Special Assignments Read Free Page B

Governor's house. If you looked closely, even the exalted doorman had an air that was not so much grand as confused. There were some brisk, rough-looking fellows carrying trunks, boxes and crates with foreign lettering on them into the hallway from the street. Was someone moving then?
    Tulipov hopped and skipped up the stairs to the Court Counsellor and tried to keep within two paces of him, which meant that at times he had to trot in an undignified manner, because His Honour walked with a long and rapid stride.
    Oh, how beautiful it was in the Governor's residence! Almost like in a church: variegated columns (perhaps they were porphyry?), brocade door curtains, statues of Greek goddesses. And the chandeliers! And the pictures in gold frames! And the parquet gleaming like a mirror, with those inlaid patterns!
    Looking round at the parquet, Anisii suddenly noticed that his disgraceful shoes were leaving a dirty, wet trail on the wonderful floor. Oh Lord, don't let anyone notice that, he thought.
    In a spacious hall that was completely deserted but had armchairs standing along the walls, the Court Counsellor said: 'Sit here. And hold the folder.'
    He set off towards the tall, gilded doors, but they suddenly swung open to meet him. First there was a confused hubbub of voices in heated conversation, and then four men came out into the hall: a stately general, a lanky individual who did not look Russian wearing a check coat with a cape, a bald, skinny old man with absolutely immense sideburns and a civil functionary in uniform, wearing spectacles.
    Recognising the general as Prince Dolgorukoi himself, Anisii quivered and drew himself up to attention.
    From close up His Excellency did not look as fresh and sprightly as he appeared when viewed from a crowd: his face was covered with immensely deep wrinkles, his curls were unnaturally luxuriant, and the chestnut-brown of his long moustache and sideburns was too rich for a man of seventy-five.
    'Erast Petrovich, just in time!' exclaimed the Governor. 'He mangles his French so badly you can't understand a thing, and he hasn't got a single word of Russian. You know English. So please explain what he wants from me! And how he was ever admitted! I've been trying to make sense of him for the best part of an hour, but it's a waste of time!'
    'Your Excellency, how could we not have admitted him, when he's a lord and he visits the house,' the functionary in spectacles whined plaintively, clearly not for the first time. 'How could I have known ...'
    At this point the Englishman also started speaking, addressing the new man and indignantly waving some piece of paper covered with seals in the air.
    Erast Petrovich began translating dispassionately: 'This is a dishonest game; they don't do things like this in civilised countries. I was with this old gentleman yesterday; he signed a bill of sale for the house and we sealed the agreement with a handshake. And now, you see, he has decided not to move out. His grandson, Mr Speier, told me that the old gentleman was moving to a home for veterans of the Napoleonic Wars; he will be more comfortable there, because the care is good, and this mansion was for sale. This kind of dithering does him no credit, especially when the money has already been paid. And a large sum, too - a hundred thousand roubles. Here is the bill of sale!'
    'He's been waving yon piece of paper around for ages, but he won't let us have it,' remarked the bald old man, who had so far remained silent. Obviously he must be Frol Grigorievich Vedishchev.
    I'm Speier's grandfather?' the Prince babbled. 'They're putting me in an almshouse?'
    The functionary stole up to the Englishman from behind, stood on tiptoe and managed to sneak a glimpse at the mysterious sheet of paper.
    'It really does say a hundred thousand, and it's been witnessed by a notary' he confirmed. And it's our address: the house of Prince Dolgorukoi, Tverskaya Street.'
Fandorin asked: 'Vladimir Andreevich, who is this