"My dear fellow," exclaimed the younger of the two, looking at him in a puzzled fashion, "what on earth is the meaning of all this? It won't do, you know. We must take care of you."
Petroff's eyes began to blink, and he pinched himself to make certain he was not dreaming. But no; everything was quite real. Here were two of the Czar's officers, whom he had no recollection of ever having seen before, actually claiming his acquaintance! Wonders would never cease! It was no time, however, for argument. Evidently the strangers meant him well, and if they were making a mistake he meant to profit by it. Shaking the speaker's hand, accordingly, he poured out his wrongs in an eager torrent.
The brilliant uniforms of the two new-comers had a magic effect upon Petroff's custodians.
"I beg your Excellency's pardon," said one of them, with a deferential salute, "but we found this—er—gentleman drunk in the streets, and we thought it best to take him to the station. May I inquire if you know him?"
The officer nodded.
"Certainly," he returned. "We know him very well indeed. In fact, he's a neighbour of ours. I'm afraid he's had too much to drink. We'll take charge of him, though, and see him safely home. Here's something for your trouble," he added, slipping a couple of roubles into the other's hand.
"Please call a cab, and we'll take the professor to his rooms," observed the second officer, who had not yet spoken.
Petroff smiled affably. It was much pleasanter to be called a professor than a drunken old man.
"It's all ri'," he exclaimed, delightedly. "These gentlemen are—hic—old friends of mine. We'll all go home together—see?"