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 sort of way and not in another. Pilgrimaging from door to door and climbing up many staircases gives a man a certain varnish.

The porter asked somewhat suspiciously:

"Who is it you want to see?"

And with simple carelessness and a gentle drawl Moshkin replied:

"I don't really know myself. I have come about an advertisement. I received a letter, but the writer is not indicated. Only the address is given. Who lives there?"

"Miss Engelgardova," answered the porter.

"Engelgargt?" queried Moshkin.

The porter repeated:

"Engelgardova."

Moshkin laughed.

"Russification?"

"Helena Petrovna," answered the porter.

"An old hag?" asked Moshkin doubtfully. The porter grinned.

"No, sir, a young lady. By the front way, please; through the gate on the right."

"I've looked," said Moshkin. "Only the first numbers are there."

"No," said the porter. "Fifty-seven is there, at the bottom."