'Well, then, no one could have stolen him but he! Consider it yourself, listen, stand here!... What's your name?'
The Jew started and turned his little black eyes upon Tchertop-hanov.
'What's my name?'
'Yes, yes; what are you called?'
'Moshel Leyba.'
'Well, judge then, Moshel Leyba, my friend--you're a man of sense--whom would Malek-Adel have allowed to touch him except his old master? You see he must have saddled him and bridled him and taken off his cloth--there it is lying on the hay!... and made all his arrangements simply as if he were at home! Why, anyone except his master, Malek-Adel would have trampled under foot! He'd have raised such a din, he'd have roused the whole village? Do you agree with me?'
'I agree, I agree, your ex-shelency.'...
'Well, then, it follows that first of all we must find this Cossack!'
'But how are we to find him, your ex-shelency? I have only seen him one little time in my life, and where is he now, and what's his name? Alack, alack!' added the Jew, shaking the long curls over his ears sorrowfully.
'Leyba!' shouted Tchertop-hanov suddenly; 'Leyba, look at me! You see I've lost my senses; I'm not myself!... I shall lay hands on myself if you don't come to my aid!'