Standing before me in the drizzle was an elegant man of smallish stature, wearing a short cream-colored raincoat of immaculate cleanliness, with its collar raised. He removed his hat and pronounced in a dignified manner:
“Begging your pardon, Alexander Ivanovich. Would you be so kind as to allow me five minutes to converse with you?”
“Of course,” I said distractedly. “Come in….”
I saw this man for the first time in my life, and the thought flashed through my mind that he might be connected with the local police. The stranger stepped into the hall and made a motion to enter my room directly. I blocked his way. I don’t know why I did it; most likely I did not relish the prospect of questions about the dust and litter on the floor.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled. “Perhaps we can talk here… my pla
