"Yes, I."
Now that the tall body of Sasha had disappeared and mingled with the dark mass of people at the platform, it seemed to Yevsey that he grew in size and spread over the court like a stifling cloud, which imperceptibly floated toward him in the darkness. Yevsey came out of his leaning posture, and walked toward the exit, stepping as on ice, as if fearing he would sink through a hole. But the adhesive voice of Sasha overtook him, pouring a painful cold on the back of his neck.
"Well, that fool will be the first to slash. I know him." Sasha laughed a thin howling laugh. "I have a slogan for him, 'Strike in behalf of the people.' And who said that Maklakov dropped the service?"
"He knows everything, the vile skunk," Yevsey said to himself with a calm that surprised him.
"I said it. I heard it from Viekov, and he got it from Klimkov."
"Viekov, Klimkov, Grokhotov—all trash. I'll step on the tails of all of them. Parasites, hybrids, lazy good-for-nothings. Is anyone of them here?"
"Klimkov must be here," answered Viakhirev.
Sasha shouted:
"Klimkov!"
Yevsey extended his arm before him, and walked faster. His legs bent under him. He heard Krasavin say: