Paklin clasped his hands to his breast.
“Oh, your excellency! Extend your protection to him! He fully ... deserves ... your sympathy.”
Sipiagin snorted.
“You think so?”
“At any rate if not for him ... for your niece’s sake; for his wife!” (“Heavens! What lies I’m telling,” Paklin thought.)
Sipiagin half-closed his eyes.
“I see that you’re a very devoted friend. That’s a very good quality, very praiseworthy, young man. And so you said they lived in this neighbourhood?”
“Yes, your excellency; in a large establishment—” Here Paklin bit his tongue.
“Why, of course, at Solomin’s! that’s where they are! However, I knew it all along. I’ve been told so; I’ve already been informed.” (Mr. Sipiagin did not know this in the least, and no one had told him, but recollecting Solomin’s visit and their midnight interview, he promptly threw out this bait, which caught Paklin at once.)
“Since you know that,” he began and bit his tongue a second time.... But it was already too late. A single glance at Sipiagin made him realise that he had been playing with him as a cat plays with a mouse.