oon."

Mashurina took the cigarette out of her mouth.

"But why?" she asked. "They say everything is going on well there."

"Yes, that is so, but one man has turned out unreliable and must be
got rid of. Besides that, there are other things. They want you to come
too."

"Do they say so in the letter?"

"Yes."

Mashurina shook back her heavy hair, which was twisted into a small
plait at the back, and fell over her eyebrows in front.

"Well," she remarked; "if the thing is settled, then there is nothing
more to be said."

"Of course not. Only one can't do anything without money, and where are
we to get it from?"

Mashurina became thoughtful.

"Nejdanov must get the money," she said softly, as if to herself.

"That is precisely what I have come about," Ostrodumov observed.

"Have you got the letter?" Mashurina asked suddenly.

"Yes. Would you like to see it?"

"I should rather. But never mind, we can read it together presently."

"You need not doubt what I say. I am speaking the truth," Ostrodumov
grumbled.

"I do not doubt it in the least." They both ceased speaking and, as
before, clouds of smoke rose silently from their mouths and curled
feebly above their shaggy heads.

A sound of goloshes was heard from the passage.

"There he is," Mashurina whispered.

The door opened slightly and a head was thrust in, but it was not the
head of Nejdanov.

It was a round head with rough black hair, a broad wrinkled forehead,
bright brown eyes under thick eyebrows, a snub nose and a humorously-set
mouth. The head looked round, nodded, smiled, showing a set of tiny
white teeth, and came into the room with its feeble body, short arms,
and bandy legs, which were a little lame. As soon as Mashurina and
Ostrodumov caught sight of this head, an expression of contempt mixed
with condescension came over their faces, as if each was thinking
inwardly, "What a nuisance!" but neither moved nor uttered a single
word. The newly arrived guest was not in the least taken aback by this
reception, however; on the contrary it seemed to amuse him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a squeaky voice. "A duet? Why
not a trio? And where's the chief tenor?

"Do you mean Nejdanov, Mr. Paklin?" Ostrodumov asked solemnly.

"Yes, Mr. Ostrodumov."

"He will be back directly, Mr. Paklin."

"I am glad to hear that, Mr. Ostrodumov."

The little cripple turned to Mashurina. She frowned, and continued
leisurely puffing her cig