"You fool! Bring them at once!"
Vaviloff wrinkled his forehead, and looked up inquiringly at the ceiling.
"By the bye, where the devil are those papers?"
Not finding any information on this question on the ceiling, the old soldier dropped his eyes towards the ground, and began thoughtfully drumming with his fingers on the counter.
"Stop those antics!" shouted Kouvalda, who had no love for the old soldier; as, according to the captain, it was better for a former non-commissioned officer to be a thief than a keeper of a vodka shop.
"Well now, Aristide Kouvalda, I think I remember! I believe those papers were left at the law-courts at the time when"—
"Jegorka! stop this fooling. It's to your own interest to do so. Show me the plans, the deed of sale, and all that you have got at once! Perhaps you will gain by this more than a hundred roubles! Do you understand now?"
Vaviloff understood nothing; but the captain spoke in such an authoritative and serious tone that the eyes of the old soldier sparkled with intense curiosity; and saying that he would go and see if the papers were not in his strong box, he disappeared behind the door of the counter. In a few moments he returned with the papers in his hand, and a look of great surprise on his coarse face.
"Just see! The damned things were after all in the house!"
"You circus clown! Who would think you had been a soldier!"