And this constant, ubiquitous bodyguard annoyed him. Of course he was quite sensible enough to know that it was necessary. Whoever his enemy might be, Zouroff or another, he would try and kidnap him again, undeterred by the failure of the first attempt. Golitzine and the Chief of Police were quite right to put a cordon round him.
It irked him very much, this body of four patient men who guarded him day and night, not in any way obtrusively, but always within reach—lurking in the corridor of his hotel, in the passages and lobbies of the Opera House, always ready to rush to his assistance if he were suddenly surprised.
In London he could walk east, west, south, or north without fear—to the breezy heights of Hampstead, the sylvan glades of Richmond. For, if he were to seek inspiration, he must fly from closed rooms, from shut doors, and hold communion with the stars.
On the second night of his return, the four patient men accompanied him on one of his walks, scattering discreetly, but ever on the alert.
Inspiration had come to him. The fugitive notes, with difficulty recaptured, were shaping themselves into music in his brain. Suddenly a tall figure loomed out of the darkness and stood in front of him. The four silent watching men formed up and drew closer.
“Do not fear,” whispered the man; “I am a friend. I see there are men looking after you. They are members of the police, I am sure. Tell them not to be afraid for your safety; but I would like them to withdraw out of earshot.”
“I seem to remember your voice, I have a faint recollection of your face,” answered Corsini, “but at the moment I cannot recall when and where we met.”
The big man laughed softly. “Throw back your memory a little while. A lonely road leading out of a still more lonely village filled with troops and mounted police. Your train had broken down, you had taken a quiet walk. You were saying your prayers before a village ikon. There suddenly appeared a tall, bearded man who implored your charity.”
Then Corsini recognised him. “Ivan the Cuckoo, Ivan the outlaw! What are you doing here?”
“Get your friends a little out of earshot and then we can talk quietly,” was the outlaw’s answer.