"I congratulate you, Klimkov, on your fine achievement. I hope it will be the first link in a long chain of successes."
Klimkov shifted from one foot to the other, and quietly spread out his arms, as if desiring to free himself from the invisible chain.
There were a few spies in the room. They listened in silence to the sound of the saw, and looked at Yevsey, who without seeing them felt their glances upon his skin. He felt awkward and annoyed.
When Filip Filippovich had finished talking, Yevsey quietly asked him for a transfer to another city.
"That's nonsense, brother," said Filip Filippovich drily. "It's a shame to be a coward, especially at this time. What's the matter? Your first success, yet you want to be running off. I myself know when a transfer is necessary. Go."
"There, they've rewarded me," thought Klimkov, dismally and with a sense of hurt. But he was in error. The reward came from Sasha.
"Hey, you morel, you," he called to him, "there, take this."
Touching Yevsey's hand with his dank yellow hand, he thrust a piece of paper into his grasp, and walked away.
Yakov Zarubin leaped up to Yevsey.
"How much?"