Gavrik drank noisily out of his saucer and shuffled his feet under the table.
"Has he killed her or not?" he asked his master, suddenly.
Lunev looked at him moodily and said:
"Drink your tea, and go to bed."
The samovar boiled and bubbled as though it would jump off the table. From the courtyard of a neighbouring house an angry cry resounded. "Nifont! Ni—if—ont."
Suddenly a dark figure appeared at the window, and a trembling, timid voice asked:
"Does Ilya Jakovlevitch live here?"
"Yes, he does," cried Gavrik, sprang up and flew to the door of the courtyard so quickly that Ilya had no time to say anything.
"It's sure to be she," he said in a loud whisper, holding the latch of the door.
"Who?" asked Ilya, involuntarily lowering his voice.