"Send him in here, that authorised whatever he is," he said to Maria Stepanovna.
"What can I do for you?" Persikov asked in a tone that made the authorised whatever he was shudder perceptibly.
Persikov shifted his spectacles from his nose to his forehead and back again, and looked his visitor up and down.
The latter glistened with hair cream and precious stones, and a monocle sat in his right eye.
"What a foul-looking face," Persikov thought to himself for some reason.
The guest began in circuitous fashion by asking permission to smoke a cigar, as a result of which Persikov reluctantly invited him to take a seat.
Then the guest began apologising at length for having come so late. "But it's impossible to catch ... oh, tee-hee, pardon me ... to find the Professor at home in the daytime." (The guest gave a sobbing laugh like a hyena.)
"Yes, I'm very busy!" Persikov answered so curtly that the visitor shuddered visibly again.
Nevertheless he had taken the liberty of disturbing the famous scientist.
Time is money, as they say ... the Professor didn't object to his cigar, did he?
"Hrmph, hrmph, hrmph," Persikov replied.
He'd given him permission."
"You have discovered the ray of life, haven't you, Professor?"
"Balderdash! What life?
The newspapers invented that!"
"Oh, no, tee-hee-hee..." He perfectly understood the modesty that is an invariable attribute of all true scholars... of course... There had been telegrams today... In the cities of Warsaw and Riga they had already heard about the ray.
Professor Persikov's name was on everyone's lips... The whole world was following his work with bated breath... But everyone knew how hard it was for scholars in Soviet Russia.
Entre nous, soi-dis... There wasn't anyone else listening, was there?
Alas, they didn't appreciate academic work here, so he would like to have a little talk with the Professor... A certain foreign state was offering Professor Persikov entirely disinterested assistance with his laboratory research.
Why cast your pearls here, as the Scriptures say?
This state knew how hard it had been for the Professor in 'nineteen and 'twenty during that tee-hee ... revolution.
Of course, it would all be kept absolutely secret. The Professor would inform the state of the results of his work, and it would finance him in return.
Take that chamber he had built, for instance. It would be interesting to have a peep at the designs for it...
At this point the guest took a pristine wad of banknotes out of his inside jacket pocket...
A mere trifle, a deposit of 5,000 roubles, say, could be given to the Professor this very moment... no receipt was required. The authorised whatever he was would be most offended if the Professor even mentioned a receipt.
"Get out!" Persikov suddenly roared so terrifyingly that the high keys on the piano in the drawing-room vibrated.
The guest vanished so quickly that after a moment Persikov, who was shaking with rage, was not sure whether he had been a hallucination or not.
"His galoshes?" Persikov yelled a moment later in the hall.
"The gentleman forgot them, sir," replied a quaking Maria Stepanovna.
"Throw them out!"
"How can I?
The gentleman's bound to come back for them."
"Hand them over to the house committee.
And get a receipt.
Don't let me ever set eyes on them again!
Take them to the committee!
Let them have that spy's galoshes!"
Maria Stepanovna crossed herself, picked up the splendid leather galoshes and took them out of the back door.
She stood outside for a while, then hid the galoshes in the pantry.
"Handed them over?" growled Persikov.
"Yes, sir."
"Give me the receipt."
"But the Chairman can't write, Vladimir Ipatych!"
"Get. Me. A. Receipt. At. Once.
Let some literate rascal sign it for him."
Maria Stepanovna just shook her head, went off and returned a quarter of an hour later with a note which said:
"Rcvd for storage from Prof. Persikov I (one) pr. ga's.
Kolesov."
"And what might that be?"
"It's a baggage check, sir."