Piotr, Grokhotov, Yevsey, and two new spies were sitting in the office. One of the novices was a reddish, hook-nosed man with large freckles on his face and gold glasses; the other shaven, bald, and red-cheeked with a broad nose and a purple birthmark on his neck near his left ear. They listened attentively to Sasha's talk, glancing at each other sidewise. All kept silent. Piotr rose a number of times, and walked to the door. Finally he coughed aloud near it, upon which an invisible hand immediately closed it. The bald spy carefully felt his nose with his thick fingers, and asked quietly: "Who was it he called hybrids?" At first nobody responded, then Grokhotov sighing humbly said: "He calls everybody hybrid." "A smart beast!" exclaimed Piotr smiling dreamily. "Rotten to the core, but just see how his power keeps rising! That's what education will do for you." The bald-headed spy looked at everybody with his mole eyes, and again asked hesitatingly: "What does he mean--eh, eh--does he mean us?" "Politics," said Grokhotov. "Politics is a wise business. It's not squeamish." "If I had received an education, I too, would have turned up trumps," declared Piotr. The red-headed spy carelessly swung himself on his chair, his mouth frequently gaping in a wide yawn. Sasha emerged from the cabinet, livid and dishevelled. He stopped at the door, and looked at everybody. "Eavesdropping, eh?" he asked sarcastically. The rest of the spies dropped into the office one by one, wearily and dismally, flinging various remarks at one another. Maklakov came in an ill humor. The look in his eyes was sharp and insulting. He passed quickly into the cabinet, and banged the door behind him. "Tables are going to be turned," Sasha said to Piotr. "We'll be the secret society, and they'll remain patent fools. That's what's going to happen. Hey," he shouted, "no one is to leave the office. There's going to be a meeting." All grew still. Yasnogursky came out from the cabinet with a broad smile widening his large mouth. His protuberant fleshy ears reached to the back of his neck. All sleek and slippery, he produced the impression of a large piece of soap. He walked among the crowd of spies pressing their hands and kindly and humbly nodding his head. Suddenly he walked off into a corner, and began to address the agents in a lachrymose voice: "Good servants of the Czar, it is with a heart penetrated by grief that I address myself to you--to you, men without fear, men without reproach, true children of the Czar, your father, and of the true Orthodox Church, your mother,--to you I speak." "Look at him howling!" somebody whispered near Yevsey, who thought he heard Yasnogursky utter an ugly oath.