“Listen.” The Kommissar leant forward and tapped the table with a fat white forefinger. “The American comes to Moskawa, two — three months ago, is it not. He disappears — all right, we find him again — on our train, attempting to enter the forbidden territory. Is he a fool — is he a spy? We do not know, all right — put him in prison — that is that. Then you come to Moskawa. All night — all day, you inquire for the American. One day our agent hears you talk with a man in the Zoo — the name ‘Shulimoff’ is spoken. All Russia knows of the buried treasure of the Shulimoffs. We know now that Romanovsk was the American’s destination. It was for these jewels he came to Russia. I have only to supply to you, through Valeria Petrovna, the information that he is in prison at Tobolsk; you will go there to procure his release — then you, or he, or all of you, will come on here to find the treasure. All I have to do is to make my plans to meet you here. Where are the jewels? Let us waste no more time!”
“Elementary, my dear Watson,” murmured the Duke into Simon’s ear.
Simon chuckled suddenly into his hand.
“What you say?” snapped Leshkin.
De Richleau bowed. “Merely a little joke we have in England about people with red hair!”
As Leshkin glowered at the Duke, Simon added: “sorry we can’t help you.”
An unpleasant light came into the Kommissar’s small, red-rimmed eyes. “You do not think so now, perhaps, but I shall find ways to persuade you.”
De Richleau intervened. “You will excuse me,” he said, politely. “Aron has already told you that we have parted from the American. Both of us have heard about the jewels, but neither of us know where they are.”
The Russian gave him a shrewd look. “There may be something in what you say. Fortunately the American cannot get away — we shall catch him by tomorrow night. However, if you know nothing, you are of no use to me — again, why should we waste time? I will have you shot!”
“And why should you do that?” asked De Richleau, quietly.