“Your money is no good,” he said, showing the coupon, but apparently determined not to give it back.

“The coupon must be all right. I got it from a gentleman.”

“It is bad, I tell you. The coupon is forged.”

“Forged? Give it back to me.”

“I will not. You fellows have got to be punished for such tricks. Of course, you did it yourself⁠—you and some of your rascally friends.”

“Give me the money. What right have you⁠—”

“Sidor! Call a policeman,” said the barman to the waiter. Ivan Mironov was rather drunk, and in that condition was hard to manage. He seized the manager by the collar and began to shout.

“Give me back my money, I say. I will go to the gentleman who gave it to me. I know where he lives.”