“Come, come!” cried the Grandmother so energetically, and with such an air of menace, that I did not dare refuse the money further.
“If, when in Moscow, you have no place where you can lay your head,” she added, “come and see me, and I will give you a recommendation. Now, Potapitch, get things ready.”
I ascended to my room, and lay down upon the bed. A whole hour I must have lain thus, with my head resting upon my hand. So the crisis had come! I needed time for its consideration. Tomorrow I would have a talk with Polina. Ah! The Frenchman! So, it was true? But how could it be so? Polina and De Griers! What a combination!
No, it was too improbable. Suddenly I leapt up with the idea of seeking Astley and forcing him to speak. There could be no doubt that he knew more than I did. Astley? Well, he was another problem for me to solve.
Suddenly there came a knock at the door, and I opened it to find Potapitch awaiting me.
“Sir,” he said, “my mistress is asking for you.”
“Indeed? But she is just departing, is she not? The train leaves in ten minutes’ time.”
“She is uneasy, sir; she cannot rest. Come quickly, sir; do not delay.”
I ran downstairs at once. The Grandmother was just being carried out of her rooms into the corridor. In her hands she held a roll of banknotes.
“Alexis Ivanovitch,” she cried, “walk on ahead, and we will set out again.”
“But whither, Madame?”
“I cannot rest until I have retrieved my losses. March on ahead, and ask me no questions. Play continues until midnight, does it not?”