All went well with me, but once I had a terribly narrow escape of falling a second time into the toils. It so chanced that I passed through the province of Tobolsk in company with a tchinovnik (government employé), whose acquaintance I had made on the road, a big-paunched, rosy-cheeked fellow, with merry eyes and a mellow voice; and, being on his way home after a long absence, in high good humor and full of fun. Once at the end of a long day's journey, we arrived about midnight at a town in the neighborhood of Tobolsk, and, being tired and sleepy, resolved to pass the rest of the night there. So we went into the travellers' room, ordered tea, and handed our itinerary cards to the starosta of the station, in order that he might make the necessary entries in the travellers' book. Before going to the sleeping room we requested that the horses might be ready at seven o'clock next morning. I slept the sleep of the just, rose betimes, and called for the starosta. “Are the horses ready?” I asked. “And be good enough to bring hither our itinerary-cards.” “The station-master will himself bring your itinerary-cards, and as for the horses they are already yoked up.” Half-an-hour later the station-master (otherwise director), came into our room, holding in his hand the itinerary-cards. “I am sorry to trouble you,” he said politely; “but I should like to know which of you young gentlemen is Ivan Alexandrovitch Selivanoff?” “At your service sir,” I answered, stepping forward. The station-master looked at me with a ludicrous expression of bewilderment and surprise. “A thousand pardons,” he said at length, with a low bow. “But really—I don't quite understand. The fact is, I knew Mr. Selivanoff, and here I see the same surname and Christian name; the name of the father is also the same, the tchin (rank) likewise! Yet I was told he had died—more than a year ago—but when I saw his name on the card I thought the news must be false, and I came to assure myself. I see that I am mistaken. A thousand pardons, sir, a thousand pardons,” and again he saluted me still more profoundly than before. I felt as if the ground were opening under my feet, and was thinking how on earth I should get out of the scrape, when my companion came—without knowing it—to the rescue. “What a capital joke!” he shouted, clapping me on the back, and laughing so that he could hardly speak. “One might suppose that the worthy director takes you for an escaped prisoner with a dead man's passport. Ha, ha, ha, what a capital joke to be sure!” And holding his big belly with both hands, he balanced himself first on one foot and then the other, laughing the while, until he could hardly stand.