The red-headed man let go his collar, and glancing contemptuously at him, with an expression of hate and wrath, silently stepped aside. "How much must we pay?" he asked sullenly. "Oho! that's better. You should have begun by asking that!" answered the newcomer, settling himself comfortably on his chair and toying with his pistols. "How much do you earn?" "We get little enough! Just five rubles," answered the red-headed man. "That's too little. I need a great deal more. But you are lying, brother! You would not stir for less than twenty rubles!" "Thanks for the compliment!" interrupted Pacomius Borisovitch. The fair-haired man nodded to him satirically. "I need a lot more," he repeated firmly and impressively; "and if you don't give me at least twenty-five rubles I'll denounce you this very minute to the police--and you see I have my witnesses ready." "Sergei Antonitch! Mr. Kovroff! Have mercy on us! Where can we get so much from? I tell you as in the presence of the Creator! There are ten of us, as you see. And there are three of you. And I, Yuzitch, and Gretcka deserve double shares!" added Pacomius Borisovitch persuasively. "Gretcka deserves nothing at all for catching me by the throat," decided Sergei Antonitch Kovroff. "Mr. Kovroff!" began Pacomius again. "You and I are gentlemen----" "What! What did you say?" Kovroff contemptuously interrupted him. "You put yourself on my level? Ha! ha! ha! No, brother; I am still in the Czar's service and wear my honor with my uniform! I, brother, have never stained myself with theft or crime, Heaven be praised. But what are you?" "Hm! And the Golden Band? Who is its captain?" muttered Gretcka angrily, half to himself. "Who is its captain? I am--I, Lieutenant Sergei Antonitch Kovroff, of the Chernovarski Dragoons! Do you hear? I am captain of the Golden Band," he said proudly and haughtily, scrutinizing the company with his confident gaze. "And you haven't yet got as far as the Golden Band, because you are _cowards_! Chuproff," he cried to one of his men, "go and take the mask off Finch, or the poor boy will suffocate, and untie his arms--and give him a good crack on the head to teach him to keep watch better." The "mask" that Kovroff employed on such occasions was nothing but a piece of oilcloth cut the size of a person's face, and smeared on one side with a thick paste. Kovroff's "boys" employed this "instrument" with wonderful dexterity; one of them generally stole up behind the unconscious victim and skillfully slapped the mask in his face; the victim at once became dumb and blind, and panted from lack of breath; at the same time, if necessary, his hands were tied behind him and he was leisurely robbed, or held, as the case might be.