him the news of the arrest of the Vice-President and the Secretary of the Bank, which had taken place the previous night at the request of the District-Attorney. This information did not excite Avdeyev at all. He was certain that somebody had lied about him, and that, after his complaint, the police official would be reprimanded severely for searching his house.
About ten o'clock he went to the City Hall to see the Secretary of the City Council, who was the only educated man in the whole municipal administration.
"What does this mean, Vladimir Stepanych?" said he to the Secretary. "Others stole the money, and I have to be responsible? How's that? Why, look here." Now he was whispering. "They searched my house last night. What the deuce is the matter with them, anyway? Why should they go after me?"
"Because you shouldn't be an ass," answered the Secretary calmly. "You should have looked at what you were sighing."
"Look at what? And what difference would that have made? I can look at the thing for a thousand years, and still I won't understand it. I'm no bookkeeper. They brought me the papers, and I signed them."
"There is still another thing. You and your whole committee are badly involved in another thing, too. Didn't you borrow nineteen thousand roubles from the Bank without giving any security?"
"My goodness!" Avdeyev was genuinely astonished. "As though I were the only one to owe money to the bank! The whole city owes money. And then, talking conscientiously, was it I that really took the money? It was as good as given to me by Peter Semenych. 'Take it, and take it,' says he. 'If you don't take,' says he, 'that means that you don't trust the bank. Take it,' says he, 'and build a flour mill for your father.' So I took it."
"Only children, or asses, talk like that. But, at any rate there is no use of your getting excited. Of course, your case will have to come up for trial. But don't worry; most likely you will be acquitted."
The Secretary's indifference and his calmness reassured Avdeyev. Returning to the store, he found several of his friends there. He had a drink with them, followed it with a little caviar, and some of his philosophizing. He had almost forgotten the incident of the preceding night, and the only thing that troubled him was the constantly recurring numbness of his left leg, an his increasing indigestion.
