“‘I lifted that chair several times and put it so that the pocket-book was completely in view, but the general simply didn’t notice it, and so it went on for twenty-four hours. He seems to be extraordinarily unobservant now, and there’s no making him out. He talks, tells stories, laughs, chuckles, and then flies into a violent temper with me. I don’t know why. At last, as we were going out of the room, I left the door open on purpose; he hesitated, would have said something, most likely he was uneasy about the pocket-book with such a sum of money in it, but suddenly flew into an awful rage and said nothing. Before we had gone two steps in the street, he left me and walked away in the other direction. We only met in the evening in the tavern.’ “‘But in the end you did take the pocket-book from under the chair?’ “‘No, it vanished from under the chair that same night.’ “‘Then where is it now?’ “‘Oh, here,’ cried Lebedyev, laughing suddenly, drawing himself up to his full height and looking amiably at Myshkin. ‘It suddenly turned up here, in the lappet of my coat. Here; won’t you look, feel?’ “The left lappet of the coat had indeed been formed into something like a bag in front, in the most conspicuous place, and it was clear at once to the touch that there was a leather pocket-book there that had fallen down from a torn pocket. “‘I took it out and looked. The money’s all there. I dropped it in again, and so I’ve been walking about since yesterday morning. I carry it in my coat and it knocks against my legs.’ “‘And you take no notice of it?’ “‘And I take no notice of it. He-he! And would you believe it, honoured prince, though the subject is not worthy of so much notice on your part, my pockets were always perfectly good, and then a hole like that, all of a sudden, in one night! I began to look at it more curiously; it’s as though someone had cut it with a penknife. Isn’t it almost incredible?’ “‘And ... the general?’ “‘He’s been angry all day; both yesterday and to-day: fearfully ill-humoured. At one time he’d be beaming and hilarious till he began to pay me compliments, then he’d be sentimental to tears, then suddenly angry: so much so that I’d be frightened really, for I’m not a military man, after all. We were sitting yesterday in the tavern, and the lappet of my coat stood out as though by chance, in the most prominent way: a perfect mountain. He looked at it on the sly and was angry. He hasn’t looked me straight in the face for a long time, unless he’s very drunk or sentimental, but yesterday he gave me a look that made a shudder run down my spine. To-morrow, though, I mean to find the pocket-book, but I shall have an evening’s fun with him before then.’ “‘Why are you tormenting him so?’ cried Myshkin.