"The scoundrels are the severest judges," the black-haired man announced quietly.
"Now, sir, we'll hear a case of robbery."
"It's some one I know," said Lunev softly.
"Ah!" cried the little man and shot a glance at him. "Let us have a look at your acquaintance!"
In Ilya's head all was confusion. He wanted to question this clever little man about many things, but the words rattled in his brain like peas in a basket. There was in the man something unpleasant, dangerous, that frightened Ilya, but at once the persistent thought of Petrusha in the seat of justice, swamped every other idea. The thought forged an iron ring round his heart and kept out every other.
As he drew near to the door of the hall he saw in the crowd in front of him the thick neck and small ears of Pavel Gratschev. Overjoyed, he twitched Pavel by the sleeve and smiled in his face; Pavel smiled too, but feebly, with evident effort.
"How are you?"
"How are you?"
They stood for a few moments in silence, and the thought of each was expressed almost simultaneously.
"Come to see?" asked Pavel with a wry smile.