“Finemastersthese——masterswhogrudgeoneagroat，andsquanderarouble！WhatifafireWEREtobreakout？Oh，theblockheads！“

　　Presently，theproprietorsinpersonissuedintothecourtyard——thestout，baldPeterBirkin，amanwhosefacewasflushedeventothewhitesofhisshiftyeyes，and，closebehindhim，ekehisshadow，JonahBirkin——apersonofsandy，sullenmien，andoverhangingbrows，anddull，heavyeyes。

　　“Goodday，dearsir，“saidPeterBirkinthinly，aswithapuffyhandheraisedfromhisheadaclothcap，whileJonahnodded。

　　Andthen，withasidelongglanceatmyself，askedinadeepbassvoice:

　　“Whoisthisyoungman？“

......

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