They were deadly pale.
“No, what is it?”
“Vulich has been murdered!”
I was petrified.
“Yes, murdered!” they continued. “Let us lose no time and go!”
“But where to?”
“You will learn as we go.”
We set off. They told me all that had happened, supplementing their story with a variety of observations on the subject of the strange predestination which had saved Vulich from imminent death half an hour before he actually met his end.
Vulich had been walking alone along a dark street, and the drunken Cossack who had cut up the pig had sprung out upon him, and perhaps would have passed him by without noticing him, had not Vulich stopped suddenly and said:
“Whom are you looking for, my man?”