“And what can I do for you, esteemed prince? Since I am told you sent for me just now,” he said, after a few moments’ silence.
“Oh, it was about the general,” began the prince, waking abruptly from the fit of musing which he too had indulged in; “and—and about the theft you told me of.”
“That is—er—about— what theft?”
“Oh come! just as if you didn’t understand, Lukian Timofeyovitch! What are you up to? I can’t make you out! The money, the money, sir! The 400 roubles that you lost that day. You came and told me about it one morning, and then went off to Petersburg. There, now do you understand?”
“Oh‑h‑h! You mean the 400 roubles!” said Lebedeff, dragging the words out, just as though it had only just dawned upon him what the prince was talking about. “Thanks very much, prince, for your kind interest—you do me too much honour. I found the money, long ago!”
“You found it? Thank God for that!”
“Your exclamation proves the generous sympathy of your nature, prince; for 400 roubles—to a struggling family man like myself—is no small matter!”
“I didn’t mean that; at least, of course, I’m glad for your sake, too,” added the prince, correcting himself, “but—how did you find it?”
“Very simply indeed! I found it under the chair upon which my coat had hung; so that it is clear the purse simply fell out of the pocket and on to the floor!”
“Under the chair? Impossible! Why, you told me yourself that you had searched every corner of the room? How could you not have looked in the most likely place of all?”