As he walked past the church he took his hat off and crossed himself three times elaborately and sweepingly, so that everyone should see how the future inspector walked past the church. He was not accustomed to do it before, but now he had to be on the look-out. It was possible that some spy was walking stealthily behind or was hiding around a corner or behind a tree and was watching him. The Commissioner of Police lived in a remote street of the town. In the gates, which were flung wide open, Peredonov met a police constable--a meeting which now always made Peredonov feel dejected. There were several muzhiks visible in the courtyard, but not the kind one meets everywhere--these were an unusually orderly and quiet sort. The courtyard was dirty. Carts stood about covered with matting. In the dark corridor Peredonov met another police constable, a small, meagre man of capable yet depressed appearance. He stood motionless and held under his arm a book in black leather binding. A ragged, barefoot girl ran out from a side door and helped Peredonov off with his coat; as she led him into the drawing-room, she said: "Please come in, Semyon Grigoryevitch will be here soon." The drawing-room ceiling was low and this oppressed Peredonov. The furniture was huddled against the wall. Rope-mats lay on the floor. To the right and to the left noises and whisperings could be heard behind the walls. Pale women and scrofulous boys looked out from the doors, all with avid glistening eyes. Among the whisperings certain questions and answers spoken in a louder tone could be heard: "I brought ..." "Where shall I take this?" "Where do you want this put?" "I've brought it from Ermoshkin, Sidor Petrovitch." The Commissioner soon appeared. He was buttoning up his uniform and smiling amiably. "Pardon me for keeping you waiting," he said, as he pressed Peredonov's hand in both his huge grasping hands. "I've had many business callers. Our work is such that it won't bear delay." Semyon Grigoryevitch Minchukov a tall, robust, black-haired man, with a thinness of hair on the top of his scalp, stooped slightly. His hands hung down and his fingers were like rakes. He often smiled in such a way as to suggest that he had just eaten something that was forbidden but very pleasant and was now licking his lips. His lips were bright red, thick; his nose fleshy; his face was eager, zealous but stupid. Peredonov was perturbed by everything he saw and heard in this place. He mumbled incoherent words and as he sat on his chair he tried to hold his cap in such a way that the Commissioner should see the badge. Minchukov sat opposite him on the other side of the table, very erect, and kept his amiable smile, while his rake-like fingers quietly moved on his knees, opening and shutting.