The nimble eights of the pack, like little boys, mocked at Peredonov--these were the phantasms of schoolboys. They lifted their legs with strange, stiff movements, like the legs of a compass, but their legs were shaggy and with hoofs. Instead of tails they had whipping rods, which they swung with a swish, and at each flourish they gave a squeak. The nedotikomka grunted from under the table, and laughed at the play of these eights. Peredonov thought with rage that the nedotikomka would not have dared to come to an official. "They surely wouldn't let it in," he thought enviously. "The lackeys would drive it out with their mops." At last Peredonov could no longer stand its evil, insolently shrill laughter. He brought an axe from the kitchen and he split the table under which the nedotikomka was hiding. The nedotikomka squeaked piteously and furiously. It dashed out from under the table and rolled away. Peredonov trembled. "It might bite," he thought, and screamed with terror and sat down, but the nedotikomka hid itself peacefully. Not for long.... Sometimes Peredonov took the cards and with a ferocious expression on his face cut the heads off the court cards. Especially those of the queens. In cutting the kings, he glanced around him so as not to be detected and not to be accused of a political crime. But even these executions did not help for long. Visitors came, cards were brought and evil spies again took possession of the cards. Peredonov already began to consider himself a secret criminal. He imagined that even from his student days he had been under the surveillance of the police. For some reason he thought that they were watching him. This terrified and yet flattered him. The wind stirred the wall-paper. It shook with a quiet, evil rustling. And soft half-shadows glided over their vividly coloured patterns. "There's a spy hiding behind the wall-paper," thought Peredonov sadly. "Evil people! No wonder they put the paper on the wall so unevenly and so poorly, for a skilful, patient, flat villain to creep in and hide behind. Such things have happened even before." Confused recollections stirred in his mind. Someone had hidden behind the wall-paper; someone had been stabbed either with a poignard or an awl. Peredonov bought an awl. And when he returned home the wall-paper stirred unevenly and restlessly--a spy felt his danger and was perhaps trying to creep in farther. A shadow jumped to the ceiling and there threatened and grimaced. Peredonov was infuriated. He struck the wall-paper impetuously with the awl. A shiver ran over the wall. Peredonov began to sing triumphantly and to dance, brandishing the awl. Varvara came in. "Why are you dancing by yourself, Ardalyon Borisitch?" she asked, smiling stupidly and insolently as always. "I've killed a beetle," explained Peredonov morosely.