Page:The Russian Review Volume 1.djvu/247

Rh smoothly. While they were eating the birthday cake, he told of at least ten illegal deals that were consummated to his knowledge.

"Why didn't you report it, if you knew all about it?" asked an officer, who was among those present.

"The whole city knew about them, not I alone," laughed Avdeyev. "I have no time to go to court about such matters. If those fellows want to do illegal things, let them go ahead."

After the cake he rested for a while, then had his dinner, and took another short rest. After that he went to church, stayed throughout the service, and came back to the birthday party. He remained there until midnight, playing cards. It was clear that there was nothing wrong as far as he was concerned.

But when he returned home, long after midnight, he found the servant, who opened the door for him, pale and shivering, unable to say a word. His wife, Elizaveta Troflmovna, a fat old woman, with dishevelled grey hair, was sitting on a couch in the parlor, trembling with fright, and gazing about as if she were intoxicated. Her eldest son, Vassili, a student of the gymnasium, stood near her, trying to make her drink a little water. He was also pale and highly excited.

"What's happened?" asked Avdeyev sternly, and cast an angry look at the stove, for his family was often nearly suffocated by charcoal fumes.

"The police were here just now," said Vassili. "They searched the place."

Avdeyev looked around. The closets, the cupboard, the tables, all bore the signs of the recent search. For a moment Avdeyev stood perfectly still, as if petrified, unable to understand anything, then everything within him began to shake; he grew as heavy as lead, while his left foot suddenly became limp. Unable to stand his trembling, he fell down on the couch, face downward. He still felt everything within him shaking violently, and his left leg was beating against the edge of the couch.

He lay there for two or three minutes, trying to recall his past. But his thoughts refused to disclose any action in his past life which deserved the attention of the police.

"It's all nonsense," he said finally, rising to his feet. "Somebody must have lied about me. I'll have to complain about it to-morrow."

On the following morning, after spending a sleepless night, Avdeyev went to his store, as usual. His customers brought