With a glance at the giant's boots the disfigured man suddenly reached out and deftly snatched Vasilisa's trousers that were hanging on a hook alongside the washstand.
The wolf simply gave Vasilisa another suspicious glance - would he say anything? - but Vasilisa and Wanda said nothing; their faces were both the same shade of unrelieved white, their eyes wide and round.
The bedroom began to look like a corner of a ready-made clothing store.
The man with the disfigured face stood there in nothing but his torn, striped underpants and examined the trousers in the light.
'Nice bit of serge, this . . .' he said in a nasal whine, sat down in a blue armchair and began to pull them on.
The wolf exchanged his dirty tunic for Vasilisa's grey jacket, and said as he handed some papers back to Vasilisa:
'Here take these, mister, you may need them.' He picked up a globe-shaped glass clock from the table, its face adorned with broad Roman figures, and as the wolf pulled on his greatcoat the clock could be heard ticking underneath it.
'Useful thing, a clock.
Being without a clock's like being without hands', the wolf said to broken-nose, his attitude to Vasilisa noticeably relenting. 'I like to be able to see what time it is at night.'
Then all three moved off, back through the drawing-room to the study.
Together Vasilisa and Wanda followed after them.
In the study the wolf, squinting hard, looked thoughtful and said to Vasilisa:
'Better give us a receipt, Mister . . .' (His forehead creased like an accordion as he wrestled with some obviously disturbing thought.)
'What?' whispered Vasilisa.
'Receipt, saying you gave us these things', the wolf explained, staring at the floor.
Vasilisa's expression changed, his cheeks turned pink.
'But how can I . . .
What . . .' (He wanted to shout
'What! you mean to say I have to give you a receipt as well!' but quite different words came out.) 'Why do you need a receipt?'
'Ah, you ought to be shot like a dog, you . . . you blood sucker.
I know what you're thinking, I know.
If your people were in power you'd squash us like insects.
I can see there's no good to be had outof you.
Boys, put him up against the wall.
I'll give you such a thrashing . . .'
Working himself up until he was shaking with fury, he pushed Vasilisa against the wall and clutched him by the throat, at which Vasilisa instantly turned red.
'Oh!' shrieked Wanda in horror, tugging at the wolf's arm. 'Stop it!
Mercy, for God's sake!
Vasya, do as he says and write it!'
The wolf released the engineer's throat, and with a crack one half of his collar burst away from the stud as though on a spring.
Vasilisa did not remember how he came to be sitting in his chair.
With shaking hands he tore a sheet from a note-pad, dipped his pen into the ink.
In the silence the crystal globe could be heard ticking in the wolf's pocket.
'What shall I write?' Vasilisa asked in a weak, cracked voice.
The wolf began to think, his eyes blinking.
'Write . . . "By order of headquarters of the cossack division . . . I surrendered . . . articles . . . articles ... to the sergeant as follows"
'As follows . . .' croaked Vasilisa, and was silent.
'Then say what they are . . . "In the course of search.
I have no claims."
Then sign . . .'
Here Vasilisa gathered the last remnants of the breath in his body and turning his glance away from the wolf, he asked:
'Who shall I say I gave them to?'
The wolf looked suspiciously at Vasilisa, but he restrained his displeasure and only sighed.
'Write: Sergeant Nemolyak . . .' He thought for a moment, glancing at his companions. '. . . Sergeant Kirpaty and Hetman Uragan.'
Staring muzzily at the paper, Vasilisa wrote to the wolf's dictation.
Having written it, instead of his proper signature he wrote
'Vasilis' and handed the paper to the wolf, who took it and stared at it.
Just then the glass door at the top of the staircase slammed, footsteps were heard and Myshlaevsky's voice rang out.
The wolf scowled, his companions shuffled uneasily.
The wolf turned red in the face and hissed: