“And now you’ve suddenly come to your senses; but it’s too late, old chap! Everyone else has long known him to be the sharper of our regiment,” said S⁠⸺, hardly able to refrain from laughter, and highly delighted at his invention.

“Here’s Guskov himself⁠—he prepares the cards for him. That is why they are friends, old chap!⁠ ⁠…” And Lieutenant-Captain S⁠⸺ laughed good-humouredly so that he shook all over and spilt some of the mulled wine he held in his hand. A faint tinge of colour seemed to rise on Guskov’s thin, yellow face; he opened his mouth repeatedly, lifted his hands to his moustaches and let them drop again to the places where his pockets should have been, several times began to rise but sat down again, and at last said in an unnatural voice, turning to S⁠⸺: