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And Pacomius Borisovitch, opening his portfolio, filled with all kinds of passports, certificates, and papers of identification, began to turn them over, but without taking any out of the portfolio. All with the same thought that some stranger might come in. "Ha! here's a new one! Where did it come from?" he cried. "I got it out of a new arrival," muttered the red-headed man. "Well done!
"Thanks for the compliment!" interrupted Pacomius Borisovitch. The fair-haired man nodded to him satirically. "I need a lot more," he repeated firmly and impressively; "and if you don't give me at least twenty-five rubles I'll denounce you this very minute to the police and you see I have my witnesses ready." "Sergei Antonitch! Mr. Kovroff! Have mercy on us! Where can we get so much from?
"I'll teach you to talk about the Penal Code!" and rising deliberately, he dealt Pacomius Borisovitch a well-directed blow on the head, which sent him rolling into the corner. Pacomius picked himself up, blinking with indignation. "What is the meaning of such conduct?" he asked loftily. "It means," said the red-headed man, "that if you mention the Penal Code again I'll knock your head off!"
Pacomius Borisovitch again interrupted. "We are only getting twenty rubles for the job. The whole gang will pledge their words of honor to that. Do you think we would lie to you and stain the honor of the gang for twenty measly rubles?" "That is business. That was well said. I love a good speech, and am always ready to respect it," remarked Sergei Antonitch approvingly.
Sergey Borisovitch, in his long coat that reached below his knees, with his red face and unkempt hair, walked up and down the room with his hands in his pockets, pacing, not from corner to corner, but backwards and forwards at random, like a wild beast in its cage. He would stand still by the table, sip his glass of tea with relish, and pace about again, lost in thought.
From everything, from her glances, from her smile, and even from her tone, from the way she held her head and shoulders as she walked beside him, he saw that, as before, she did not love him, that he was a stranger to her. What more did she want to say? Doctor Sergey Borisovitch was at home. "You are very welcome.
"Knocked on the head!" briefly replied the red-headed man. "Knocked on the head?" repeated Pacomius Borisovitch. "Serious business. Comes under sections 332 and 727 of the Penal Code." "Driveling again!" cried the red-headed man.
I tell you as in the presence of the Creator! There are ten of us, as you see. And there are three of you. And I, Yuzitch, and Gretcka deserve double shares!" added Pacomius Borisovitch persuasively. "Gretcka deserves nothing at all for catching me by the throat," decided Sergei Antonitch Kovroff. "Mr. Kovroff!" began Pacomius again. "You and I are gentlemen " "What! What did you say?"
Bodlevski immediately assented. Yuzitch at once rose and went over to a red-nosed individual in undress uniform, who was poring over the Police News. "Friend Borisovitch," said Yuzitch, holding out his hand to him, "something doing!" "Fair or foul?" asked the man with the red nose. "Hang your cheek!" laughed Yuzitch; "if I say it, of course it's fair."
"I shall have to have a talk with him," said Doulebov. "Ask him into your study and I will talk to him. In the meantime, show Ardalyon Borisovitch the laboratory." Doulebov and Voronok spoke for a long time in Poterin's study. "I don't question your convictions," said the Headmaster, "but I must make it clear to you that it is impossible to introduce politics into schools.
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