"Do you think so?" asked Kislarsky in alarm.
"Well, what do you think?
Do you suppose you can get anything in wartime?
Flour would disappear from the market right away.
Silver coins will vanish completely. There'll be all sorts of paper currency, and stamps will have the same value as banknotes, and all that sort of thing."
"War, that's for sure."
"You may think differently, but I'm spending all my spare cash on buying up essential commodities," said Dyadyev.
"And what about your textile business? "
"Textiles can look out for themselves, but the flour and sugar are important."
"That's what I advise you.
I urge you, even."
Polesov laughed derisively.
"How can the Bolsheviks fight?
What with?
What will they fight with?
Old-fashioned rifles.
And the Air Force?
A prominent communist told me that they only have . . . well, how many planes do you think they have?"
"About two hundred."
"Two hundred?
Not two hundred, but thirty-two.
And France has eighty thousand fighters."
It was past midnight when they all went home. "Yes, indeed. They've got the Bolsheviks worried."
The governor took the mayor home.
They both walked with an exaggeratedly even pace.
"Governor!" Charushnikov was saying. "How can you be a governor when you aren't even a general!"
"I shall be a civilian governor. Why, are you jealous?
I'll jail you whenever I want.
You'll have your fill of jail from me."
"You can't jail me.
I've been elected and entrusted with authority."
"They prefer elected people in jail."
"Kindly don't try to be funny," shouted Charushnikov for all the streets to hear.
"What are you shouting for, you fool?" said the governor. "Do you want to spend the night in the police station?"
"I can't spend the night in the police station," retorted the mayor. "I'm a government employee."
A star twinkled.
The night was enchanting.
The argument between the governor and the mayor continued down Second Soviet Street.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FROM SEVILLE TO GRANADA
Wait a minute now, where is Father Theodore?
Where is the shorn priest from the Church of St. Frol and St. Laurence?
Was he not about to go to see citizen Bruns at 34 Vineyard Street?
Where is that treasure-seeker in angel's clothing and sworn enemy of Ippolit Vorobyaninov, at present cooling his heels in the dark corridor by the safe.
Gone is Father Theodore.
He has been spirited away.
They say he was seen at Popasnaya station on the Donets railway, hurrying along the platform with a teapot full of hot water.
Greedy is Father Theodore.
He wants to be rich.
He is chasing round Russia in search of the furniture belonging to General Popov's wife, which does not contain a darn thing, to tell the truth.