Closing his eyes and smiling he stood a while longer. Then he heard steps and the jingling of spurs, and he comprehended that the men prisoners were being led along the street. He tore himself from the place, and trying to make his footsteps inaudible, quickly ran down the street, and turned the first corner. He kept up the same rapid pace almost the entire way to his home at which he arrived exhausted and covered with sweat. The evening of the next day Filip Filippovich casting his blue rays upon Yevsey said ceremoniously in a thinner voice than usual: "I congratulate you, Klimkov, on your fine achievement. I hope it will be the first link in a long chain of successes." Klimkov shifted from one foot to the other, and quietly spread out his arms, as if desiring to free himself from the invisible chain. There were a few spies in the room. They listened in silence to the sound of the saw, and looked at Yevsey, who without seeing them felt their glances upon his skin. He felt awkward and annoyed. When Filip Filippovich had finished talking, Yevsey quietly asked him for a transfer to another city. "That's nonsense, brother," said Filip Filippovich drily. "It's a shame to be a coward, especially at this time. What's the matter? Your first success, yet you want to be running off. I myself know when a transfer is necessary. Go." "There, they've rewarded me," thought Klimkov, dismally and with a sense of hurt. But he was in error. The reward came from Sasha. "Hey, you morel, you," he called to him, "there, take this." Touching Yevsey's hand with his dank yellow hand, he thrust a piece of paper into his grasp, and walked away. Yakov Zarubin leaped up to Yevsey. "How much?" "Twenty-five rubles," said Klimkov, unfolding the bill with reluctant fingers. "How many people were there?" "Seven." "Seven? Ugh!" Zarubin raised his eyes to the ceiling, and mumbled: "Twice, no three times, seven is twenty-one. Four into seven--three and a half per person." He whistled softly, and looking around announced: "Sasha got a hundred and fifty, and his bill of expenses in the affair was sixty-three rubles. They do us fools. Well, what now, Yevsey? Give us a treat. For joy!" "Come," said Klimkov, looking askance at the money. He could not make up his mind to put it in his pocket. CHAPTER XXIII On the way Zarubin said in a business-like way: "After all your people seem to have been trash." "Why?" asked Klimkov offended. He sighed, and said in a lower voice. "Not trash a bit."