The youth by the fire roused himself reluctantly and gave an angry look at the intruders. It was plain he felt that people so poorly dressed had no business in the hotel. He eyed the bundle which Katerin had put down, and then motioned them out of the door with an angry gesture. “Get away with your cabbages!” he snarled. “This is no public place where people can warm themselves. This is the best hotel in the city and only for rich people.” Michael bowed abjectly. “I have come to pay to Mr. Slipitsky money which I owe him.” The youth stared the harder. The heat from the stove was oppressive after the cold of the streets, but Michael and Katerin made no move to uncover their faces. “You can give me the money,” said the youth, holding out his hand, though he did not rise from the bench. “Slipitsky is not here and if he were, he would have no time to bother with you. Come! Hand the money to me and get out!” “Slipitsky not here?” demanded Michael. “But he told me to come. You mean that he has gone away?” “I said he is not here,” said the youth curtly. “I have other things to do besides answer questions. I’ll take the money.” “No, no,” said Michael. “Mr. Slipitsky must sign the paper if I pay him the money—it is always so. I do not know who you are. I must see Mr. Slipitsky, I tell you.” The youth got to his feet and looked closely at Michael, as if suspicious of his purpose. He had probably been shrewd enough to understand that Michael did not talk wholly as a peasant. Having scrutinized Michael, he turned and looked at Katerin, but she ignored his gaze and looked about the walls at the dirty old posters with pictures of Russian ships. “Go away!” said the youth finally. “I can’t be troubled. This is no time to come asking for Mr. Slipitsky.” “But I have come twenty versts this morning to see Mr. Slipitsky and give him the money and I must get back to my cow,” insisted Michael, seeing that he was making an impression on the youth despite the latter’s show of contempt. “And if I have to go back to my house, it will be two months again before I can pay——” A black figure appeared at the top of the stairs while Michael was talking, and called down sharply, “Dazo! What are you doing? Who is there?” “I don’t know who it is,” said Dazo. “Some fools in from the country who have lost their way and——” “And is it a grand ball or something you are having down there with all this talk I hear, till I can’t do anything with my figures?” demanded the one above wrathfully. “Who is it come to talk with you so early in the morning? Maybe some rich gentleman from Moscow, eh?” Michael now recognized the person above as Slipitsky, and knowing that they were safe at last, called out, “Mr. Slipitsky, I have come to pay you the money I owe to you.”