“Well, what? Won’t you give it?”

“Go to the Devil!…I am going to spend this money in putting up a monument to him.”

“What does he want that for?”

“I will buy a stone and an anchor. I shall place the stone on the grave, and attach the anchor to it with a chain. |It will be heavy.”

“Why? What’s the joke?”

“Well…It is no business of yours.”

“Look out! I shall tell…” again threatened Tyapa.

Aristid Fomich looked at him sullenly and said nothing.

“Listen.… They are coming!” Tyapa got up and went out of the doss-house.

Then the Doctor, the Police Inspector,and the Coroner appeared at the door. All three came up in turn, looked at the dead teacher, and then went out, throwing suspicious glances at Kuvalda. He sat there, without taking any notice of them, until the Police Inspector asked him:

“What did he die from?”

“Ask him.… I think from lack of habit.”

“What?” asked the Coroner.

“I say that he died because he wasn’t used to the disease which struck him.”

“H’m, yes. Had he been ill long?”

“Bring him out here, I cannot see him properly in there,” said the Doctor in a bored voice. “There may be signs…”

“Now then, tell someone to carry him out!” the Police Inspector ordered Kuvalda.

“Go and tell them yourself! He is not in my way here…” the Captain replied indifferently.

“Well,I never!” shouted the Inspector, pulling a ferocious face.

“Phew!” snarled Kuvalda, without moving from his place, in a state of quiet anger.

“The Devil take it!” shouted the Inspector, so maddened 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 door-way.

He looked round, with a sharp glance, shivered, took off his cap and crossed himself piously. Then a triumphant, wicked smile crossed his face, and looking straight at the Captain, he inquired:

“What has happened? Has there been a murder here?”

“Yes, something of that sort,” replied the Coroner.