"I promise that none of you shall take a risk," sneered Boolba. "Now speak, Yakoff!"
The man who had accompanied Sophia Kensky smiled importantly at the company, then turned to Sophia.
"Must I say this before Sophia Kensky?" he asked.
"Speak," said Boolba. "We are all brothers and sisters, and none will betray you."
Yakoff cleared his throat.
"When your Excellency wrote to me from Kieff, asking me to find a man, I was in despair," he began—an evidently rehearsed speech, "I tore my hair, I wept"
"Tell us what you have done," said the impatient Boolba. "For what does it matter, in the name of the saints and the holy martyrs" (everyone at the table, including Boolba, crossed himself) "whether your hair was torn or your head was hammered?"
"It was a difficult task, Excellency," said Yakoff in a more subdued tone, "but Providence helped me. There is a good comrade of ours who is engaged in punishing the bourgeoisie by relieving them of their goods"
"A thief, yes," said Boolba.
"Through him I learnt that a certain man had arrived in England and was in hiding. This man is a professional assassin."
