“How do you know what he says then?”
“I learn Russian at school,” said William with admirable presence of mind.
“You’re a linguist,” commented the Toreador.
“No, I’m not,” corrected William, “I’m English like you.”
They were on the way to the coach-house.
“I may as well see it through,” said the Toreador. “It’s so intriguing. It’s like Alice in Wonderland. A Russian brought a message from all the Russians and walked all the way from Russia. He must have started when he was quite a child. It’s better than being bored to death watching idiots making still greater idiots of themselves.”
“This is the coach-house,” said the Brigand.
“It’s dark.”
“Yes,” said the Brigand. “He’s right in the corner over there. He’s just having a little sleep.”
The Toreador stepped into the coach-house. The door was immediately slammed and bolted from outside. The Toreador took out his pocket torch and looked round the room. It was empty. No Russian in Russian boots, etc., with a message from all the Russians slept in a corner. The only means of exit were the door and a barred window. He went to the barred window. Four small stern Brigands stood outside.