'Quiet!'
He pulled the automatic out of his pocket and pointed it at Vasilisa, who gave a martyred smile.
From the corridor came more footsteps, muffled talk.
Then there was the sound of the bolt being drawn, the latch, the chain -and the door was locked again.
Footsteps again, men laughing.
After that the glass door slammed, the sound of steps receding upstairs and all was quiet.
The disfigured man went out into the lobby, leaned his head against the door and listened.
When he returned he exchanged meaning glances with the wolf and all three jostled their way out into the lobby.
There the giant wriggled his fingers inside his boots, which were rather tight.
'They'll be cold.'
And he put on Vasilisa's rubber overshoes.
The wolf turned to Vasilisa and said shiftily in a low voice:
'See here, mister . . .
Don't you tell anyone we've been here.
If you inform on us, our boys will beat you up.
Don't go out of the house till tomorrow, or you'll be in trouble . . .'
'Sorry', whined the man with the shattered nose.
The rosy-cheeked giant said nothing, but only looked shyly at Vasilisa, then delightedly at his gleaming overshoes.
As they walked quickly out of Vasilisa's door and along the passage to the front door, for some reason they tiptoed, jostling each other as they went.
The door was noisily unlocked, there was a glimpse of dark sky and with cold hands Vasilisa closed the bolts. His head swam, and for a moment he thought he was dreaming.
His heart almost stopped, then started beating faster and faster.
In the lobby Wanda was sobbing.
She collapsed on to a chest, knocking her head against the wall, and big tears poured down her face.
'God, what's happened to us?
God, oh God, Vasya ... in broad daylight.
What are we to do?'
Shaking like a leaf, Vasilisa stood in front of her, his face contorted.
'Vasya,' screamed Wanda, 'do you know - they weren't soldiers, they weren't from any headquarters!
They were just hoodlums!'
'I know, I realised that', Vasilisa mumbled, spreading his hands in despair.
'Lord!' Wanda exclaimed. 'You must go this minute, report them at once and try and catch them!
Mother of God!
All our things!
Everything!
If only there was somebody who . . .'
She shuddered and slid from the chest to the floor, covering her face with her hands.
Her hair was dishevelled, her blouse unbuttoned at the back.
'But where do we report them?' asked Vasilisa.
'To headquarters, for God's sake, to the police!
Make a formal complaint.
Quickly.
What's the matter?'
Vasilisa, who had been shuffling his feet, suddenly rushed for the door.
He ran to the Turbins' glass door and hammered on it noisily. *
Everybody except Shervinsky and Elena crowded into Vasilisa's apartment.
Lariosik, looking pale, stayed in the doorway.
Legs planted wide, Myshlaevsky inspected the foot-cloths and other rags abandoned by the unknown visitors and said to Vasilisa:
'Well, you won't see your things again, I'm afraid.
They weren't soldiers, just burglars.
You can thank God you're still alive.