The Outrage - A True Story

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"I pass on to inspiration. Gentlemen, doubtless you have had to read
of thefts that were supernatural in design and execution. In the
headlines of the newspapers they are called 'An Amazing Robbery,' or
'An Ingenious Swindle,' or again 'A Clever Ruse of the Gangsters.' In
such cases our bourgeois paterfamilias waves his hands and exclaims:
'What a terrible thing! If only their abilities were turned to
good--their inventiveness, their amazing knowledge of human
psychology, their self-possession, their fearlessness, their
incomparable histrionic powers! What extraordinary benefits they would
bring to the country!' But it is well known that the bourgeois
paterfamilias was specially devised by Heaven to utter commonplaces
and trivialities. I myself sometimes--we thieves are sentimental
people, I confess--I myself sometimes admire a beautiful sunset in
Aleksandra Park or by the sea-shore. And I am always certain
beforehand that some one near me will say with infallible _aplomb_:
'Look at it. If it were put into picture no one would ever believe
it!' I turn round and naturally I see a self-satisfied, full-fed
paterfamilias, who delights in repeating some one else's silly
statement as though it were his own. As for our dear country, the
bourgeois paterfamilias looks upon it as though it were a roast
turkey. If you've managed to cut the best part of the bird for
yourself, eat it quietly in a comfortable corner and praise God. But
he's not really the important person. I was led away by my detestation
of vulgarity and I apologise for the digression. The real point is
that genius and inspiration, even when they are not devoted to the
service of the Orthodox Church, remain rare and beautiful things.
Progress is a law--and theft too has its creation.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"Finally, our profession is by no means as easy and pleasant as it
seems to the first glance. It demands long experience, constant
practice, slow and painful apprenticeship. It comprises in itself
hundreds of supple, skilful processes that the cleverest juggler
cannot compass. That I may not give you only empty words, gentlemen, I
will perform a few experiments before you now. I ask you to have every
confidence in the demonstrators. We are all at present in the
enjoyment of legal freedom, and though we are usually watched, and
every one of us is known by face, and our photographs adorn the albums
of all detective departments, for the time being we are not under the
necessity of hiding ourselves from anybody. If any one of you should
recognise any of us in the future under different circumstances, we
ask you earnestly always to act in accordance with your professional
duties and your obligations as citizens. In grateful return for your
kind attention we have decided to declare your property inviolable,
and to invest it with a thieves' taboo. However, I proceed to
business."

The orator turned round and gave an order: "Sesoi the Great, will you
come this way!"

An enormous fellow with a stoop, whose hands reached to his knees,
without a forehead or a neck, like a big, fair Hercules, came forward.
He grinned stupidly and rubbed his left eyebrow in his confusion.

"Can't do nothin' here," he said hoarsely.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

The gentleman in the sandy suit spoke for him, turning to the
committee.

"Gentlemen, before you stands a respected member of our association.
His specialty is breaking open safes, iron strong boxes, and other
receptacles for monetary tokens. In his night work he sometimes avails
himself of the electric current of the lighting installation for
fusing metals. Unfortunately he has nothing on which he can
demonstrate the best items of his repertoire. He will open the most
elaborate lock irreproachably... By the way, this door here, it's
locked, is it not?"

Every one turned to look at the door, on which a printed notice hung:
"Stage Door. Strictly Private."

"Yes, the door's locked, evidently," the chairman agreed.

"Admirable. Sesoi the Great, will you be so kind?"

"'Tain't nothin' at all," said the giant leisurely.

He went close to the door, shook it cautiously with his hand, took out
of his pocket a small bright instrument, bent down to the keyhole,
made some almost imperceptible movements with the tool, suddenly
straightened and flung the door wide in silence. The chairman had his
watch in his hands. The whole affair took only ten seconds.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"Thank you, Sesoi the Great," said the gentleman in the sandy suit
politely. "You may go back to your seat."

But the chairman interrupted in some alarm: "Excuse me. This is all
very interesting and instructive, but ... is it included in your
esteemed colleague's profession to be able to lock the door again?"

"Ah, _mille pardons_." The gentleman bowed hurriedly. "It slipped my
mind. Sesoi the Great, would you oblige?"

The door was locked with the same adroitness and the same silence. The
esteemed colleague waddled back to his friends, grinning.

"Now I will have the honour to show you the skill of one of our
comrades who is in the line of picking pockets in theatres and
railway-stations," continued the orator. "He is still very young, but
you may to some extent judge from the delicacy of his present work of
the heights he will attain by diligence. Yasha!" A swarthy youth in a
blue silk blouse and long glacé boots, like a gipsy, came forward with
a swagger, fingering the tassels of his belt, and merrily screwing up
his big, impudent black eyes with yellow whites.

"Gentlemen," said the gentleman in the sandy suit persuasively, "I
must ask if one of you would be kind enough to submit himself to a
little experiment. I assure you this will be an exhibition only, just
a game."

[Dark Saint Alaick]

He looked round over the seated company.

The short plump Karaite, black as a beetle, came forward from his
table.

"At your service," he said amusedly.

"Yasha!" The orator signed with his head.

Yasha came close to the solicitor. On his left arm, which was bent,
hung a bright-coloured, figured scarf.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"Suppose yer in church or at the bar in one of the halls,--or watchin'
a circus," he began in a sugary, fluent voice. "I see straight
off--there's a toff... Excuse me, sir. Suppose you're the toff.
There's no offence--just means a rich gent, decent enough, but don't
know his way about. First--what's he likely to have about 'im? All
sorts. Mostly, a ticker and a chain. Whereabouts does he keep 'em?
Somewhere in his top vest pocket--here. Others have 'em in the bottom
pocket. Just here. Purse--most always in the trousers, except when a
greeny keeps it in his jacket. Cigar-case. Have a look first what it
is--gold, silver--with a monogram. Leather--what decent man'd soil his
hands? Cigar-case. Seven pockets: here, here, here, up there, there,
here and here again. That's right, ain't it? That's how you go to
work."

As he spoke the young man smiled. His eyes shone straight into the
barrister's. With a quick, dexterous movement of his right hand he
pointed to various portions of his clothes.

"Then again you might see a pin here in the tie. However we do not
appropriate. Such _gents_ nowadays--they hardly ever wear a real
stone. Then I comes up to him. I begin straight off to talk to him
like a gent: 'Sir, would you be so kind as to give me a light from
your cigarette'--or something of the sort. At any rate, I enter into
conversation. What's next? I look him straight in the peepers, just
like this. Only two of me fingers are at it--just this and this."
Yasha lifted two fingers of his right hand on a level with the
solicitor's face, the forefinger and the middle finger and moved them
about.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"D' you see? With these two fingers I run over the whole pianner.
Nothin' wonderful in it: one, two, three--ready. Any man who wasn't
stupid could learn easily. That's all it is. Most ordinary business. I
thank you."

The pickpocket swung on his heel as if to return to his seat.

"Yasha!" The gentleman in the sandy suit said with meaning weight.
"Yasha!" he repeated sternly.

Yasha stopped. His back was turned to the barrister, but be evidently
gave his representative an imploring look, because the latter frowned
and shook his head.

"Yasha!" he said for the third time, in a threatening tone.

"Huh!" The young thief grunted in vexation and turned to face the
solicitor. "Where's your little watch, sir?" he said in a piping
voice.

"Oh!" the Karaite brought himself up sharp.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"You see--now you say 'Oh!'" Yasha continued reproachfully. "All the
while you were admiring me right hand, I was operatin' yer watch with
my left. Just with these two little fingers, under the scarf. That's
why we carry a scarf. Since your chain's not worth anything--a present
from some _mamselle_ and the watch is a gold one, I've left you the
chain as a keepsake. Take it," he added with a sigh, holding out the
watch.

"But ... That is clever," the barrister said in confusion. "I didn't
notice it at all."

"That's our business," Yasha said with pride.

He swaggered back to his comrades. Meantime the orator took a drink
from his glass and continued.

"Now, gentlemen, our next collaborator will give you an exhibition of
some ordinary card tricks, which are worked at fairs, on steamboats
and railways. With three cards, for instance, an ace, a queen, and a
six, he can quite easily... But perhaps you are tired of these
demonstrations, gentlemen."...

"Not at all. It's extremely interesting," the chairman answered
affably. "I should like to ask one question--that is if it is not too
indiscreet--what is your own specialty?"

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"Mine... H'm... No, how could it be an indiscretion?... I work the big
diamond shops ... and my other business is banks," answered the orator
with a modest smile. "Don't think this occupation is easier than
others. Enough that I know four European languages, German, French,
English, and Italian, not to mention Polish, Ukrainian and Yiddish.
But shall I show you some more experiments, Mr. Chairman?"

The chairman looked at his watch.

"Unfortunately the time is too short," he said. "Wouldn't it be better
to pass on to the substance of your business? Besides, the experiments
we have just seen have amply convinced us of the talent of your
esteemed associates... Am I not right, Isaac Abramovich?"

"Yes, yes ... absolutely," the Karaite barrister readily confirmed.

"Admirable," the gentleman in the sandy suit kindly agreed. "My dear
Count"--he turned to a blond, curly-haired man, with a face like a
billiard-maker on a bank-holiday--"put your instruments away. They
will not be wanted. I have only a few words more to say, gentlemen.
Now that you have convinced yourselves that our art, although it does
not enjoy the patronage of high-placed individuals, is nevertheless an
art; and you have probably come to my opinion that this art is one
which demands many personal qualities besides constant labour, danger,
and unpleasant misunderstandings--you will also, I hope, believe that
it is possible to become attached to its practice and to love and
esteem it, however strange that may appear at first sight.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

Picture to yourselves that a famous poet of talent, whose
tales and poems adorn the pages of our best magazines,
is suddenly offered the chance of writing verses at a penny
a line, signed into the bargain, as an advertisement for
'Cigarettes Jasmine'--or that a slander was spread about one
of you distinguished barristers, accusing you of making a business
of concocting evidence for divorce cases, or of writing
petitions from the cabmen to the governor in public-houses! Certainly
your relatives, friends and acquaintances wouldn't believe it. But the
rumour has already done its poisonous work, and you have to live
through minutes of torture. Now picture to yourselves that such a
disgraceful and vexatious slander, started by God knows whom, begins
to threaten not only your good name and your quiet digestion, but your
freedom, your health, and even your life!

"This is the position of us thieves, now being slandered by the
newspapers. I must explain. There is in existence a class of
scum--_passez-moi le mot_--whom we call their 'Mothers' Darlings.'
With these we are unfortunately confused. They have neither shame nor
conscience, a dissipated riff-raff, mothers' useless darlings, idle,
clumsy drones, shop assistants who commit unskilful thefts. He thinks
nothing of living on his mistress, a prostitute, like the male
mackerel, who always swims after the female and lives on her
excrements. He is capable of robbing a child with violence in a dark
alley, in order to get a penny; he will kill a man in his sleep and
torture an old woman. These men are the pests of our profession. For
them the beauties and the traditions of the art have no existence.
They watch us real, talented thieves like a pack of jackals after a
lion. Suppose I've managed to bring off an important job--we won't
mention the fact that I have to leave two-thirds of what I get to the
receivers who sell the goods and discount the notes, or the customary
subsidies to our incorruptible police--I still have to share out
something to each one of these parasites, who have got wind of my job,
by accident, hearsay, or a casual glance.