LOCKSMITH, PARROT, FORTUNE-TELLER 63
my workshop, and I was just walking along a corridor when suddenly two men came towards me. I looked at them. There was something familiar about one of them. He looked like Vorobianinov. “ Can you tell me what Government office used to be in this build ing ? ” he asked me. I told him there had been a girls’ high school at first and then the House Department. “ What do you want to know for ? ” I asked, but he thanked me and walked on without answering. And then I realized that it actually was Vorobianinov, but he had shaved off his moustache. Now where could he have come from ? The man with him was a finelooking fellow, obviously an ex-ofiicer. And then I thought to myself----- ’ At that moment the locksmith noticed something unpleasant, and without finishing what he was saying he seized his pail and hid behind a dustbin. The night porter from house Number 5 had come up to the well and was looking round the yard, but as he could not see Viktor Mikhaylovich his face fell. ‘ I suppose he’s out again,’ he said, looking at the fortune-teller.
- How should I know ? ’ she snapped.
The night porter turned on his heel and went out of the yard. As soon as he had gone Viktor Mikhaylovich came out from behind the dustbin, and the fortune teller invited him to come into her flat for a minute. She offered the locksmith a plate of stewed fruit, and, walking up and down, she asked him questions about Hippolyte. ‘ But I tell you it was Vorobianinov ! ’ shouted the locksmith. ‘ I know him perfectly well. It was Hippolyte Vorobianinov, only without his moustache ! ’ ‘ For heaven’s sake, don’t shout so ! Why do you think he’s come back ? ’ The locksmith smiled ironically. ‘ Why do I think he’s come back ? Well, he’s not come back to sign agreements with the Bolsheviks.’
