The Duke and Simon were soon seated at a small table in the restaurant.
“Well — er — any news?” Simon asked at once, but the only reply he received was a by no means gentle kick, from the Duke’s big Hessian boot under the table. Then that amazingly interesting and erudite man launched forth into a long dissertation upon the marvels of Moscow — its wonderful historical associations lying side by side with all these modern developments, which, in another two generations, might make it the capital of the civilized world.
It was well that De Richleau talked fluently, and enjoyed talking, since the service of the restaurant was quite appalling. They had to wait twenty-five minutes before a waiter condescended to take their order — and another twenty minutes before the first course arrived.
Despite his anxiety to hear if any news of Rex had been secured by the Duke in Helsingfors or Leningrad, Simon remained patient through the long wait and the plain but satisfying meal that followed. He never tired of listening to the Duke, and the dullness of the fare was relieved by a large helping of caviare. Simon, who was patient by nature, could be especially patient if the caviare was good and plentiful!
Directly they had finished they donned their furs, and left the hotel, but De Richleau did not take the road to the River District. Instead he turned up the Petrowka Boulvarde, saying to Simon as he did so: “I feel that now is the time to ascertain about our Hoyo de Monterreys.”
“Um,” Simon agreed, “hope they came through all right?”
“Yes, but I did not wish to collect them until you had joined me.”
They walked on for some twenty minutes, turning occasionally to right or left; meanwhile De Richleau still avoided the subject of Rex, and continued his dissertation upon Moscow.
Simon looked about him with interest Moscow was quite unlike any large city he had seen — the great majority of the buildings were in a shocking state of repair, the paint peeling from shop-fronts and doorways. The windows broken, boarded over, or covered with grime. Nine out of ten shops were empty and deserted; those that were still occupied had little in their windows other than a bust of Lenin and a Soviet flag, except here and there, where long queues of people waited outside one of the State Co-operative Stores. In contrast to this atmosphere of poverty and desolation, a great deal of demolition was going on, and in nearly every street new buildings were springing up — great structures of steel, concrete, and glass.
The side streets showed ruts and ditches guaranteed to ruin the springs of any car, but all the main roads had been newly paved with asphalt. Traffic was practically non-existent, which gave the streets a strange appearance.