THE DEATH OF MADAM PETUKHOV
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furniture arranged with precision round the room, the polished parquet floor, the old-fashioned brown piano, and his ancestors in their black oval frames on the Suddenly the invahd said m a dull, hollow voice . ‘ I hid my diamonds in the seat of one of the chairs. Hippolyte stared at the old woman. ‘ Diamonds ? ’ he said mechanically. ‘ What dia monds ? Didn’t they take them away from you when they came to search the house ? ’
- I hid my diamonds in a chair,’ the old woman
repeated obstinately. Hippolyte jumped up and, looking down at her face in the lamplight, he saw that she meant what she said ‘ Your diamonds ? ’ he shouted, and was surprised at the force of his own voice, ‘ in a chair ? Who on earth put that idea into your head ? Why didn t you give them to me ? ’ ‘ Why should I give them to you ? You’d already squandered all my daughter’s money,’ replied the old woman venomously. Hippolyte sat down and immediately jumped up again. His heart was thumping, the blood rushed to his head, his temples were throbbing. ‘ But you must have taken them out of the chair ? Where are they ? Have you got them here ? ’ The old woman shook her head.
- I didn’t have time. Don’t you remember how
quickly we had to get away ? I had to leave the diamonds in the chair. It was the one that stood between the terra-cotta lamp and the fireplace.’^ ‘ But it was a mad thing to do,’ he shouted. ‘ Oh ! you’re just like your daughter ! ’ And regardless of the fact that he was standing by the side of a dying woman, he pushed his chair back impatiently and started to walk up and down the room. The old woman watched him listlessly. ‘ But surely you’ve some idea where the chairs went
