Petunikoff sighed deeply, crossed himself again, and spoke in a distressed tone.

“God almighty! It is just as I feared. Every time I looked in I left with cold fear in my heart.… Aye, aye, aye God protect us all, I would say, as I got home. Times without number I wanted to refuse to rent the house to that gentleman over there, the commander-in-chief of that crew of toughs, but I was afraid. You know…they are such unruly people…better give in to them, I thought, or else…”

He made a vague gesture with his hand, passed it over his face, tugged at his beard, and sighed again.

“Dangerous men they are and this fellow here is a sort of leader…the robbers’ chief, in fact.”

“We will sound him all right!” promised the Inspector looking at the Captain with a revengeful eye. “He is well known to me too.”

“Yes, old man, we are old friends…” said Kuvalda in a tone of familiarity. “How many times have I overpaid you and your kind to keep quiet?”

“Gentlemen!” shouted the Inspector, “did you hear this? I’ll make him pay for this. Ah, my friend, you’ll remember it! Aha. I shall make short work of you, my friend remember!”

“Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched,” said Aristid Fomich, calmly.

The Doctor,a young man with eyeglasses, looked at him curiously, the Coroner with an attention that bodied him no good, Petunikoff with triumph, while the Inspector shouted and almost went for him with his fists.

The dark figure of Martyanoff appeared at the door of the doss-house. He entered quietly, and stood behind Petunikoff, so that his chin was on a level with the merchant’s head. Behind him stood the Deacon. opening wide his small, swollen, red eyes.

“Let us be doing something gentlemen,” suggested the Doctor. Martyanoff made an awful grimace, and suddenly sneezed on Petunikoff’s head. The latter gave a yell, crouched, and then jumped hurriedly aside, almost knocking down the Inspector, into whose open arms he fell.

“You see,” said the frightened merchant, pointing to Martyanoff, “you see what kind of men they are?”

Kuvalda burst out laughing. The Doctor and the Coroner smiled too, and at the door of the doss-house the group of figures was increasing…sleepy figures, with swollen faces, red inflamed eyes, and disheveled hair, staring rudely at the Doctor, the Coroner, and the Inspector.

“Keep out!” warned the policeman on guard at the door, pulling at their tatters and trying to push them aside. But he was one against many, and, without taking any notice, they all entered and stood there, reeking of vodka, silent and sinister.

Kuvalda glanced at them, then at the authorities, who were taken aback by the interruption of these ragamuffins, and said, smiling wryly, “Gentlemen, perhaps you would like to make the acquaintance of my lodgers and friends? Would you? Anyhow, whether you wish it or not, you will have to learn to know them sooner or later in the course of your duties.”

The Doctor smiled with embarrassment. The Coroner pressed his lips together, and the Inspector saw that it was time to go, and shouted:

“Sidoroff! Whistle! Tell them to bring a cart here.”

“I will go now,” said Petunikoff, coming forward from a corner. “You had better leave these lodgings today, my good gentlemen, I want to pull down this shack. See that it is done or else I’ll apply to the police!”