Read Online Special Assignments by Boris Akunin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Boris Akunin
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pocket where he kept all his financial records.
'No need,' said the Court Counsellor, waving the paper aside. 'The "jacks" would hardly bother getting their hands dirty for the sake of five roubles.'
Anisii wilted. That accursed pricking had begun spreading so fast across his electrically tormented body that he actually squirmed on his chair and, in order to undo the unfavourable impression created by his foolishness, he began telling Erast Petrovich about the monumental lottery.
A respectable institution. Only one word for it: Europe. They're renting the first floor in the building of the Tutelary Council for the Care of Orphans. The queue goes all the way down the stairs, people of every rank and class, even quite a few from the nobility. I stood there for forty minutes, Erast Petrovich, before I reached the counter. Russian people are certainly responsive to an appeal for charity.'
Fandorin twitched one sable eyebrow vaguely. 'So you think it's all above board? Not a whiff of any swindle?'
'Oh no, not at all! There's a constable at the door, with a shoulder belt and sword. He salutes everyone respectfully. When you go in, there's a counter, and behind it there's a very modest, pretty young lady with a pince-nez, all in black, with a white headscarf and a cross hanging round her neck. A nun or a lay sister, or perhaps just a volunteer - you can't tell with those foreigners. She takes the money and lets you spin the drum. She speaks fluent Russian, only with an accent. You spin it yourself and take the ticket out yourself - it's all fair and square. The drum's made of glass, with little folded pieces of cardboard in it - blue for twenty-five roubles and pink for fifty roubles - that's for those who want to contribute more. No one took any pink ones while I was there, though. You open up the ticket right there, in front of everyone. If you haven't won, it says: "May the Lord save you." Here, look.' Anisii took out a handsome piece of blue cardboard with Gothic lettering on it. And anyone who's won anything goes in behind the counter. There's a desk in there, with the chairman of the lottery sitting at it, a very impressive, elderly clerical gentleman. He confirms the prizes and does the paperwork. And the young lady thanks the people who don't win most cordially and pins a beautiful paper rose on their chests as a sign of their charity'
Anisii took out the paper rose that he had carefully tucked away in his pocket. He was thinking of taking it to Sonya; she would be delighted.
Erast Petrovich inspected the rose and even sniffed it. 'It smells of "Parma Violets",' he observed. An expensive perfume. You say the young lady is modest?'
'She's a really nice girl,' Tulipov confirmed. And she has such a shy smile.'
'Well, well. And do people sometimes win?'
'I should say so!' Anisii exclaimed! When I was still standing in the queue on the stairs one fortunate gentleman came out who looked like a professor. All flushed, he was, waving a piece of paper with seals on it - he'd won an estate in Bohemia. Five hundred acres! And this morning, they say some official's wife drew a tenement house actually in Paris. Six storeys! Just imagine that kind of luck! They say she had quite a turn; they had to give her smelling salts. And after that professor who won the estate, lots of people started taking two or three tickets at once. Who minds paying twenty-five roubles a time for prizes like that? Ah,
I didn't have any money of my own with me, or I'd have tried my luck too.'
Anisii squinted up dreamily at the ceiling, imagining himself unfolding a piece of cardboard and finding ... What would it be? Well, for instance, a chateau on the shores of Lake Geneva (he had seen the famous lake in a picture - oh, it was so beautiful).
'Six storeys?' the Court Counsellor asked, off the subject. 'In Paris? And an estate in B-Bohemia? I see. You know what, Tulipov: you come with me, and I'll play this lottery of yours. Can we get there before it
'No need,' said the Court Counsellor, waving the paper aside. 'The "jacks" would hardly bother getting their hands dirty for the sake of five roubles.'
Anisii wilted. That accursed pricking had begun spreading so fast across his electrically tormented body that he actually squirmed on his chair and, in order to undo the unfavourable impression created by his foolishness, he began telling Erast Petrovich about the monumental lottery.
A respectable institution. Only one word for it: Europe. They're renting the first floor in the building of the Tutelary Council for the Care of Orphans. The queue goes all the way down the stairs, people of every rank and class, even quite a few from the nobility. I stood there for forty minutes, Erast Petrovich, before I reached the counter. Russian people are certainly responsive to an appeal for charity.'
Fandorin twitched one sable eyebrow vaguely. 'So you think it's all above board? Not a whiff of any swindle?'
'Oh no, not at all! There's a constable at the door, with a shoulder belt and sword. He salutes everyone respectfully. When you go in, there's a counter, and behind it there's a very modest, pretty young lady with a pince-nez, all in black, with a white headscarf and a cross hanging round her neck. A nun or a lay sister, or perhaps just a volunteer - you can't tell with those foreigners. She takes the money and lets you spin the drum. She speaks fluent Russian, only with an accent. You spin it yourself and take the ticket out yourself - it's all fair and square. The drum's made of glass, with little folded pieces of cardboard in it - blue for twenty-five roubles and pink for fifty roubles - that's for those who want to contribute more. No one took any pink ones while I was there, though. You open up the ticket right there, in front of everyone. If you haven't won, it says: "May the Lord save you." Here, look.' Anisii took out a handsome piece of blue cardboard with Gothic lettering on it. And anyone who's won anything goes in behind the counter. There's a desk in there, with the chairman of the lottery sitting at it, a very impressive, elderly clerical gentleman. He confirms the prizes and does the paperwork. And the young lady thanks the people who don't win most cordially and pins a beautiful paper rose on their chests as a sign of their charity'
Anisii took out the paper rose that he had carefully tucked away in his pocket. He was thinking of taking it to Sonya; she would be delighted.
Erast Petrovich inspected the rose and even sniffed it. 'It smells of "Parma Violets",' he observed. An expensive perfume. You say the young lady is modest?'
'She's a really nice girl,' Tulipov confirmed. And she has such a shy smile.'
'Well, well. And do people sometimes win?'
'I should say so!' Anisii exclaimed! When I was still standing in the queue on the stairs one fortunate gentleman came out who looked like a professor. All flushed, he was, waving a piece of paper with seals on it - he'd won an estate in Bohemia. Five hundred acres! And this morning, they say some official's wife drew a tenement house actually in Paris. Six storeys! Just imagine that kind of luck! They say she had quite a turn; they had to give her smelling salts. And after that professor who won the estate, lots of people started taking two or three tickets at once. Who minds paying twenty-five roubles a time for prizes like that? Ah,
I didn't have any money of my own with me, or I'd have tried my luck too.'
Anisii squinted up dreamily at the ceiling, imagining himself unfolding a piece of cardboard and finding ... What would it be? Well, for instance, a chateau on the shores of Lake Geneva (he had seen the famous lake in a picture - oh, it was so beautiful).
'Six storeys?' the Court Counsellor asked, off the subject. 'In Paris? And an estate in B-Bohemia? I see. You know what, Tulipov: you come with me, and I'll play this lottery of yours. Can we get there before it
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