"That's what we want to know," said Krasavin in a tone of demand. "And what sort of people are in it, too."
"In reality, brothers, the revolution has been transferred to other quarters," exclaimed Piotr, merrily and animatedly.
"If there really are princes in that society," Solovyov meditated dreamily, "then our business ought to improve."
"You have twenty thousand in the bank anyway, old devil."
"And maybe thirty. Count again," said Solovyov in an offended tone, and stepped aside.
Sasha coughed dully and hoarsely; while Maklakov regarded him with a scowl. Yevsey gradually freed himself from the thin shackles of the attraction that the sick spy had unexpectedly begun to exert upon him. His talk, which at first had seized Klimkov, now dissolved and disappeared from his soul like dust under rain.
"What are you looking at me for?" shouted Sasha at Maklakov.
Maklakov turned and walked away without answering. Yevsey involuntarily followed him.
"Did you understand anything?" Maklakov suddenly inquired of Yevsey.
"I don't like it."