"Six hundred!" and Petunikoff smiled softly. "You are a funny
fellow!"

"The law is on my side. . . I can even demand two thousand. I
can insist on your pulling down the building . . . and enforce it
too. That is why my claim is so small. I demand that you should
pull it down!"

"Very well. Probably we shall do so . . . after three years, and
after having dragged you into enormous law expenses. And then,
having paid up, we shall open our public-house and you will be
ruined . . . annihilated like the Swedes at Poltava. We shall
see that you are ruined . . . we will take good care of that. We
could have begun to arrange about a public-house now, but you see
our time is valuable, and besides we are sorry for you. Why
should we take the bread out of your mouth without any reason?"

Egor Terentievitch looked at his guest, clenching his teeth, and
felt that he was master of the situation, and held his fate in
his hands. Vaviloff was full of pity for himself at having to
deal with this calm, cruel figure in the checked suit.

"And being such a near neighbour you might have gained a good
deal by helping us, and we should have remembered it too. Even
now, for instance, I should advise you to open a small shop for
tobacco, you know, bread, cucumbers, and so on. . . All these
are sure to be in great demand."

Vaviloff listened, and being a clever man, knew that to throw
himself upon the enemy's generosity was the better plan. It was