"And not a single person can be relied upon," continues the
proprietress grumblingly. "Not a servant but what she's a stiff, a
faker. And all the girls ever think about is their lovers. Just
so's they may have their own pleasure. But about their duties they
don't even think."

There is an awkward silence. Some one knocks on the door. A thin,
feminine voice speaks on the other side of the door:

"Housekeeper, dear, take the money and be kind enough to give me
the stamps. Pete's gone."

The inspector gets up and adjusts his sabre.

"Well, it's time I was going to work. Best regards, Anna Markovna.
Best wishes, Isaiah Savvich."

"Perhaps you'll have one more little glass for a stirrup cup?" the
nearly blind Isaiah Savvich thrusts himself over the table.

"Tha-ank you. I can't. Full to the gills. Honoured, I'm sure! ..."

"Thanks for your company. Drop in some time."

"Always glad to be your guest, sir. Au revoir!"

But in the doorway he stops for a minute and says significantly:

"But still, my advice to you is--you'd better pass this girl on to
some place or other in good time. Of course, it's your affair, but