The man he was tracking stopped at the steps of a house, pushed the bell button, raised his hat, fanned his face with it, and flung it back on his head, leaving bare part of a bald skull. Yevsey stationed himself five steps away at the curb. He looked pityingly into the man's face, and felt the need to tell him something. The man observed him, frowned, and turned away. Yevsey, disconcerted, dropped his head, and sat down on the curb. "If he only had insulted me," he thought. "But this way, without any provocation, it's not good, it's not good." "From the Department of Safety?" he heard a low hissing voice. The question was asked by a tall reddish muzhik with a dirty apron and a broom in his hands. "Yes," responded Yevsey, and the very same instant thought, "I ought not to have told him." "A new one again?" remarked the janitor. "You are all after Kurnosov?" "Yes." "So? Tell the officers that this morning a guest came to him from the railroad station with trunks, three trunks. He hasn't registered yet with the police. He has twenty-four hours' time. A little sort of a pretty fellow with a small mustache. He wears clean clothes." The dvornik ran the broom over the pavement several times, and sprinkled Yevsey's shoes and trousers with mud. Presently he stopped to remark, "You can be seen here. They aren't fools either, they notice your kind. You ought to stand at the gates." Yevsey obediently stepped to the gates. Suddenly he noticed Yakov Zarubin on the other side of the street wearing a new overcoat and gloves and carrying a cane. The black derby hat was tilted on his head, and as he walked along the pavement he smiled and ogled like a street girl confident of her beauty. "Good morning," he said, looking around. "I came to replace you. Go to Somov's café on Lebed Street, ask for Nikolay Pavlov there." "Are you in the Department of Safety, too?" asked Yevsey. "I got there ten days before you. Why?" Yevsey looked at him, at his beaming swart countenance. "Was it you who told about me?" "And didn't you betray the Smokestack?" After thinking a while Yevsey answered glumly: "I did it after you had betrayed me. You were the only one I told." "And you were the only one the Smokestack told. Ugh!" Yakov laughed, and gave Yevsey a poke on the shoulder. "Go quick, you crooked chicken!" He walked by Yevsey's side swinging his cane. "This is a good position. I understand so much. You can live like a lord, walk about, and look at everything. You see this suit? Now the girls show me especial attention." Soon he took leave of Yevsey, and turned back quickly. Klimkov following him with an inimical glance fell to thinking. He considered Yakov a dissolute, empty fellow, whom he placed lower than himself, and it was offensive to see him so well satisfied and so elegantly dressed.