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Updated: April 30, 2025
"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!
"Let me begin by apologizing for disturbing, so to speak, your devotions," began the gallant Chubikoff, bowing and scraping. "We have come to you with a request. Of course, you have heard already. There is a suspicion that your dear brother, in some way or other, has been murdered. The will of God, you know. No one can escape death, neither czar nor plowman.
"He has betrayed himself! And didn't I get round him cleverly! Regularly caught him napping " "And he doesn't deny the woman in the black dress!" exulted Dukovski. "But all the same, that safety match is tormenting me frightfully. I can't stand it any longer. Good-by! I am off!" Dukovski put on his cap and drove off. Chubikoff began to examine Aquilina.
My dear old man, won't you intrust this business to me? Let me personally bring it through! Friend, I began it and I will finish it!" Chubikoff shook his head and frowned. "We know how to manage difficult matters ourselves," he said; "and your business is not to push yourself in where you don't belong. Write from dictation when you are dictated to; that is your job!"
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.
He was accompanied to the scene of the murder by his inveterate companion, fellow worker, and secretary, Dukovski, a tall young fellow of twenty-six. "Is it possible, gentlemen?" cried Chubikoff, entering Psyekoff's room, and quickly shaking hands with everyone. "Is it possible? Marcus Ivanovitch? Murdered? No! It is impossible! Im-poss-i-ble!" "Go in there!" sighed the inspector.
And who's that other mug down there? Great snakes! It is the examining magistrate! What fate has brought him here?" Klausoff rushed down and threw his arms round Chubikoff in a cordial embrace. Olga Petrovna slipped through the door. "How did you come here? Let's have a drink, devil take it! Tra-ta-ti-to-tum let us drink! But who brought you here? How did you find out that I was here?
"That shows he wasn't strangled, if there was blood," said Chubikoff, looking sarcastically at Dukovski. "They strangled him in the bedroom; and here, fearing he might come round again, they struck him a blow with some sharp-pointed instrument. The stain under the bush proves that he lay there a considerable time, while they were looking about for some way of carrying him out of the garden.
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