"How do you do, Semenitch! I haven't seen you for a long time," quietly replied Tchelkache, extending his hand.
"I could get along without ever seeing you! Go about your business!"
However, Semenitch shook the hand that was extended to him.
"You're just the one I want to see," pursued Tchelkache, without loosening the hold of his hooked fingers on Semenitch's hand, and shaking it familiarly. "Have you seen Michka?"
"What Michka? I don't know any Michka! Get along with you, friend, or the inspector'll see you; he—"
"The red-haired fellow who used to work with me on board the
'Kostroma,'" continued Tchelkache, unmoved.
"Who stole with you would be nearer the truth! Your Michka has been sent to the hospital: his leg was crushed under a bar of iron. Go on, friend, take my advice or else I shall have to beat you."
"Ah!—And you were saying: I don't know Michka! You see that you do know him. What's put you out, Semenitch?"
"Enough, Grichka, say no more and off with you—"
The officer was getting angry and, darting apprehensive glances on either side, tried to free his hand from the firm grasp of Tchelkache. The last named looked at him calmly from under his heavy eyebrows, while a slight smile curved his lips, and without releasing his hold of the officer's hand, continued talking.