Dmitri and the Milk-Drinkers

‘Well, no.’

‘I mean, you’ve searched the place thoroughly, haven’t you? For that other girl?’

‘Novikov has searched the place,’ said Dmitri, learning fast. ‘Thoroughly, he says.’

‘Well, then!’

‘So she must be either in the prison or with the convoy. Unless …’

‘Yes?’

‘She’s disappeared. Like the other one,’ said Dmitri with emphasis.

‘Oh, my God!’ said Peter Ivanovich, clapping his hands to his head.

‘If this woman has indeed disappeared,’ said Peter Ivanovich coldly, ‘I hold you responsible.’

‘Me, Your Honour?’

The Chief of Police reeled back.

‘You’re responsible for security arrangements, aren’t you?’

‘Only in the Court House, Your Excellency! Only in the Court House!’

‘But that’s where she’s disappeared from.’

‘Ah, but did she, Your Honour?’ said Novikov, recovering quickly. ‘Did she? Perhaps she escaped as the carts were going back to the prison – ’

‘She’s not on the carts list,’ said Dmitri.

‘Or from the convoy – ’

‘She’s not on their list, either.’

‘She must be! She must be!’

‘What are these lists?’ asked Peter Ivanovich.

‘At the end of the sessions the Clerk of the Court prepares a list of all those sentenced,’ said Dmitri. ‘From it, an assistant clerk compiles two separate lists, one for the officer in charge of the prison carts, one for the officer in charge of the convoy. The prisoners are assembled in the yard and assigned to one set of carts or the other on the basis of the consolidated list. As they get to the carts their names are checked against those on the separate lists. Marfa Nikolaevna’s name appears on the consolidated list, but not, so far as I can tell, and I’ve asked both the Prison Administration and the Convoy Administration, on either of the separate lists.’

‘They must have made a mistake,’ said Novikov.

‘Exactly what I said!’ said Peter Ivanovich.

‘I got them to check,’ said Dmitri.

‘Ah, yes, Your Honour, but it will be different if I ask them. Saving Your Honour’s presence, but they won’t have bothered much for someone new like yourself. Let me have a word with them, Your Excellency,’ said Novikov, turning to Peter Ivanovich, ‘and I’ll soon sort this out.’

‘Do so; and don’t take too long about it, either. One can’t have people disappearing from the Court House. Really, one begins to feel quite nervous!’

Novikov returned, beaming, before the lawyers had finished their lunch.

‘There you are, sir, what did I tell you? Sorted it out in no time! A simple mistake, sir, as you supposed.’

He put a piece of paper on the table before Peter Ivanovich and smoothed it flat.

‘There you are, Your Excellency!’ He pointed with a stubby forefinger. ‘That’s what you want!’

Peter Ivanovich adjusted his pince-nez.

‘Is it?’

‘I know, sir. You’re having difficulty. And not just you alone, sir. Everyone else. That’s how the misunderstanding arose. No one’s fault, sir, except for that fat clerk who’ll be feeling the toe of my boot up his fundament if he doesn’t take more pains next time.’

Peter Ivanovich looked again.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said doubtfully.

‘Not convinced, Your Excellency?’ Novikov chuckled. ‘Well, that doesn’t surprise me. In fact, it’s what I told myself. An old fox like His Excellency will want something more than that, I said. And quite right, too! So I did a bit of nosing around and, as luck would have it, who should I come upon but young Stenka. Come in, lad!’ he called out into the corridor.

A fresh-faced young soldier appeared hesitantly in the doorway.

‘Come in, lad. His Excellency won’t bite you. Now, you come in and tell His Excellency what you told me.’

The young soldier cleared his throat nervously.

‘I was on the carts,’ he began.

‘That very afternoon,’ interjected Novikov.

‘Yes, right, that afternoon. The women’s cart, as it fell out. Well, I don’t mind that, I mean, you never know what you might see, and you’re not going to have any trouble, are you? I mean, not any real trouble. They say things, of course, you’ve got to put up with that, but I know how to handle that. I just say: “You bloody shut up or you’ll taste the butt of my gun!”’

‘The cart, lad, the cart,’ put in Novikov hastily.

‘Yes, right, the cart. Well, there weren’t many of them that afternoon, not women, I mean. Only a few for us. So I’ve got a bit of time, and I see this girl. A real Russian beauty, she is. Oh ho, I think, I’ll bet you’ve got a nice pair of apples, and I give her a pinch as she goes by. Well, she jumps about half a verst. “What’s your name my beauty?” I say. She doesn’t answer, so I go to the sergeant and I say: “See that one there? What’s her name?” “What do you want to know for?” he says. “A taste comes before a feast,” I say. “Well,” he says, “there’s not going to be much of a feast for you, my lad, because she’s going straight on to the main convoy and you’re going to be stopping here.” “Never mind that,” I say. “What’s her name?” He looks at his list. “Shumin,” he says. “Marfa Nikolaevna Shumin.”’

‘Shumin?’ said Peter Ivanovich. ‘You’re sure about that?’

‘Pretty sure, sir. But I’m dead sure about the “Marfa”. My own sister’s named Marfa, it’s a bit of a family name. “That’s a good omen,” I said to myself. “She’s almost one of the family, like.”’

Novikov looked at Peter Ivanovich.

‘Satisfied, sir?’

‘There seems no doubt about it,’ Peter Ivanovich conceded.

‘That’s what I thought, sir, once I’d talked to Stenka. The name by itself, I said, won’t be enough to convince Peter Ivanovich. But a witness, an honest witness – well, that’s a different matter!’