Chapter 4:
On Saturday, August 5th, after breakfast, I was in my office looking through the proofs of my book when the bell by the hallway rung. I heard the click of an opening door, unintelligible voices, and then Conseil appeared at the office door with a stony expression.
"Mr Krasnovsky is here to see Monsieur."
I confess, I was glad.
"Show him in."
Krasnovsky was still in the same light grey suit – apparently his only one. It seemed to me that in the past nine days his face had become even thinner. He walked silently into my office, gazed attentively around the room, then slid to the window and, from behind the curtain, looked at the boulevard.
"Good morning, Monsieur Krasnovsky," I said softly.
He backed away from the window and finally looked at me.
"Good morning, Professor Aronnax. Do you know that your house is being watched?"
"By who?"
"At least two professional spies."
"Are you sure they are watching me, not you?"
"I am sure. I wouldn't bring a tail."
He came up to my desk and, without invitation, sat down on the chair across from me.
"So?" I said.
"Monsieur Aronnax, do you know anything about self-propelled underwater mines, also called torpedoes?"
I decided not to be surprised.
"Yes, Monsieur Krasnovsky. Torpedoes were invented by English engineer Robert Whitehead, patented by him in 1866, and in 1868 were adopted by the Austro-Hungarian military fleet."
He raised his eyebrows.
"For a bookworm, studying marine life, you are well aware."
I did not tell him about the source of my knowledge. I first heard about torpedoes in the United States, but most of my information about them was provided to me by Francois d'Orbigny. I spent many winter evenings with him discussing various technical innovations – my friend, an excellent engineer, told me about them with knowledge and enthusiasm.
"Besides the Whitehead company, the Russians are also engaged in the development and improvement of torpedoes," my guest said gloomily. "Have you heard anything about Ivan Fedorovich Aleksandrovskiy?"
I shook my head.
"He is the court photographer of the Russian Tsar and in his spare time is also an inventor. They say he designed the torpedo before even Whitehead, in 1865. And if Whitehead torpedoes have a speed of seven knots, and a range of no more than seven hundred yards, then Aleksandrovskiy's torpedoes are several times faster, and their range reaches one and a half thousand yards."
"Very interesting. And what does that imply?"
Krasnovsky slowly rose to his feet.
"It implies that the very first Russian cruiser, that meets the Nautilus at sea, will sink it."
We silently looked at each other.
"You exaggerate," I finally said. "Do not forget that the range of the modern artillery with conical cores exceeds five miles, the speed of these shells is incomparable with the speed of the torpedoes, but so far, the Nautilus has not only not sunk, but has not even been damaged."
"Not for long," Krasnovsky said grimly. "I have information that this fall the Russians will test new prototypes, the speed of which can reach forty-four knots, and the weight of the warhead will be two hundred and twenty pounds. Two hundred and twenty pounds of explosives, Monsieur Aronnax! I don't want Stephen and his comrades drowned like kittens in a bucket! We have to warn him, and if we can, stop the tests."
"How, dare I ask?"
It seemed to me that Krasnovsky was embarrassed for a moment.
"You could give this information to Captain Nemo," he said. "I will provide all the material. I will give you the place and time of the tests. Maybe even get the blueprints."
So, we finally get to the bottom of it, I thought.
"Monsieur Krasnovsky, if I tell you that I have no connection with Captain Nemo, you will certainly not believe me. So, let's be honest. I don't believe you either. First, you tell me about the secret fantastic miracle weapon of the Russians, and then you promise, like a rabbit from a hat, to pull out their drawings and tell me the time and place of the tests. How, may I ask? Are you a medium? Did you enter the mind of the engineer Aleksandrovskiy? Or, more likely, you just work for the Tsarist government?"
Krasnovsky clenched his jaw so hard that his lips turned white, and his eyes blazed with a fierce anger.
"Me, work for the Tsarist government? I'd rather hang myself with my own guts!" he said.
"Then who do you work for, Monsieur Krasnovsky?" I asked as calmly as I could.
To be honest, I felt very uncomfortable. I felt like an Indian, floating in a fragile canoe along the rapids. The "Polish thug", as Conseil called him, was completely transformed – his face had turned pale, in his eyes flashed lightning, his entire appearance breathed burning hatred. I had to gather all of my composure not to look away.
"For myself, Monsieur Aronnax. And for my homeland," Krasnovsky finally answered.
"Then we will take a step back. Where did you get the information about the Russian torpedoes?"
He took several deeps breaths, clearly regaining his composure, then looked at me unkindly.
"Have you heard anything about the Russian underground organisation 'Narodnaya Volya'?"
"No," I replied.
"Then how do I explain to you how I know about the torpedoes?"
"Don't you think that we have reached an impasse, Monsieur Krasnovsky?"
"It seems."
He walked back and forth around the office.
"If I had known at least one other way to convey the information about Aleksandrovskiy's torpedoes to Stephen, I would not have approached you, Monsieur Aronnax," my guest said bitterly a moment later.
He suddenly seemed to me much younger, twenty years old, no more. His jacket was hanging on him like a hanger, and his pants were too loose. It occurred to me that he might not be eating. I felt both disturbed by and compassion for this strange man.
"Alright, Monsieur Aronnax," Krasnovsky suddenly turned to me. "I won't take up any more of your time. Goodbye."
He flung the office door open, and after a few seconds, I heard the click of the front door. Going to the window, I saw him leave the porch and quickly headed down the boulevard.
Returning to my desk, I looked at the proofs with my editor's edits – and for a couple of seconds I couldn't remember what I was working on.
