The police-officer struck a light and lit a pipe. He lived about a mile and a half off, and having been cruelly reprimanded for drunkenness by his superior, was in a zealous mood. Having arrived at ten o’clock in the evening, he wished to examine the body at once. Egór Miháylovitch asked Doútlof how he came to be there. On the way, Doútlof told the steward about the money he had found, and what the lady had done, and said he had come to ask Egór Miháylovitch’s permission.⁠ ⁠… To Doútlof’s horror, the steward demanded the envelope from him, and examined it. The police-officer even took the envelope in his hand, and asked curtly and dryly for the particulars.

“Oh dear, the money is lost!” thought Doútlof, and began justifying himself.

But the police-officer handed the money back to him.

“What a piece of luck for the clodhopper!” he said.

“It comes handy,” said Egór Miháylovitch. “He’s just been taking his nephew to be conscripted, and now he’ll buy him out.”