A week later and within twenty-four hours
of each other they had breathed their last. The Count Boris Michaelovitch
was now the heir, and would do well to come home as soon as possible to
look after his possessions, as the local authorities were likely to make a
good thing out of it in his absence.
The Cossack swore a terrific oath, and stamped furiously on the floor as
he rose to his feet. It was evident to him that Akulina had out of spite
concocted the letter, and had managed to have it posted by some friend in
Russia. He was not satisfied with one expletive, nor with many. The words
he used need not be translated for the reader of the English language. It
is enough to say that they were the strongest in the Cossack vocabulary,
that they were well selected and applied with force and precision.
Johann Schmidt was exceedingly wroth with the tobacconist's wife, for it
was clear that she had caused the Count's untimely death by her abominable
practical joke. He went and leaned out of the window, churning and
gnashing the fantastic expressions of his rage through his teeth.
Suddenly there was a noise in the room, a distinct, loud noise, as of
shuffling with hands and feet. The Cossack's nerves were proof against
ghostly terrors, but as he turned round he felt that his hair was standing
erect upon his head.
The Count was on his feet and was looking at him.
CHAPTER XII.
"I thought you were dead!" gasped the Cossack in dismay.
There was no answer.
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