ABSALOM VLADIMIROVICH IZNURENKOV 155 stairs. His figure was lit up by the different-coloured lights in the landing window, so that he looked like a harlequin. He was about to pass down the next flight of stairs when suddenly the door of one of the flats below was flung open and a young woman carrying a suit-case came out of the flat. The engineer dashed up to his landing again ; he was almost deafened by the sound of his own thumping heart. Half an hour later he again tried to go downstairs, but this time he decided to run down without paying any attention to anything on the way and to go straight into the porter’s room. He set off at a great pace, jumping down four steps at a time, and only stopped to recover his breath on the sixth landing. But that was his ruin, for somebody was coming upstairs. He turned tail like a cat chased by a terrier and tore up to the ninth story again. Back on his landing, he sank down on the floor, tore his hair, and sobbed convulsively, so that great tears chased each other down his cheeks. ‘ Oh, God ! ’ he moaned. He made several other attempts to get downstairs, but it was no use ; he fell against the door and tried to ram it with his head, but he only bruised himself. The most rational thing, of course, would have been to shout until somebody came up, but by now the engineer had completely lost his head and, breathing heavily, he kept running up and down the landing.
