# Diamonds To Sit On/Chapter 22

Contents
CHAPTER XXII
ABSALOM VLADIMIROVICH IZNURENKOV
A DIFFICULT time began for the two adventurers. Bender insisted that they should strike while the iron was hot. Hippolyte was no longer in such disgrace, but from time to time Bender would attack him: 'What the devil did I link up with you for? What's the good of you? You should go home and back to your office. The dead and the newly-born are waiting for you. Pack up and go!'
But in his heart Bender had grown quite fond of Hippolyte. Life would be dull without him, he thought, and there would be plenty of work for him in the new scheme. As soon as Ivanopulo had gone out of his room Bender used to coach his friend in the best way of finding the treasure.
'You must act boldly. Never ask for any one's advice, and the more cynical you are the better. People like it. Never undertake anything through a third party; there are no fools left. No one will pull those diamonds out of a stranger's pocket for you. Only don't commit any crimes, for we must respect the law.'
And yet the results of their investigations were none too brilliant. The law was an obstruction; so was the number of bourgeois prejudices which the Moscow citizens still retained. For example, they resented nocturnal visits through their windows. Yes, they would have to keep within the law.
Their third trophy, the chair which had been exchanged for a tea-strainer, now stood in Ivanopulo's room. The time had gone by when the chase for diamonds created such strong emotions in the two ​ABSALOM VLADIMIROVICH IZNURENKOV 149 friends that they would tear the chairs to pieces with their nails. ‘ Even if we don’t find anything in the chair,’ said Bender, ' we can consider that we have earned ten thousand roubles, for each chair we rip up adds to our chances. What does it matter if there is nothing in the good lady’s chair ? We don’t need to break it because of that. Let it furnish Ivanopulo’s room. It will make it more comfortable for us.’ The same day they went out of the house together, but they separated and went in different directions. Hippolyte had been told to visit the stranger in Sadovaya-Spaskaya Street. He had been given twentyfive roubles for expenses and had been warned not to go into public-houses and not to return without the chair. Bender decided to deal with Ella’s husband. Hippolyte took bus Number 6 to the other end of the town. He got out at the Red Gates, found the right house, and began to walk up and down the street, trying to make up his mind to go in. It had been a dirty old Moscow hotel which had since been converted into a hostel, and judging from its dilapidated condition it was occupied by incurable bankrupts. Without having formulated any particular plan, he at last went up to the first corridor, in which he found a number of different doors. Hippolyte timidly approached room Number 41. There was a dirty visiting card fixed to the door by a drawing-pin. He read the name: ‘ Absalom Vladimirovich Iznurenkov.’ Hippolyte was so excited that he forgot to knock. He opened the door, walked in, and found himself in the middle of a room. ‘ Excuse me,’ he said, ‘ but may I see Comrade Iznurenkov ? ’ There was no reply. The room was empty. It was impossible to teU from the appearance of the room what kind of man the occupant was, but it was obvious that he was a bachelor and had no servant. A paper ​150
DIAMONDS TO SIT ON
littered with sausage-skins was on the window-siU. The divan by the wall was covered with newspapers. A few dusty books stood on a small shelf, some photo­ graphs of cats were hanging on the walls, and in the middle of the room stood the walnut chair. Each piece of furniture in the room, including the chair, had a large red seal fastened to it, but Hippolyte did not pay any attention to this. He immediately forgot aU about the criminal code, he forgot Bender’s instructions, and moved rapidly towards the chair. At that moment the newspapers on the divan began to move. Hippolyte was terrified. The papers slid down on to the floor and a kitten quietly came out from under them. It looked indifferently at Hippolyte and began to wash its face with its paw. ‘ WeU, I’m bothered ! ’ said Hippolyte as he dragged the chair towards the door, but the door opened before he could reach it and the owner of the room stood on the threshold. He had on an overcoat and a pair of mauve pants, and was carrying his trousers in one hand. It could quite safely be said that there was not another man hke Absalom Vladimirovich Iznurenkov in the whole of Russia. The Republic valued his services, for he was most useful to it, and yet he was practically unknown, although in his art he was as great a master as Chaliapin in singing, Gorky in litera­ ture, or Capablanca in chess. Chaliapin was singing, Gorky was writing a long novel, Capablanca was getting ready to meet Alekhine, and Absalom Iznuren­ kov was busy making jokes. He made jokes for humorous newspapers. Famous men usually make two good jokes in a lifetime, which increase their fame and in course of time become ancient history ; but Iznurenkov invented at least sixty first-class jokes in a month, and these were repeated with a smile by every one. But he still remained unknown, for his name never appeared under his own jokes. ​ABSALOM VLADIMIROVICH IZNURENKOV 151 ' It’s ridiculous,’ he would say. ‘ Of course I can’t sign my name. How do you want me to sign ? Under two lines ? ’ And he continued to fight against the enemies of society, bad workmen as well as bureaucrats; with his wit he could kill profiteers and hooligans, dishonest servants of the Republic and scores of others. His witticisms were repeated at the circus and reappeared in the evening papers. The marvel of it was that he always managed to say something funny when every­ body else felt there was nothing left to be furmy about. As soon as he reahzed there was a stranger in his room who was taking one of his chairs away Iznurenkov waved his trousers in the air and began to shout: ‘ What do you think you’re doing ? You can’t ! You’ve no right ! After all, there is such a thing as the law. It may be an unwritten law, but you ought to know about it. You know perfectly well the furniture can stay here for another two weeks. I’ll complain about this. Dash it all. I’d rather pay ! ’ Hippolyte stood still while Iznurenkov put his trousers on. Hippolyte felt that in two minutes he would be seized and dragged off to the militia, and he was therefore most surprised when the other man suddenly became quite calm. ‘ You know,’ he said quietly, ‘ I simply cannot agree to this^—■—’ If Hippolyte had been in his place he too would never have agreed to having his chair stolen in broad daylight, but he could not think of anything appro­ priate to say, and was therefore silent. ' It isn’t my fault—really it isn’t. I admit I did not pay for the piano I hired, but after all, I did not sell it, although I had every chance of doing so. I acted honestly and not like a thief. They’ve taken the piano and apart from that they are suing me and have seized my furniture. But they’ve no right to take anything from me.’ ​152
DIAMONDS TO SIT ON
Hippolyte began to understand what it was all about. ' Drop that chair ! ’ Iznurenkov suddenly shouted. ‘ You bureaucrat, you, do you hear ? ’ Hippolyte meekly dropped the chair and mumbled : ‘ Excuse me, there must be some misunderstanding. I am only doing what I have been told to do.’ At this Iznurenkov cheered up and began to prance up and down the room, waving his arms about and singing. Presently he turned and said : ' So you won’t take the furniture to-day ? That’s good ! ’ Hippolyte moved towards the door. ‘ Wait a minute ! ’ said Iznurenkov, and thrust half a rouble into his hand. ‘ No, no. Please don’t refuse All honest work should be paid for.’ ‘ Much obliged,’ said Hippolyte, delighted with his own clever acting, and glad to escape from such an awkward position. It was only when he got out into the street again that he remembered Bender, and he began to tremble with fright.
Meanwhile Ernest Pavlovich Shchukin was wan­ dering about his friend’s flat, which had been kindly lent to him for the summer. He was trying to make up his mind whether he should or should not have a bath. The three-roomed flat was high up on the top landing of a nine-story house, and there was no other furniture in it except a looking-glass, a writing-table, and the Vorobianinov chair. The sun was shining on to the looking-glass. The engineer lay flat on the table as if it were a bed, but he immediately jumped up again. 111 go and have a bath,’ he decided, so he undressed and went into the bathroom. He stepped into the ​ABSALOM VLADIMIROVICH IZNURENKOV 153
bath, and, after pouring some water over himself out of a pale blue enamel jug, he began to soap himself vigorously. He was soon covered all over with soap and looked hke a snowman. ‘ That’s better ! ’ he said to himself ; and it certainly was better, for he had got rid of his wife and there was complete freedom for the future. The engineer bent down in the bath and turned the taps on, intending to wash off the soap. The tap gurgled, but no water came out of it. He thrust a soapy finger into the tap, but that did not improve matters ; only a few drops of water trickled out, but no more. He frowned, got out of the bath and went to the kitchen tap, but he could not get any water out of that either. He walked up and down in dismay. The soap was making his eyes smart, his back was itching, and the foamy water was dripping off his arms and legs on to the floor. Ernest Pavlovich decided to call the house porter. ‘ He’ll bring me some water,’ said the engineer to himself. ‘ It’s positively absurd. I can’t imderstand it.’ He looked out of the window and saw some children who were playing in the yard below. ‘ Porter ! Porter ! ’ he shouted. There was no answer, and then he remembered that the porter had his room at the bottom of the front staircase. He went out on to the landing and, holding the front door with his hand, he hung over the banister. There was only this one flat on the landing, and he was not afraid of being seen in this soapy condition. ‘ Porter ! ’ he shouted, and the word ‘ Por . . . ter ! ’ boomed out and re-echoed down the well of the stairs. ‘ Porter! Porter! ’ he shouted again, and the staircase re-echoed again and again ‘ ter ! . . . ter ! ’ At this point the engineer stamped his foot, slipped, and on trying to regain his balance, he let go of the door. The door swung to and he heard the Yale lock click. ​154
DIAMONDS TO SIT ON
Not believing that the door was locked, he pulled at the handle, but the door would not yield. The engineer tugged at the door several times and listened with a beating heart. It was dark by now and the house was unusually quiet. ‘ What a situation to be in !’ he thought. He could hear voices downstairs, then a dog began to bark and a perambulator was taken downstairs. Ernest Pavlovich walked up and down the landing. ‘ It’s enough to make a man go mad ! ’ he exclaimed. Again he went up to the door and again he listened. This time he heard a curious new sound. At first it seemed as if there were somebody walking about in the flat. ‘ Perhaps some one has got in from the back stair­ case,’ he thought; but then he remembered that the door leading to the back staircase was locked. The monotonous sound persisted and the engineer held his breath, for he suddenly realized that the noise was coming from running water. It was evidently running out of all the taps in the flat. He was almost weeping, for he was in a terrible position. Here, in the centre of Moscow, on the top landing of a nine-story house, was a full-grown man, a man of good education, standing absolutely naked except for a layer of soap. There was nowhere for him to go, and he would have rather sat in prison than be seen in such a condition. The soap was beginning to dry and was making his face and back itch. Half an hour passed, during which the engineer tried several times to break the door open. He looked dirty and most forbidding. At last he decided to pluck up courage and go down to the house porter. , , There s no other way out of it,’ he said to himself. 111 have to hide in the porter’s room.’ Feeling terribly nervous and trembling all over, Ernest Pavlovich began to creep very slowly down​ABSALOM VLADIMIROVICH IZNURENKOV 155 stairs. His figure was lit up by the different-coloured lights in the landing window, so that he looked like a harlequin. He was about to pass down the next flight of stairs when suddenly the door of one of the flats below was flung open and a young woman carrying a suit-case came out of the flat. The engineer dashed up to his landing again ; he was almost deafened by the sound of his own thumping heart. Half an hour later he again tried to go downstairs, but this time he decided to run down without paying any attention to anything on the way and to go straight into the porter’s room. He set off at a great pace, jumping down four steps at a time, and only stopped to recover his breath on the sixth landing. But that was his ruin, for somebody was coming upstairs. He turned tail like a cat chased by a terrier and tore up to the ninth story again. Back on his landing, he sank down on the floor, tore his hair, and sobbed convulsively, so that great tears chased each other down his cheeks. ‘ Oh, God ! ’ he moaned. He made several other attempts to get downstairs, but it was no use ; he fell against the door and tried to ram it with his head, but he only bruised himself. The most rational thing, of course, would have been to shout until somebody came up, but by now the engineer had completely lost his head and, breathing heavily, he kept running up and down the landing.