappy expression it was evident that he was far from pleased with what he read.

Finally, he cast the sheet from him, and sat nursing his knees in moody silence.

“By golly, it begins to look to me like I was picked for the goat,” he muttered resentfully. “What I done ain’t a patch to what the rest of the crowd is up to, and it was all for their benefit, too. Yet, do they try to protect me in any way? Are they trying to hand the cops any false steer, as the chief promised they would? Naw, they ain’t. Instead, this stiff of a Pepernik, when they question him, comes out and gives me the worst kind of a black eye; says he’s seen me hanging around the rooming house often, and that he caught me once in his own room, being only kept from handing me over to the police by my claiming that the door was open, and I come in by mistake.

“Does that look like they was protecting me?” he demanded. “If they wanted to do what was right, would I be sitting here shivering for fear the detectives might pop in on me at any minute? No; I’d be a thousand miles away, with a good disguise on me, and plenty of money in my pocket.

“Why, how do I know”--he sprang to his feet and began excitedly pacing the floor--“but what the whole crowd is making a duck right now, and leaving me to hold the bag? Maybe this calling off Matschka is just a stall to give him a chance to blow with the rest. All the chief really wanted was to get the colonel. As he himself said, he didn’t have nothing against you two.”

Needless to say, Grail and Cato both sympathized with his complaints, and played upon his apprehensions, until finally when he seemed sufficiently worked up, the adjutant made a flat-footed proposition.

“Turn State’s evidence on the crowd, while you have a chance, Simmons,” he urged. “Don’t let them give you the worst of it. Right now you have everything in your own hands, and by telling the truth and giving up this gang to justice, you yourself will get off scot-free, or with only a few years’ imprisonment at the most. To-morrow it may be too late.”

With these and many other persuasions they sought to convince him; but Simmons, although manifestly impressed, still hesitated.

“I don’t dare,” he whimpered. “That captain told me what would happen to me if I ever turned on him. There’s Russian spies all over this country, he says, and every one of them would make it his special business to hunt me down and get me. They never forget, he says, and they never give up; and, believe me, what he says they do when they finally land you is enough to make your blood run cold.”

Grail almost found it in his heart to pity the poor wretch thus tossed between contrary fears; but the important thing with him, of course, was to gain his freedom, and he labored all the more assiduously to allay the dread inspired by Rezonoff’s threats, and at the same time urge the advantages of coming over to the side of the law.

It was a purely commercial argument, however, which finally won the day.

“Simmons,” he said abruptly, “if you will release Cato and myself immediately, I will give you a thousand dollars the moment we get back to the fort.”

For a minute longer the man wavered. Then the prospect of a thousand-dollar spree in Brentford’s gilded resorts overcoming even his terror of Russian vengeance, he bent over the prisoners, and began fumbling at the knots.