ustomed
..."

"H'm, yes. Had he been ill long?"

"Bring him over here, I cannot see him properly," said the Doctor in a
melancholy tone. "Probably there are signs of ..."

"Now, then, ask someone here to carry him out!" the Police Inspector
ordered Kuvalda.

"Go and ask them yourself! He is not in my way here ..." the Captain
replied, indifferently.

"Well! ..." shouted the Inspector, making a ferocious face.

"Phew!" answered Kuvalda, without moving from his place and gnashing
his teeth restlessly.

"The Devil take it!" shouted the Inspector, so madly that the blood
rushed to his face. "I'll make you pay for this! I'll--"

"Good morning, gentlemen!" said the merchant Petunikoff, with a sweet
smile, making his appearance in the doorway.

He looked round, trembled, took off his cap and crossed himself. Then a
pompous, wicked smile crossed his face, and, looking at the Captain, he
inquired respectfully:

"What has happened? Has there been a murder here?"

"Yes, something of that sort," replied the Coroner.

Petunikoff sighed deeply, crossed himself again, and spoke in an angry
tone.

"By God! It is just as I feared. It always ends in your having to
come here... Ay, ay, ay! God save everyone. Times without number
have I refused to lease this house to this man, and he has always won
me over, and I was afraid. You know... They are such awful people ...
better give it them, I thought, or else ..."

He covered his face with his hands, tugged at his beard, and sighed
again.

"They are very dangerous men, and this man here is their leader ... the
attaman of the robbers."

"But we will make him smart!" promised the Inspector, looking at the
Captain with revengeful eyes.

"Yes, brother, we are old friends of yours ..." said Kuvalda in a
familiar tone. "How many times have I paid you to be quiet?"

"Gentlemen!" shouted the Inspector, "did you hear him? I want you to
bear witness to this. Aha, I shall make short work of you, my friend,
remember!"

"Don't count your chickens before they are hatched ... my friend," said
Aristid Fomich.

The Doctor, a young man with eye-glasses, looked at him curiously, the
Coroner with an attention that boded him no good, Petunikoff with
triumph, while the Inspector could hardly restrain himself from
throwing himself upon him.

The dark figure of Martyanoff appeared at the door of the dosshouse.
He entered quietly, and stood behind Petunikoff, so that his