Tchelkache fell back a step, looked at the officer and smiled drily.

The red, cunning and good-natured face of the custom-house officer was
making an effort to appear terrible; with the result that swollen and
purple, with wrinkling eyebrows and bulging eyes, it only succeeded in
being funny.

"You've been warned before: don't you dare to come upon the wharf, or
I'll break every rib in your body!" fiercely exclaimed the officer.

"How do you do, Semenitch! I haven't seen you for a long time,"
quietly replied Tchelkache, extending his hand.

"I could get along without ever seeing you! Go about your business!"

However, Semenitch shook the hand that was extended to him.

"You're just the one I want to see," pursued Tchelkache, without
loosening the hold of his hooked fingers on Semenitch's hand, and
shaking it familiarly. "Have you seen Michka?"

"What Michka? I don't know any Michka! Get along with you, friend, or
the inspector'll see you; he--"

"The red-haired fellow who used to work with me on board the
'Kostroma,'" continued Tchelkache, unmoved.

"Who stole with you would be nearer the truth! Your Michka has been
sent to the hospital: his leg was crushed under a bar of iron. Go on,
friend, take my advice or else I shall have to beat you."