cravat, at his moving lips; he listened and in his mind the languid
thought seemed to spring up of itself:

"Everyone wears a short jacket nowadays, why has he had his made
long? Why long and not short?"

The circumspect creak of boots was audible behind the president's
back. It was the assistant prosecutor going up to the table to take
some papers.

"Mihail Vladimirovitch," said the assistant prosecutor, bending
down to the president's ear, "amazingly slovenly the way that
Koreisky conducted the investigation. The prisoner's brother was
not examined, the village elder was not examined, there's no making
anything out of his description of the hut. . . ."

"It can't be helped, it can't be helped," said the president, sinking
back in his chair. "He's a wreck . . . dropping to bits!"

"By the way," whispered the assistant prosecutor, "look at the
audience, in the front row, the third from the right . . . a face
like an actor's . . . that's the local Croesus. He has a fortune
of something like fifty thousand."

"Really? You wouldn't guess it from his appearance. . . . Well,
dear boy, shouldn't we have a break?"

"We will finish the case for the prosecution, and then. . . ."

"As you think best. . . . Well?" the president raised his eyes to