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  "signing": "0FD6DB8BEA6901A6498D39723EE07661EC22C2A75A15138D5676888BC4ACC4DE",
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    "encrypted": "D51B8972D6269F8999C8E94EB6B9FB941CB2860FD96D9798652029F2D4BDF71BEEC5F5A8AD239A44133991CDD98953CBD1BFE5CEF73301A2BDCEF3336E17C3F6340F01C64F87A239",
    "zone": "merch",
    "info": "The Master and Margarita, BOOK 1, ch 17\nby Mikhail Bulgakov, 1891-1940\nTranslated by:\nRichard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky",
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        "domain": "maybe.merch",
        "data": "hapter 17\nAn Unquiet Day.\n On Friday morning, that is, the day after the accursed seance, all the available\nstaff of the Variety\u2014the bookkeeper Vassily Stepanovich Lastochkin, two\naccountants, three typists, both box-office girls, the messengers, ushers, cleaning\nwomen\u2014in short, all those available, were not at their places doing their jobs, but\nwere all sitting on the window-sills looking out on Sadovaya and watching what\nwas going on by the wall of the Variety. By this wall a queue of many thousands\nclung in two rows, its tail reaching to Kudrinskaya Square. At the head of the line\nstood some two dozen scalpers well known to theatrical Moscow.\n The line behaved with much agitation, attracting the notice of the citizens\nstreaming past, and was occupied with the discussion of inflammatory tales about\nyesterday\u2019s unprecedented seance of black magic. These same tales caused the\ngreatest consternation in the bookkeeper Vassily Stepanovich, who had not been\npresent at the previous evening\u2019s performance. The ushers told of God knows\nwhat, among other things that after the conclusion of the famous seance, some\nfemale citizens went running around in the street looking quite indecent, and so\non in the same vein. The modest and quiet Vassily Stepanovich merely blinked his\neyes, listening to the tall tales of these wonders, and decidedly did not know what\nto undertake, and yet something had to be undertaken, and precisely by him,\nbecause he now turned out to be the senior member of the whole Variety team.\n By ten o\u2018clock the line of people desiring tickets had swelled so much that\nrumour of it reached the police, and with astonishing swiftness detachments were\nsent, both on foot and mounted, to bring this line into some sort of order.\nHowever, in itself even an orderly snake a half-mile long presented a great\ntemptation, and caused utter amazement in the citizens on Sadovaya.\n That was outside, but inside the Variety things were also none too great. Early\nin the morning the telephones began to ring and went on ringing without\ninterruption in Likhodeev\u2019s office, in Rimsky\u2019s office, at the bookkeeper\u2018s, in the\nbox office, and in Varenukha\u2019s office. Vassily Stepanovich at first made some\nanswer, the box-office girl also answered, the ushers mumbled something into the\ntelephones, but then they stopped altogether, because to questions of where\nLikhodeev, Varenukha and Rimsky were, there was decidedly no answer. At first\nthey tried to get off by saying \u2019Likhodeev\u2019s at home\u2018, but the reply to this was that\nthey had called him at home, and at home they said Likhodeev was at the Variety.\n An agitated lady called, started asking for Rimsky, was advised to call his wife,\nto which the receiver, sobbing, answered that she was his wife and that Rimsky\nwas nowhere to be found. Some sort of nonsense was beginning. The cleaning\nwoman had already told everybody that when she came to the findirector\u2019s office to\nclean, she saw the door wide open, the lights on, the window to the garden broken,\nthe armchair lying on the floor, and no one in the office.\n Shortly after ten o\u2018clock, Madame Rimsky burst into the Variety. She was\nsobbing and wringing her hands. Vassily Stepanovich was utterly at a loss and did\nnot know how to counsel her. Then at half past ten came the police. Their first and\nperfectly reasonable question was:\n \u2018What\u2019s going on here, citizens? What\u2019s this all about?\u2019\n The team stepped back, bringing forward the pale and agitated Vassily\nStepanovich. He had to call things by their names and confess that the\nadministration of the Variety in the persons of the director, the findirector and the\nadministrator had vanished and no one knew where, that the master of\nceremonies had been taken to a psychiatric hospital after yesterday\u2019s seance, and\nthat, to put it briefly, this seance yesterday had frankly been a scandalous seance.\n The sobbing Madame Rimsky, having been calmed down as much as possible,\nwas sent home, and the greatest interest was shown in the cleaning woman\u2019s story\nabout the shape in which the findirector\u2019s office had been found. The staff were\nasked to go to their places and get busy, and in a short while the investigation\nappeared in the Variety building, accompanied by a sharp-eared, muscular, ashcoloured dog with extremely intelligent eyes. The whisper spread at once among\nthe Variety staff that the dog was none other than the famous Ace of Diamonds.\nAnd so it was. His behaviour amazed them all. The moment Ace of Diamonds ran\ninto the findirector\u2019s office, he growled, baring his monstrous yellow fangs, then\ncrouched on his belly and, with some sort of look of anguish and at the same time\nof rage in his eyes, crawled towards the broken window. Overcoming his fear, he\nsuddenly jumped up on the window-sill and, throwing back his sharp muzzle,\nhowled savagely and angrily. He refused to leave the window, growled and\ntwitched, and kept trying to jump out.\n The dog was taken from the office and turned loose in the lobby, whence he\nwalked out through the main entrance to the street and led those following him to\nthe cab stand. There he lost the trail he had been pursuing. After that Ace of\nDiamonds was taken away.\n The investigation settled in Varenukha\u2019s office, where they began summoning in\nturn all the Variety staff members who had witnessed yesterday\u2019s events during\nthe seance. It must be said that the investigation had at every step to overcome\nunforeseen difficulties. The thread kept snapping off in their hands.\n There had been posters, right? Right. But during the night they had been pasted\nover with new ones, and now, strike me dead, there wasn\u2019t a single one to be\nfound! And the magician himself, where had he come from? Ah, who knows! But\nthere was a contract drawn up with him?\n \u2018I suppose so,\u2019 the agitated Vassily Stepanovich replied.\n \u2018And if one was drawn up, it had to go through bookkeeping?\u2019\n \u2018Most assuredly,\u2019 responded the agitated Vassily Stepanovich.\n \u2018Then where is it?\u2019\n \u2018Not here,\u2019 the bookkeeper replied, turning ever more pale and spreading his\narms.\n And indeed no trace of the contract was found in the files of the bookkeeping\noffice, nor at the findirector\u2018s, nor at Likhodeev\u2019s or Varenukha\u2019s.\n And what was this magician\u2019s name? Vassily Stepanovich did not know, he had\nnot been at the seance yesterday. The ushers did not know, the box-office girl\nwrinkled her brow, wrinkled it, thought and thought, and finally said:\n \u2018Wo \u2026 Woland, seems like\u2026\u2019\n Or maybe not Woland? Maybe not Woland. Maybe Faland.\n It turned out that in the foreigners\u2019 bureau they had heard precisely nothing\neither about any Woland, or for that matter any Faland, the magician.\n The messenger Karpov said that this same magician was supposedly staying in\nLikhodeev\u2019s apartment. The apartment was, of course, visited at once\u2014no\nmagician was found there. Likhodeev himself was not there either. The\nhousekeeper Grunya was not there, and where she had gone nobody knew. The\nchairman of the management, Nikanor Ivanovich, was not there, Bedsornev was\nnot there!\n Something utterly preposterous was coming out: the whole top administration\nhad vanished, a strange, scandalous seance had taken place the day before, but\nwho had produced it and at whose prompting, no one knew.\n And meanwhile it was drawing towards noon, when the box office was to open.\nBut, of course, there could be no talk of that! A huge piece of cardboard was\nstraight away posted on the doors of the Variety reading: \u2018Today\u2019s Show Cancelled\u2019.\nThe line became agitated, beginning at its head, but after some agitation, it\nnevertheless began to break up, and about an hour later no trace of it remained\non Sadovaya. The investigation departed to continue its work elsewhere, the staff\nwas sent home, leaving only the watchmen, and the doors of the Variety were\nlocked.\n The bookkeeper Vassily Stepanovich had urgently to perform two tasks. First, to\ngo to the Commission on Spectacles and Entertainment of the Lighter Type with a\nreport on yesterday\u2019s events and, second, to visit the Finspectacle sector so as to\nturn over yesterday\u2019s receipts\u201421,711 roubles.\n The precise and efficient Vassily Stepanovich wrapped the money in newspaper,\ncriss-crossed it with string, put it in his briefcase, and, knowing his instructions\nvery well, set out, of course, not for a bus or a tram, but for the cab stand.\n The moment the drivers of the three cabs saw a passenger hurrying towards the\nstand with a tightly stuffed briefcase, all three left empty right under his nose,\nlooking back at him angrily for some reason.\n Struck by this circumstance, the bookkeeper stood like a post for a long time,\ntrying to grasp what it might mean.\n About three minutes later, an empty cab drove up, but the driver\u2019s face twisted\nthe moment he saw the passenger.\n \u2018Are you free?\u2019 Vassily Stepanovich asked with a cough of surprise.\n \u2018Show your money,\u2019 the driver replied angrily, without looking at the passenger.\n With increasing amazement, the bookkeeper, pressing the precious briefcase\nunder his arm, pulled a ten-rouble bill from his wallet and showed it to the driver.\n \u2018I won\u2019t go!\u2019 the man said curtly.\n \u2018I beg your pardon\u2026\u2019 the bookkeeper tried to begin, but the driver interrupted\nhim.\n \u2018Got any threes?\u2019\n The completely bewildered bookkeeper took two three-rouble bills from his\nwallet and showed them to the driver.\n \u2018Get in,\u2019 he shouted, and slapped down the flag of the meter so that he almost\nbroke it. \u2018Let\u2019s go!\u2019\n \u2018No change, is that it?\u2019 the bookkeeper asked timidly.\n \u2018A pocket full of change!\u2019 the driver bawled, and the eyes in the mirror went\nbloodshot. \u2018It\u2019s my third case today. And the same thing happened with the others,\ntoo. Some son of a bitch gives me a tenner, I give him change four-fifty. He gets\nout, the scum! About five minutes later, I look: instead of a tenner, it\u2019s a label from\na seltzer bottle!\u2019 Here the driver uttered several unprintable words. \u2018Another one,\nbeyond Zubovskaya. A tenner. I give him three roubles change. He leaves. I go to\nmy wallet, there\u2019s a bee there\u2014zap in the finger! Ah, you!\u2026\u2019 and again the driver\npasted on some unprintable words. \u2018And no tenner. Yesterday, in the Variety here\u2019\n(unprintable words), \u2019some vermin of a conjurer did a seance with ten-rouble bills\u2019\n(unprintable words)\u2026\n The bookkeeper went numb, shrank into himself, and pretended it was the first\ntime he had heard even the word \u2018Variety\u2019, while thinking to himself: \u2018Oh-oh!\u2026\u2019\n Having got where he had to go, having paid satisfactorily, the bookkeeper\nentered the building and went down the corridor towards the manager\u2019s office, and\nrealized on his way that he had come at the wrong time. Some sort of tumult\nreigned in the offices of the Spectacles Commission. A messenger girl ran past the\nbookkeeper, her kerchief all pushed back on her head and her eyes popping.\n \u2018Nothing, nothing, nothing, my dears!\u2019 she shouted, addressing no one knew\nwhom. \u2018The jacket and trousers are there, but inside the jacket there\u2019s nothing!\u2019\n She disappeared through some door, and straight away from behind it came the\nnoise of smashing dishes. The manager of the commission\u2019s first sector, whom the\nbookkeeper knew, ran out of the secretary\u2019s room, but he was in such a state that\nhe did not recognize the bookkeeper and disappeared without a trace.\n Shaken by all this, the bookkeeper reached the secretary\u2019s room, which was the\nanteroom to the office of the chairman of the commission, and here he was\ndefinitively dumbfounded.\n From behind the closed door of the office came a terrible voice, undoubtedly\nbelonging to Prokhor Petrovich, the chairman of the commission. \u2018Must be scolding\nsomebody!\u2019 the consternated bookkeeper thought and, looking around, saw\nsomething else: in a leather armchair, her head thrown back, sobbing\nunrestrainedly, a wet handkerchief in her hand, legs stretched out into the middle\nof the room, lay Prokhor Petrovich\u2019s personal secretary\u2014the beautiful Anna\nRichardovna.\n Anna Richardovna\u2019s chin was all smeared with lipstick, and down her peachy\ncheeks black streams of sodden mascara flowed from her eyelashes.\n Seeing someone come in, Anna Richardovna jumped up, rushed to the\nbookkeeper, clutched the lapels of his jacket, began shaking him and shouting:\n \u2018Thank God! At least one brave man has been found! Everybody ran away,\neverybody betrayed us! Let\u2019s go, let\u2019s go to him, I don\u2019t know what to do!\u2019 And, still\nsobbing, she dragged the bookkeeper into the office.\n Once in the office, the bookkeeper first of all dropped his briefcase, and all the\nthoughts in his head turned upside-down. And, it must be said, not without\nreason.\n At a huge writing desk with a massive inkstand an empty suit sat and with a\ndry pen, not dipped in ink, traced on a piece of paper. The suit was wearing a\nnecktie, a fountain pen stuck from its pocket, but above the collar there was\nneither neck nor head, just as there were no hands sticking out of the sleeves. The\nsuit was immersed in work and completely ignored the turmoil that reigned\naround it. Hearing someone come in, the suit leaned back and from above the\ncollar came the voice, quite familiar to the bookkeeper, of Prokhor Petrovich:\n \u2018What is this? Isn\u2019t it written on the door that I\u2019m not receiving?\u2019\n The beautiful secretary shrieked and, wringing her hands, cried out:\n \u2018You see? You see?! He\u2019s not there! He\u2019s not! Bring him back, bring him back!\u2019\n Here someone peeked in the door of the office, gasped, and flew out. The\nbookkeeper felt his legs trembling and sat on the edge of a chair, but did not forget\nto pick up his briefcase. Anna Richardovna hopped around the bookkeeper,\nworrying his jacket, and exclaiming:\n \u2018I always, always stopped him when he swore by the devil! So now the devil\u2019s got\nhim!\u2019 Here the beauty ran to the writing desk and in a tender, musical voice,\nslightly nasal from weeping, called out:\n \u2018Prosha! Where are you!\u2019\n \u2018Who here is \u201cProsha\u201d to you?\u2019 the suit inquired haughtily, sinking still deeper\ninto the armchair.\n \u2018He doesn\u2019t recognize me! Me he doesn\u2019t! Do you understand? ...\u2018 the secretary\nburst into sobs.\n \u2018I ask you not to sob in the office!\u2019 the hot-tempered striped suit now said\nangrily, and with its sleeve it drew to itself a fresh stack of papers, with the\nobvious aim of appending its decision to them.\n \u2018No, I can\u2019t look at it, I can\u2019t!\u2018 cried Anna Richardovna, and she ran out to the\nsecretary\u2019s room, and behind her, like a shot, flew the bookkeeper.\n \u2018Imagine, I\u2019m sitting here,\u2019 Anna Richardovna recounted, shaking with agitation,\nagain clutching at the bookkeeper\u2019s sleeve, \u2018and a cat walks in. Black, big as a\nbehemoth. Of course, I shout \u201cscat\u201d to it. Out it goes, and in comes a fat fellow\ninstead, also with a sort of cat-like mug, and says: \u201cWhat are you doing, citizeness,\nshouting \u2019scat\u2019 at visitors?\u201d And\u2014whoosh\u2014straight to Prokhor Petrovich. Of\ncourse, I run after him, shouting: \u201cAre you out of your mind?\u201d And this brazenface goes straight to Prokhor Petrovich and sits down opposite him in the\narmchair. Well, that one \u2026 he\u2019s the kindest-hearted man, but edgy. He blew up, I\ndon\u2019t deny it. An edgy man, works like an ox\u2014he blew up. \u201cWhy do you barge in\nhere unannounced?\u201d he says. And that brazen-face, imagine, sprawls in the\narmchair and says, smiling: \u201cI\u2019ve come,\u201d he says, \u201cto discuss a little business with\nyou.\u201d Prokhor Petrovich blew up again: \u201cI\u2019m busy.\u201d And the other one, just think,\nanswers: \u201cYou\u2019re not busy with anything\u2026\u201d Eh? Well, here, of course, Prokhor\nPetrovich\u2019s patience ran out, and he shouted: \u201cWhat is all this? Get him out of\nhere, devil take me!\u201d And that one, imagine, smiles and says: \u201cDevil take you?\nThat, in fact, can be done!\u201d And bang! Before I had time to scream, I look: the one\nwith the cat\u2019s mug is gone, and th \u2026 there \u2026 sits \u2026 the suit\u2026 Waaa!\u2026\u2018 Stretching\nher mouth, which had lost all shape entirely, Anna Richardovna howled.\n After choking with sobs, she caught her breath, but then began pouring out\nsomething completely incoherent:\n \u2018And it writes, writes, writes! You could lose your mind! Talks on the telephone!\nA suit! They all ran away like rabbits!\u2019\n The bookkeeper only stood and shook. But here fate came to his aid. Into the\nsecretary\u2019s room, with calm, business-like strides, marched the police, to the\nnumber of two men. Seeing them, the beauty sobbed still harder, jabbing towards\nthe door of the office with her hand.\n \u2018Let\u2019s not cry now, citizeness,\u2019 the first said calmly, and the bookkeeper, feeling\nhimself quite superfluous there, ran out of the secretary\u2019s room and a minute later\nwas already in the fresh air. There was some sort of draught in his head, a\nsoughing as in a chimney, and through this soughing he heard scraps of the\nstories the ushers told about yesterday\u2019s cat, who had taken part in the seance.\n\u2018Oh-ho-ho! Might that not be our same little puss?\u2019\n Having got nowhere with the commission, the conscientious Vassily Stepanovich\ndecided to visit its affiliate, located in Vagankovsky Lane, and to calm himself a\nlittle he walked the distance to the affiliate on foot.\n The affiliate for city spectacles was housed in a peeling old mansion set back\nfrom the street, and was famous for the porphyry columns in its vestibule. But it\nwas not the columns that struck visitors to the affiliate that day, but what was\ngoing on at the foot of them.\n Several visitors stood in stupefaction and stared at a weeping girl sitting behind\na small table on which lay special literature about various spectacles, which the\ngirl sold. At that moment, the girl was not offering any of this literature to anyone,\nand only waved her hand at sympathetic inquiries, while at the same time, from\nabove, from below, from the sides, and from all sections of the affiliate poured the\nringing of at least twenty overwrought telephones.\n After weeping for a while, the girl suddenly gave a start and cried out\nhysterically:\n \u2018Here it comes again!\u2019 and unexpectedly began singing in a tremulous soprano:\n \u2018Glorious sea, sacred Baikal\u2026\u2019\n A messenger appeared on the stairs, shook his fist at someone, and began\nsinging along with the girl in a dull, weak-voiced baritone:\n \u2018Glorious boat, a barrel of cisco\u2026\u2019\n The messenger\u2019s voice was joined by distant voices, the choir began to swell,\nand finally the song resounded in all comers of the affiliate. In the neighbouring\nroom no. 6, which housed the account comptroller\u2019s section, one powerful, slightly\nhusky octave stood out particularly.\n \u2018Hey, Barguzin \u2026 make the waves rise and fall!\u2026\u2019 bawled the messenger\non the stairs.\n Tears flowed down the girl\u2019s face, she tried to clench her teeth, but her mouth\nopened of itself, as she sang an octave higher than the messenger:\n \u2018This young lad\u2019s ready to frisk-o!\u2019\n What struck the silent visitors to the affiliate was that the choristers, scattered\nin various places, sang quite harmoniously, as if the whole choir stood there with\nits eyes fixed on some invisible director.\n Passers-by in Vagankovsky Lane stopped by the fence of the yard, wondering at\nthe gaiety that reigned in the affiliate.\n As soon as the first verse came to an end, the singing suddenly ceased, again as\nif to a director\u2019s baton. The messenger quietly swore and disappeared.\n Here the front door opened, and in it appeared a citizen in a summer jacket,\nfrom under which protruded the skirts of a white coat, and with him a policeman.\n \u2018Take measures, doctor, I implore you!\u2019 the girl cried hysterically.\n The secretary of the affiliate ran out to the stairs and, obviously burning with\nshame and embarrassment, began falteringly:\n \u2018You see, doctor, we have a case of some sort of mass hypnosis, and so it\u2019s\nnecessary that ...\u2019 He did not finish the sentence, began to choke on his words,\nand suddenly sang out in a tenor.\n \u2018Shilka and Nerchinsk\u2026\u2019\n \u2018Fool!\u2019 the girl had time to shout, but, without explaining who she was abusing,\nproduced instead a forced roulade and herself began singing about Shilka and\nNerchinsk.\n \u2018Get hold of yourself! Stop singing!\u2019 the doctor addressed the secretary.\n There was every indication that the secretary would himself have given anything\nto stop singing, but stop singing he could not, and together with the choir he\nbrought to the hearing of passers-by in the lane the news that \u2018in the wilderness\nhe was not touched by voracious beast, nor brought down by bullet of shooters.\u2019\n The moment the verse ended, the girl was the first to receive a dose of valerian\nfrom the doctor, who then ran after the secretary to give the others theirs.\n \u2018Excuse me, dear citizeness,\u2019 Vassily Stepanovich addressed the girl, \u2018did a black\ncat pay you a visit?\u2019\n \u2018What cat?\u2019 the girl cried in anger. \u2018An ass, it\u2019s an ass we\u2019ve got sitting in the\naffiliate!\u2019 And adding to that: \u2018Let him hear, I\u2019ll tell everything\u2019 she indeed told\nwhat had happened.\n It turned out that the manager of the city affiliate, \u2018who has made a perfect mess\nof lightened entertainment\u2019 (the girl\u2019s words), suffered from a mania for organizing\nall sorts of little clubs.\n \u2018Blew smoke in the authorities\u2019 eyes!\u2019 screamed the girl.\n In the course of a year this manager had succeeded in organizing a club of\nLermontov studies, of chess and checkers, of ping-pong, and of horseback\nriding. For the summer, he was threatening to organize clubs of fresh-water\ncanoeing and alpinism. And so today, during lunch-break, this manager comes\nin\u2026\n \u2018\u2026with some son of a bitch on his arm,\u2019 the girl went on, \u2018hailing from nobody\nknows where, in wretched checkered trousers, a cracked pince-nez, and \u2026 with a\ncompletely impossible mug!\u2026\u2019\n And straight away, the girl said, he recommended him to all those eating in the\naffiliate\u2019s dining room as a prominent specialist in organizing choral-singing clubs.\n The faces of the future alpinists darkened, but the manager immediately called\non everyone to cheer up, while the specialist joked a little, laughed a little, and\nswore an oath that singing takes no time at all, but that, incidentally, there was a\nwhole load of benefits to be derived from it.\n Well, of course, as the girl said, the first to pop up were Fanov and Kosarchuk,\nwell-known affiliate toadies, who announced that they would sign up. Here the\nrest of the staff realized that there was no way around the singing, and they, too,\nhad to sign up for the club. They decided to sing during the lunch break, since the\nrest of the time was taken up by Lermontov and checkers. The manager, to set an\nexample, declared that he was a tenor, and everything after that went as in a bad\ndream. The checkered specialist-choirmaster bawled out:\n \u2018Do, mi, sol, do!\u2019 dragged the most bashful from behind the bookcases, where\nthey had tried to save themselves from singing, told Kosarchuk he had perfect\npitch, began whining, squealing, begging them to be kind to an old singing-master,\ntapped the tuning fork on his knuckle, beseeched them to strike up \u2018Glorious Sea\u2019.\n Strike up they did. And gloriously. The checkered one really knew his business.\nThey finished the first verse. Here the director excused himself, said: \u2018Back in a\nminute\u2026\u2019, and disappeared. They thought he would actually come back in a\nminute. But ten minutes went by and he was not there. The staff was\noverjoyed he had run away!\n Then suddenly, somehow of themselves, they began the second verse. They were\nall led by Kosarchuk, who may not have had perfect pitch, but did have a rather\npleasant high tenor. They sang it through. No director! They moved to their places,\nbut had not managed to sit down whn, against their will, they began to sing. To\nstop was impossible. After three minutes of silence, they would strike up again.\nSilence\u2014strike up! Then they realized that they were in trouble. The manager\nlocked himself in his office from shame!\n Here the girl\u2019s story was interrupted\u2014the valerian had not done much good.\n A quarter of an hour later, three trucks drove up to the fence in Vagankovsky,\nand the entire staff of the affiliate, the manager at its head, was loaded on to them.\n As soon as the first truck, after lurching in the gateway, drove out into the lane,\nthe staff members, who were standing on the platform holding each other\u2019s\nshoulders, opened their mouths, and the whole lane resounded with the popular\nsong. The second truck picked it up, then the third. And so they drove on.\nPassers-by hurrying about their own business would cast only a fleeting glance at\nthe trucks, not surprised in the least, thinking it was a group excursion to the\ncountry. And they were indeed going to the country, though not on an excursion,\nbut to Professor Stravinsky\u2019s clinic.\n Half an hour later, the bookkeeper, who had lost his head completely, reached\nthe financial sector, hoping finally to get rid of the box-office money. Having\nlearned from experience by now, he first peeked cautiously into the oblong hall\nwhere, behind frosted-glass windows with gold lettering, the staff was sitting. Here\nthe bookkeeper discovered no signs of alarm or scandal. It was quiet, as it ought to\nbe in a decent institution.\n Vassily Stepanovich stuck his head through the window with \u2018Cash Deposits\u2019\nwritten over it, greeted some unfamiliar clerk, and politely asked for a deposit slip.\n \u2018What do you need it for?\u2019 the clerk in the window asked.\n The bookkeeper was amazed.\n \u2018I want to turn over some cash. I\u2019m from the Variety.\u2019\n \u2018One moment,\u2019 the clerk replied and instantly closed the opening in the window\nwith a grille.\n \u2018Strange!\u2026\u2019 thought the bookkeeper. His amazement was perfectly natural. It\nwas the first time in his life that he had met with such a circumstance. Everybody\nknows how hard it is to get money; obstacles to it can always be found. But there\nhad been no case in the bookkeeper\u2019s thirty years of experience when anyone,\neither an official or a private person, had had a hard time accepting money.\n But at last the little grille moved aside, and the bookkeeper again leaned to the\nwindow.\n \u2018Do you have a lot?\u2019 the clerk asked.\n \u2018Twenty-one thousand seven hundred and eleven roubles.\u2019\n \u2018Oho!\u2019 the clerk answered ironically for some reason and handed the bookkeeper\na green slip.\n Knowing the form well, the bookkeeper instantly filled it out and began to untie\nthe string on the bundle. When he unpacked his load, everything swam before his\neyes, he murmured something painfully.\n Foreign money flitted before his eyes: there were stacks of Canadian dollars,\nBritish pounds, Dutch guldens, Latvian lats, Estonian kroons\u2026\n \u2018There he is, one of those tricksters from the Variety!\u2019 a menacing voice\nresounded over the dumbstruck bookkeeper. And straight away Vassily\nStepanovich was arrested. \n\n",
        "ttl": 3600
      }
    ]
  }
}