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Updated: April 30, 2025
Nicholas, a lanky young fellow, with a long, freckled nose, narrow-chested, and wearing an old jacket of his master's, entered Psyekoff's room, and bowed low before the magistrate. His face was sleepy and tear- stained. He was tipsy and could hardly keep his feet. "Where is your master?" Chubikoff asked him. "Murdered! your worship!" As he said this, Nicholas blinked and began to weep.
"What pigs we are," said Chubikoff, taking hold of the bell, "to disturb a poor woman like this!" "It's all right! It's all right! Don't get frightened! We can say that we have broken a spring." Chubikoff and Dukovski were met at the threshold by a tall buxom woman of three and twenty, with pitch-black brows and juicy red lips.
Nicholas, a lanky young fellow, with a long, freckled nose, narrow-chested, and wearing an old jacket of his master's, entered Psyekoff's room, and bowed low before the magistrate. His face was sleepy and tear-stained. He was tipsy and could hardly keep his feet. "Where is your master?" Chubikoff asked him. "Murdered! your worship!" As he said this, Nicholas blinked and began to weep.
In the evening Chubikoff and his deputy, lit on their road by the pale moon, wended their way homeward. They sat in their carriage and thought over the results of the day. Both were tired and kept silent. Chubikoff was always unwilling to talk while traveling, and the talkative Dukovski remained silent, to fall in with the elder man's humor.
But let me get out of it," muttered Chubikoff, rising and going to the window. "Yes, a spring," began Dukovski, going close to Olga Petrovna and wrinkling his long nose. "We did not drive over here to take supper with you or to see Kuzma Petrovitch. We came here to ask you, respected madam, where Marcus Ivanovitch is, whom you murdered!" "What?
Dukovski flared up, banged the door, and disappeared. "Clever rascal!" muttered Chubikoff, glancing after him. "Awfully clever! But too much of a hothead. I must buy him a cigar case at the fair as a present." The next day, early in the morning, a young man with a big head and a pursed-up mouth, who came from Klausoff's place, was introduced to the magistrate's office.
The scoundrels murdered him, and dragged the corpse out through the window " Chubikoff went up to the window, pulled the curtain to one side, and carefully pushed the window. The window opened. "It opens, you see! It wasn't fastened. Hm! There are tracks under the window. Look! There is the track of a knee! Somebody got in there. We must examine the window thoroughly."
Dukovski looked at him attentively, noted his confusion, and started. He noticed that the director had dark blue trousers, which he had not observed before. The trousers reminded him of the dark blue threads found on the burdock. Chubikoff in his turn glanced suspiciously at Psyekoff. "Go!" he said to Nicholas. "And now permit me to put a question to you, Mr. Psyekoff.
"Such goings-on there are in the world!" he said, meeting the examining magistrate with a sad smile. "Austria is at it again! And Gladstone also to some extent " Chubikoff threw his cap under the table, and shook himself. "Devils' skeletons! Don't plague me! A thousand times I have told you not to bother me with your politics! This is no question of politics!
We broke a spring, you know," began Chubikoff, entering the sitting room and sinking into an armchair. "Take her unawares at once!" whispered Dukovski; "take her unawares!" "A spring hum yes so we came in." "Take her unawares, I tell you! She will guess what the matter is if you drag things out like that." "Well, do it yourself as you want.
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