"Do you see," said the frightened merchant, pointing to
Martyanoff, "do you see what kind of men they are?"
Kuvalda burst out laughing. The Doctor and the Coroner smiled
too, and at the door of the dosshouse the group of figures was
increasing . . . sleepy figures, with swollen faces, red,
inflamed eyes, and dishevelled hair, staring rudely at the
Doctor, the Coroner, and the Inspector.
"Where are you going?" said the policeman on guard at the door,
catching hold of their tatters and pushing them aside. But he
was one against many, and, without taking any notice, they all
entered and stood there, reeking of vodki, silent and
evil-looking.
Kuvalda glanced at them, then at the authorities, who were angry
at the intrusion of these ragamuffins, and said, smilingly,
"Gentlemen, perhaps you would like to make the acquaintance of my
lodgers and friends? Would you? But, whether you wish it or
not, you will have to make their acquaintance sooner or later in
the course of your duties."
The Doctor smiled in an embarrassed way. The Coroner pressed his
lips together, and the Inspector saw that it was time to go.
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