Next morning, at eight o’clock, he repaired to the building where he knew the old man and the girl to reside, and entered a narrow, dirty court which more resembled a house-sewer than anything else. In this court he found working a dvornik1—a little fellow of Tartar origin who, though not more than twenty-five years of age, had a prematurely wrinkled, senile face. On perceiving Ordynov the dvornik desisted from his labours, rested his chin upon his arms, surveyed the newcomer from head to foot, and asked him what he wanted.
“I want a lodging,” replied Ordynov briefly.
“Which one?” inquired the dvornik with a grin, and a look as though he could read Ordynov’s thoughts.
“A lodging to rent, of course,” retorted the other.
“Well, there are none to be had in that house,” said the dvornik, indicating the next-door tenement with a derisive glance.
“And what about this one?”
“There are none to be had here either,” said the dvornik, resuming his work.
“Perhaps they will let me have one, after all?” went on Ordynov, as at the same moment he slipped a grivennik2 into the man’s hand.
The Tartar glanced at Ordynov, pocketed the coin, and once more resumed his work. After a moment’s silence he said with an air of finality—
“No; there are no lodgings to be had here.”
But the young man had ceased to take any notice of him. Stepping carefully across the yielding, half-mouldy planks which spanned the kennel, he made his way towards the only entrance which gave upon the foul, black, mud-encumbered yard of the wing of the building. He found the ground floor to be tenanted by a coffin-maker, so, passing by the workshop of this artisan, he ascended a winding, dilapidated, slippery staircase to the next floor, where, groping about in the dark, he soon happened upon a rough, stout wooden door which was screened by some curtains of ragged matting. Lastly, after further search, he found the latch, and lifted it. He had not been mistaken. Before him stood the old man, gazing at him with an air of extreme surprise.
“What do you want?” he asked brusquely, and almost in a whisper.
“Have you a room to let?” murmured the other, hardly knowing what he said, for the reason that behind the old man’s shoulders he had just caught sight of the Unknown.
The old man silently made a move as though to shut his visitor outside; but at that moment Ordynov heard the caressing voice of the young girl murmur——
“Yes, there is a room to let.”
Upon this the old man released his hold of the door.
“I only want quite a small one,” said Ordynov, hastening to enter, and addressing himself exclusively to the girl. Then he stopped short in stupefaction as his eyes, for the first time, got a good view of his future hosts. Before him there was taking place a dumb, unspoken drama. The old man had turned as pale as death, and looked almost ready to faint as he trained upon the girl a leaden-eyed, yet steady and penetrating, glance. She too had turned pale; but presently the blood remounted to her face, and her eyes flashed with a strange light as she conducted Ordynov into a neighbouring apartment.