"What for? I simply—" But the porter had already turned into his little room, and Mitrofan, gnashing his teeth, followed him meekly.
"He believed me—he believed me at once! The scoundrel!" he thought.
The little room was narrow; there was but one chair, and the porter occupied it calmly.
"Are you single?" asked Mitrofan good naturedly.
But the porter did not think it necessary to reply. Surveying the teacher from head to foot with an audacious glance, he maintained silence, and after a time, asked:
"One of you was here the day before yesterday. A light-haired fellow, with moustaches. Do you know him?"
"Of course I do. He is light-haired——"
"I suppose there are lots of you people roaming about nowadays," the porter remarked indifferently.
"Look here," Mitrofan said, growing indignant, "I haven't come here—I simply want to——"
But the porter paid no attention to his words, and continued:
"Do you get a large salary? The light-haired fellow said he was getting fifty. Too little."
"Two hundred," lied Mitrofan Krilov, and noticed an expression of delight on the porter's face.
"Really? Two hundred! I can understand that. Won't you have a cigarette?"
Mitrofan took a cigarette from the porter's fin-
