Yevsey put his hand in his pocket to get out the letter, and said in an embarrassed tone:
"You will tell me later. Sit down, and have your dinner."
His face was weary, his eyes dim, his light straight hair dishevelled.
"Evidently got drunk yesterday," thought Yevsey.
"No, Timofey Vasilyevich," the squint-eyed man said coldly and solemnly. "You are not right. There's something pleasant in every line of work if you love it."
Maklakov looked at him, and drank a large glass of whiskey in one gulp.
"They are people, we are people, that doesn't signify anything. One says this, another says that, and I do just as I please."
The squint-eyed man noticed that Yevsey was looking at his eyeballs as they rolled apart, and put on a pair of glasses with tortoise-shell rims. His movements were soft and alert, like a black cat's. His teeth were small and sharp, his nose straight and thin. When he spoke his rosy ears moved. His crooked fingers kept quickly rolling a crumb of bread into little pellets, which he placed on the edge of his plate.
"An assistant?" he asked, nodding his head toward Yevsey.
"Oh, oh!" Krasavin nodded his head. Pinching his thin dark mustache, he began to speak fluently: "Of course, Timofey Vasilyevich, you can't step on the trail of life's destiny. According to God's law, children grow old, people die. Only all this doesn't concern you and me. We received our appointed task. We are told to catch the people who infringe on law and order. That's all. It's a hard business, it's a clever business. To use a figure of speech, it is a kind of hunt."
Maklakov rose from the table, and walked into a corner, from where he beckoned to Yevsey.
Yevsey gave him the note. The spy read it, looked into Klimkov's face in astonishment, and read it again.
"From whom is this?" he asked in a low voice.
Yevsey answered in an embarrassed whisper.
"He himself gave it to me. He came out into the street."
In the expectation of a rebuke, or even a blow, he bent his neck. But hearing a low laugh he cautiously raised his head, and saw the spy looking at the envelope with a broad smile on his face and a merry gleam in his eyes.
"Oh, you strange fellow," said Maklakov. "Now keep quiet about this, you droll creature."