Silence followed again.

“They are cunning; they were acting in collusion on Sunday,” he blurted out suddenly.⁠ ⁠…

“Oh, not a doubt of it,” I cried, pricking up my ears. “It was a got-up thing and it was too transparent, and so badly acted.”

“I don’t mean that. Do you know that it was all too transparent on purpose, that those⁠ ⁠… who had to, might understand it. Do you understand that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“ Tant mieux; passons. I am very irritable today.”

“But why have you been arguing with him, Stepan Trofimovitch?” I asked him reproachfully.