The Italian slipped his hands from the accordion and laid it aside.
"Nobody but one who is mad would do it, but he is mad. There is no doubt
about that!"

Suvaroff began to feel irritated. "What are you talking about? Have you
lost your senses? If he is waiting for you, why do you not go out and
send him away? Go out and pay him what you owe him."

The Italian rose and began to shudder. "I owe him nothing. He is waiting
for me--_to kill me_!"

"Nonsense!" cried Suvaroff. "What is his reason?"

"He is waiting to kill me because I laughed at him."

"That is ridiculous!" said Suvaroff.

"Nevertheless, it is true," replied the Italian. "He kills every one who
laughs at him. Three days ago I laughed at him. But I ran away. He
followed me. He does not know where I lodge, but he has wit enough to
understand that if he waits long enough he will find me out. In Heaven's
name, my friend, can you not help me? See, I am a simple soul. I cannot
think quickly. I have prayed to the Virgin, but it is no use. Tell me,
what can I do to escape?"

"Why do you not see a policeman?"

The Italian let his hands fall hopelessly. "A policeman? What good would
that do? Even _you_ do not believe me!"

A chill seized Suvaroff. He began to shake, and in the next instant a
fever burned his cheeks. His head as full of little darting pains. He
turned away from the Italian, impatiently. "You must be a pretty sort of
man to let a little hunchback frighten you! Good night."

And with that Suvaroff went out, slamming the door.

When Suvaroff got to his room he felt dizzy. He threw himself on the bed
and lay for some time in a stupor. When he came to his senses again the
first sound to greet him was the wail of his neighbor's accordion.

"What a fool I am!" he muttered. "Here I go bursting into this Italian's
room for the purpose of asking him to quit his abominable noise, and I
listen like a dumb sheep to _his_ bleatings, and so forget my errand!"

The noise continued, grew more insistent, became unbearable. Suvaroff
covered his ears with a comforter. His head was throbbing so violently
that even the ticking of a clock upon the table by his bed cut his
senses like a two-edged sword. He rose, stumbling about with a feeling
of indescribable weakness. What was the matter? Why did he feel so ill?
His eyes burned, his legs seemed weighted, his throat was so dry that
there was no comfort when he swallowed. All this he could have stood if
it ha