"Don't fail to tell him about us," said the old Menshova, while Maslova was arranging her headgear before a looking-glass half void of mercury. "It was not me who set the fire, but he, the villain, himself did it, and the laborer saw it. He would not kill a man. Tell him to call Dmitry. Dmitry will explain to him everything. They locked us up here for nothing, while the villain is living with another man's wife and sits around in dram-shops." "That's wrong!" affirmed Korableva. "I will tell him--yes, I will," answered Maslova. "Suppose we have a drink, for courage?" she added, winking one eye. Korableva poured out half a cup for her. Maslova drank it and wiped her mouth. Her spirits rose, and repeating the words "for courage," shaking her head and smiling, she followed the matron. CHAPTER XLV. Nekhludoff had been waiting for a long time in the vestibule. Arriving at the prison he rang the front-door bell and handed his pass to the warden on duty. "What do you want?" "I wish to see the prisoner Maslova." "Can't see her now; the inspector is busy." "In the office?" asked Nekhludoff. "No, here in the visitors' room," the warden answered, somewhat embarrassed, as it seemed to Nekhludoff. "Why, are visitors admitted to-day?" "No--special business," he answered. "Where can I see him, then?" "He will come out presently. Wait." At that moment a sergeant-major in bright crown-laced uniform, his face radiant, and his mustache impregnated with smoke, appeared from a side door. "Why did you admit him here? What is the office for?" he said sternly, turning to the warden. "I was told that the inspector was here," said Nekhludoff, surprised at the embarrassment noticeable on the officer's face. At that moment the inner door opened and Petroff, flushed and perspiring, came out. "He will remember it," he said, turning to the sergeant-major. The latter pointed with his eyes to Nekhludoff, and Petroff became silent, frowned and walked out through the rear door. "Who will remember? What? Why are they all so embarrassed? Why did the sergeant make that sign?" thought Nekhludoff. "You cannot wait here; please walk into the office," the sergeant-major turned to Nekhludoff, who was about to go out when the inspector came in through the inner door, more embarrassed even than his assistants. He was sighing incessantly. Seeing Nekhludoff, he turned to the warden: "Fedotoff, call Maslova." "Follow me, please," he said to Nekhludoff. They passed up a winding stairway leading into a small room with one window and containing a writing table and a few chairs. The inspector sat down. "Mine are disagreeable duties," he said, turning to Nekhludoff and lighting a thick cigarette. "You seem tired," said Nekhludoff.