“In the office?” asked Nekhludoff.
“No, here in the interviewing-room.”.
“Why, is it a visiting day to-day?”
“No; it’s special business.”
“I should like to see him. What am I to do?” said Nekhludoff.
“When the inspector comes out you’ll tell him—wait a bit,” said the jailer.
At this moment a sergeant-major, with a smooth, shiny face and moustaches impregnated with tobacco smoke, came out of a side door, with the gold cords of his uniform glistening, and addressed the jailer in a severe tone.
“What do you mean by letting any one in here? The office. . . .”
“I was told the inspector was here,” said Nekhludoff, surprised at the agitation he noticed in the sergeant-major’s manner.
At this moment the inner door opened, and Petrov came out, heated and perspiring.