“You can do nothing without witnesses.…Your son cannot give evidence on your side…”the Captain warned him.

“Look out all the same, you old wretch, one day justice will be meted out to you.” Petunikoff shook his fist at him. His son, calmly engrossed in his calculations, took no notice of the dark group of men taking such a wicked delight in adding to his father’s discomfiture. He did not even once look in their direction.

“The young spider has himself well in hand,” remarked Bag of Bones, watching young Petunikoff’s every movement and action.

Having taken all the measurements he desired, Ivan Andreyevitch knit his brows silently, got into the cart, and drove away. His son went with a firm step into Vaviloff’s pub, and disappeared behind the door.

“Ho, ho! That’s a determined young thief!…What will happen next, I wonder…?” asked Kuvalda.

“Next? Young Petunikoff will buy off Egor Vaviloff,” said Bag of Bones, with an air of conviction on his sharp face, and smacked his lips as if the idea gave him great pleasure.

“And you are glad of that, are you?” Kuvalda asked him, gravely.

“I am always pleased to see human calculations miscarry,” explained Bag of Bones, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands with delight.

The Captain spat angrily on the ground and was silent. They all stood in front of the tumbledown building and silently watched the doors of the pub. More than an hour passed thus. Then the doors opened and Petunikoff came out as calmly as he had entered. He stopped for a moment, coughed, turned up the collar of his coat, glanced at the men, who were following all his movements with their eyes, and then went up the street towards the town.

The Captain watched him for a moment, and, turning to Bag of Bones, said with a scowl:

“You were probably right after all, you son of a scorpion and an earwig! You have a nose for every evil thing. Yes, the face of that young swindler shows that he has got what he wanted.…I wonder how much Egorka has got out of them. He has evidently taken something.…He is the same sort of rogue.…I’m damned if I did not arrange the whole thing for him! It is hard to realize one’s own folly.…Yes, life is against us all, my miserable brothers…and even when you spit at your fellow-creature the spittle rebounds and hits your own face.”

Having comforted himself with this reflection, the worthy Captain looked round at his staff. They were all disappointed, because they all knew that some arrangement had taken place between Petunikoff and Vaviloff. To know that you have failed in harming someone is more humiliating than to know that you have failed to do any good, because to do harm is so much easier and simpler.

“Well, why are we loitering here? We have nothing more to wait for…except the reward that I shall get out of Egorka…” said the Captain, looking gloomily at the pub. “So our peaceful life under the roof of Judas has come to an end. Judas will now turn us out.…This I announce to the Department of Sans-culottes which is entrusted to me.”

Bad End smiled sadly.

“What are you laughing at, jailer?” Kuvalda asked.

“Where shall I go then?”