However, instead of probing deeper into the subject of Chichikov’s ailments, Murazov turned to Khlobuev.
“I saw you enter the shop,” he said, “and therefore followed you, for I have something important for your ear. Could you spare me a minute or two?”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Khlobuev, and the pair left the shop together.
“I wonder what is afoot between them,” said Chichikov to himself.
“A wise and noble gentleman, Athanasi Vassilievitch!” remarked the tradesman. Chichikov made no reply save a gesture.
“Paul Ivanovitch, I have been looking for you everywhere,” Lienitsin’s voice said from behind him, while again the tradesman hastened to remove his cap. “Pray come home with me, for I have something to say to you.”
Chichikov scanned the speaker’s face, but could make nothing of it. Paying the tradesman for the cloth, he left the shop.
Meanwhile Murazov had conveyed Khlobuev to his rooms.
“Tell me,” he said to his guest, “exactly how your affairs stand. I take it that, after all, your aunt left you something?”
“It would be difficult to say whether or not my affairs are improved,” replied Khlobuev. “True, fifty souls and thirty thousand roubles came to me from Madame Khanasarova, but I had to pay them away to satisfy my debts. Consequently I am once more destitute. But the important point is that there was trickery connected with the legacy, and shameful trickery at that. Yes, though it may surprise you, it is a fact that that fellow Chichikov—”