He produced a sheet of paper from his portfolio and placed it on the piano. The Colonel wrote the names down as Doctor Svetilovitch gave them. When the doctor stopped short the Colonel asked laconically: “All?” “Doctor Svetilovitch answered as briefly: “All.” “Show us into your study,” said the Colonel. They went into the study and rummaged among everything there. They turned over all the books and disarranged the writing-table. They looked through the letters. The Colonel demanded: “Open the bookcases, the bureau drawers.” Doctor Svetilovitch answered: “The keys, as you see, are in their places in the locks.” He put his hands into his pockets and stood by the window. “Will you be good enough to open them?” said the Colonel. “I can’t do this,” replied Doctor Svetilovitch. “I do not consider it obligatory to help you in your searches.” Pride filled his Cadet’s soul. He felt that he was behaving correctly and valiantly. What was the consequence? The uninvited guests opened everything themselves and rummaged where they pleased. A constable put aside all those books which looked suspicious. Several of these books had been published in Russia quite openly and sold no less openly. They took several books wholly innocent in their contents, simply because they thought they detected a rebellious note in their titles. The Colonel of the gendarmerie announced: “We will take the correspondence and the manuscripts with us.” Doctor Svetilovitch said in vexation: “I assure you there’s nothing criminal there. The manuscripts are very necessary to my work.” “We’ll have a look at them,” said the Colonel dryly. “Don’t be concerned about them, they will be kept in safety.” Then they rummaged the other rooms. They searched the beds to see if there were any concealed fire-arms. When he returned into the study the Colonel of the gendarmerie said to Doctor Svetilovitch: “Well, try and see if you can find the papers of the strike committee.” “I have no such papers,” replied Doctor Svetilovitch. “S-so! Now,” said the Colonel very significantly, “tell us frankly where you keep the weapons concealed.” “What weapons?” asked Doctor Svetilovitch in astonishment. The Colonel replied with an ironic smile: “Any sort that you may have about--revolvers, bombs, or machine-guns.” “I haven’t any kind of weapons,” said Doctor Svetilovitch with an amused laugh. “I haven’t even a gun for hunting. What kind of weapon can I possibly have?” “We’ll have a look!” said the Colonel in a meaningful voice. They turned the whole house upside down. Of course they found no weapons of any kind. While all this was going on Trirodov was reading in the dining-room his own verses and some which were not his. The constables listened in a dull way. They did not understand anything, but waited patiently to see if any rebellious words were mentioned, but their waiting remained unrewarded.