“By the time we get back all the others will have gone,” continued Ivanoff, “and we’ll drink at the side of the grave, giving honour to the dead and to ourselves enjoyment.”
“Very well.”
When they returned, not a living soul was to be seen The tomb-stones and crosses, erect and rigid, stood there as in mute expectation. From a heap of dry leaves a hideous black snake suddenly darted across the path.
“Reptile!” cried Ivanoff, shuddering.
Then, on to the grass beside the newly-made grave that smelt of humid mould and green fir-trees they flung their empty beer-bottles.
CHAPTER XLIII.
“Look here,” said Sanine, as they walked down the street in the dusk.
“Well, what is it?”
“Come to the railway-station with me. I’m going away.”
Ivanoff stood still.