"Wash it, and put in fresh ink," ordered Klimkov. Then he walked into the dressing-room, where he stationed himself before the looking-glass and carefully regarded his thin face, grey and angular, with its sharp little nose and narrow lips. He searched for signs of a mustache, looked into his watery and uncertain eyes. "I must get my hair cut," he decided after failing to smooth the thin, light tufts of hair on his head. "And I ought to wear starched collars; my neck is too thin." The very same evening he got his hair cut, bought two collars, and felt himself still more a man. The Smokestack was attentive and kind in his behavior toward Yevsey, but often a smile of derision gleamed in his eyes which somewhat disconcerted and awed the young fellow. Whenever the hunchback came, the old man's face assumed a preoccupied expression, and his voice sounded stern. He cut short almost everything the other man said with an objection: "It's not that--it's not so--no, you're no wiser than I am--your brain is like a poor gun, it scatters the thought on all sides. You ought to shoot so that the whole charge goes in the same direction." The hunchback shook his head sadly, and answered in a thick voice: "Wait. Good work cannot be done in a day. You must keep at it." "Time flies, the enemy grows." "By the way, I noticed a man the other day," said the hunchback, "who took lodgings not far from my place. He was tall, had a pointed beard and screwed-up eyes, and walked quickly. I asked the dvornik where he was working. He told me the man had come to look for a position. I immediately wrote a letter to the Department of Safety. You see?" The Smokestack interrupted his talk with a wide sweep of his arm. "That's not important. The house is damp, that's why there are roaches in it. You won't get rid of them that way. The house must be made dry." Another time in the course of the evening the Smokestack said: "I am a soldier. I commanded half a company, and I understand life. It is necessary for everybody to be thoroughly familiar with the laws and regulations. Such knowledge produces unanimity. What hinders knowledge of the law? Poverty and stupidity; stupidity in itself being a result of poverty. Why doesn't he fight poverty? In want is the root of human folly and of hostility to him, the Czar." Yevsey greedily swallowed the old man's words, and believed them. The root of all human misfortune is poverty. That was clear and simple. Hence come envy, malice, cruelty. Hence also greed and the fear of life common to all people, the apprehension of one another. The Smokestack's plan was also simple. The Czar was rich, the people poor; then let the Czar give the people his riches, and all would be contented and good.