A few minutes of rapid walking brought him to a small square, on one side of which were more storehouses, and on the other a number of drinking places, and cheap lodging houses. Here were a number of idle Russians, many the worse for liquor. To avoid them Gilbert walked past as rapidly as he could.
He had just reached the corner of a side street when three half-drunken Russian stevedores hailed him, and as he did not stop, two caught him by the arm.
“Come and be cheerful!” cried one, in a thick voice. “Don’t be afraid to spend your money.”
“Thank you, but I have no money to spare,” answered Gilbert briefly, and attempted to pass on.
“Ho! ho! just to hear the Englishman!” cried the fellow. “For a truth I’m sure your pockets are lined with rubles.”
“Or if not with rubles at least with kopecks,” hiccoughed the second Russian. “Come, stranger, let us drink to the success of Russia.”
“Aye!” put in a third. “The success of Russia, and may every dog of a Nippon lose his life in this war!”
The trio gathered closely around Gilbert, and one, the dirtiest of the lot, almost embraced the ex-lieutenant.
“I tell you, I have nothing for you!” cried Gilbert sharply. “Now let me pass.”
“What, will you not drink to the success of Russia and to the health of our Czar?” growled one of the trio.