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 WHILE the two friends were busy in Moscow visiting museums and auction-rooms, the doubly-bereaved widow Gritsatsuev, who was terribly upset, was discussing her loss with the neighbours. They all examined the note Bender had left her. Three days passed, but there was neither a sign of him nor of the tea-strainer, the bracelet, or chair. They had all mysteriously vanished. At last she took matters into her own hands and went to the offices of a Stargorod newspaper, where they immediately wrote out an announcement for her:

Those persons knowing the whereabouts of Comrade Bender, aged 25-30, brown hair, who left home dressed in a green suit, yellow boots, and pale blue waistcoat, to send information to Madam Gritsatsuev, 15 Plekhanov Street, Stargorod

'Is it your son?' they asked her sympathetically in the newspaper office.

'It is my husband,' said the martyr, burying her face in her

'Oh! your husband.'

'Yes, my legal husband. What of it?'

'Oh! nothing, nothing. I think you had better apply to the militia.'

The widow was alarmed, for she was afraid of the militia.