A silence, as dark and as miserable as the autumn night, continued for a few moments longer. Then someone spoke in a whisper.
"What is it?" the others asked aloud.
"I say that after all he was a good sort of fellow; he had a clever head on his shoulders, and so quiet and gentle!"
"Yes; and when he got hold of money he never grudged spending it amongst his friends."
Once more silence fell on the company.
"He is going!"
Tiapa's cry rang out over the captain's head.
Aristide Fomitch rose, making an effort to walk, firmly, and went towards the doss-house.
"What are you going for?" said Tiapa, stopping him. "Don't you know that you are drunk, and that it's not the right thing?"
The captain paused and reflected.