deal table in the corner. The small man and Mitya sat down to this table, facing each other, while the huge Vrublevsky stood beside them, his hands behind his back. The Poles looked severe but were evidently inquisitive.
“What can I do for you, panie ?” lisped the little Pole.
“Well, look here, panie , I won’t keep you long. There’s money for you,” he pulled out his notes. “Would you like three thousand? Take it and go your way.”
The Pole gazed open-eyed at Mitya, with a searching look.
“Three thousand, panie ?”
He exchanged glances with Vrublevsky.
“Three, panovie , three! Listen, panie , I see you’re a sensible man. Take three thousand and go to the devil, and Vrublevsky with you—d’you hear? But, at once, this very minute, and forever. You understand that, panie , forever. Here’s the