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I was standing in the kitchen, you know, looking at the sturgeon. . . ." And so on. Within half an hour or so all the guests knew the incident of the sturgeon and Vankin. "Let him tell away now!" thought Ahineev, rubbing his hands. "Let him! He'll begin telling his story and they'll say to him at once, 'Enough of your improbable nonsense, you fool, we know all about it!"
"Ah-ah! the sound of a passionate kiss. . . . Who is it you're kissing out there, little Marfa?" came a voice from the next room, and in the doorway there appeared the cropped head of the assistant usher, Vankin. "Who is it? A-a-h! . . . Delighted to meet you! Sergei Kapitonich! You're a fine grandfather, I must say! Tête-
O-o-o! . . . you savage!" And she slapped him in the face. He got up from the table, not feeling the earth under his feet, and without his hat or coat, made his way to Vankin. He found him at home. "You scoundrel!" he addressed him. "Why have you covered me with mud before all the town? Why did you set this slander going about me?" "What slander? What are you talking about?"
"Who was it gossiped of my kissing Marfa? Wasn't it you? Tell me that. Wasn't it you, you brigand?" Vankin blinked and twitched in every fibre of his battered countenance, raised his eyes to the icon and articulated, "God blast me! Strike me blind and lay me out, if I said a single word about you! May I be left without house and home, may I be stricken with worse than cholera!"
James Allerdyke, and certainly murdered Lydenberg, Lisette Beaurepaire, and Ebers. Van Koon is an American crook, whose real name is Vankin; Merrifield, as you know, is Mr. Delkin's secretary; the other man is one Otto Schmall, a German chemist, and a most remarkably clever person, who has a shop and a chemical manufactory in Whitechapel.
He'll disgrace me to all the town, the brute." Ahineev went timidly into the drawing-room and looked stealthily round for Vankin. Vankin was standing by the piano, and, bending down with a jaunty air, was whispering something to the inspector's sister-in-law, who was laughing. "Talking about me!" thought Ahineev. "About me, blast him! And she believes it . . . believes it! She laughs! Mercy on us!
I looked at the sturgeon and I smacked my lips with relish . . . at the piquancy of it. And at the very moment that fool Vankin came in and said: . . . 'Ha, ha, ha! . . . So you're kissing here! Kissing Marfa, the cook! What a thing to imagine, silly fool! The woman is a perfect fright, like all the beasts put together, and he talks about kissing! Queer fish!"
He went into the kitchen, saw me beside Marfa, and began inventing all sorts of silly stories. 'Why are you kissing? he says. He must have had a drop too much. 'And I'd rather kiss a turkeycock than Marfa, I said, 'And I've a wife of my own, you fool, said I. He did amuse me!" "Who amused you?" asked the priest who taught Scripture in the school, going up to Ahineev. "Vankin.
"Who's a queer fish?" asked Tarantulov, coming up. "Why he, over there Vankin! I went into the kitchen . . ." And he told the story of Vankin. ". . . He amused me, queer fish! I'd rather kiss a dog than Marfa, if you ask me," added Ahineev. He looked round and saw behind him Mzda. "We were talking of Vankin," he said. "Queer fish, he is!
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