'Ah, yes!' said Sipyagin aloud. 'Merci de me l'avoir rappelé. I must lay the following fact before your Excellency,' he said, turning to the governor.. . . (He used this formal address to his dear Voldemar intentionally, not to compromise the prestige of authority before a revolutionist.) 'I have good grounds for supposing that my beau-frère's mad attempt has certain ramifications; and that one of those branches, that is, one of the suspected persons, is at no great distance from this town. Send,' he added, in an undertone, 'for the man . . . there, in your drawing-room. . . . I brought him with me.'
The governor glanced at Sipyagin, thought with reverence, 'What a fellow!' and gave the necessary order. A minute later, the 'servant of God,' Sila Paklin, stood before him.
Sila Paklin was beginning to make a low bow to the governor; but catching sight of Markelov he did not complete his salutation—he remained as he was, bent in half, twisting his cap about in his hands. Markelov cast a heedless glance in his direction, but can hardly have recognised him; for he sank again into thought.
'Is this—the branch?' queried the governor, pointing at Paklin with a large white finger adorned with a turquoise.
'Oh, no!' responded Sipyagin with a half-
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