CHAPTER VII.

THE UNACCOUNTABLE CONDUCT OF PROFESSOR DE WORMS “Sit down!” said Sunday in a voice that he used once or twice in his life, a voice that made men drop drawn swords. The three who had risen fell away from Gogol, and that equivocal person himself resumed his seat. “Well, my man,” said the President briskly, addressing him as one addresses a total stranger, “will you oblige me by putting your hand in your upper waistcoat pocket and showing me what you have there?” The alleged Pole was a little pale under his tangle of …