Nello happened to get hold of a man who could speak a little French, in a halting, but intelligent way.
“Quite a commotion for such a tranquil spot. What is it that is on the tapis?” inquired Corsini.
The man explained in his slow French. “Something out of the usual, Monsieur. Have you ever heard of a terrible fellow, one Ivan, nicknamed ‘The Cuckoo’?”
No, Nello had never heard of him. “Is he a very formidable personage this ‘Ivan the Cuckoo,’ then?”
The man explained elaborately that Ivan was a much-feared outlaw, that he was in the vicinity with a gang of desperadoes and assassins. He was a convict who had escaped from the mines of Siberia, and had gathered round him a band of miscreants as desperate as himself, and as careless of consequences. They had lived by preying on the peasants and stray travellers.
“The police are endeavouring to block the roads, so that, in desperation, he and his associates may be driven into the village and captured,” concluded the man who had volunteered the explanation in his halting French.
Corsini thanked him, and strolled along down the straggling village street. What was he to do till the railway service was restored? The village inn was open, where, if he pleased, he could go and saturate himself with vodka or some other potent spirit; but the young man had the abstemiousness of the Latin races. He did not want to amuse himself in this fashion.
He would take a little stroll. Occupied with his own thoughts of the life and reception awaiting him in St. Petersburg, with those powerful introductions from the influential Salmoros, he did not think of the risk he was running in wandering away from the protected precincts of the quiet village, guarded as it was by those stout mounted soldiers. Ivan and his band were lurking about somewhere, ready to pounce on the unwary traveller.
After a few minutes’ slow walk, he came to a roadside ikon. Mechanically he stopped and crossed himself. He was a man of deeply religious feeling, and he fancied he had been blessed with a good omen on his entrance into this strange country. A few prayers to the Blessed Virgin and he would be sheltered from all harm.
Hardly had his lips ceased moving in reverent supplication, when he was aware of a strange presence. A tall, bearded man emerged from the semi-gloom and held out his hands with an imploring gesture.