airs. He gave a cry, and that was answered
by a movement so close to him that it was almost at his elbow.

"Who's there?" he cried. He saw a shadow pass between the moon and
himself. In a panic of terror he cried out, and at the same time struck
a match. Some one came towards him, and he saw that it was Markovitch.

He was so relieved to find that it was a friend that he did not stop to
wonder what Markovitch should be doing hiding in my room. It afterwards
struck him that Markovitch looked odd. "Like a kind of conspirator, in
old shabby Shuba with the collar turned up. He looked jolly ill and
dirty, as though he hadn't slept or washed. He didn't seem a bit
surprised at seeing me there, and I think he scarcely realised that it
_was_ me. He was thinking of something else so hard that he couldn't
take me in."

"Oh, Bohun!" he said in a confused way.

"Hullo, Nicolai Leontievitch," Bohun said, trying to be unconcerned.
"What are you doing here?"

"Came to see Ivan Andreievitch," he said. "Wasn't here; I was going to
write to him."

Bohun then lit a candle and discovered that the place was in a very
considerable mess. Some one had been sifting my desk, and papers and
letters were lying about the floor. The drawers of my table were open,
and one chair was over-turned. Markovitch stood back near the window,
looking at Bohun suspiciously. They must have been a curious couple for
such a position. There was an awkward pause, and then Bohun, trying to
speak easily, said:

"Well, it seems that Durward isn't coming. He's out dining somewhere I
expect."

"Probably," said Markovitch drily.

There was another pause, then Markovitch broke out with: "I suppose you
think I've been here trying to steal something."

"Oh no--oh no--no--" stammered Bohun.

"But I have," said Markovitch. "You can look round and see. There it is
on every side of you. I've been trying to find a letter."

"Oh yes," said Bohun nervously.

"Well, that seems to you terrible," went on Markovitch, growing ever
fiercer. "Of course it seems to you perfect Englishmen a dreadful thing.
But why heed it?... You all do things just as bad, only you are
hypocrites."

"Oh yes, certainly," said Bohun.

"And now," said Markovitch with a snarl. "I'm sure you will not think me
a proper person for you to lodge with any longer--and you will be right.
I am not a proper person. I have no sense of decency, thank God, and no
Russian has any sense of decency, and that