“They brought me a note from Sema—well, forgive me, from your Semyon Pavlovich. He’s in the B.K.H.—you understand? The police took him. They arrested him. He asks you to gather all the most valuable things in the house and take them to someone. Or else soon someone will come to you with a search and take everything.”
The word “search” suddenly made Vera feel very cold, even though it was hard to breathe from the heat in the apartment. She tried to pull her robe tighter; her hands wouldn’t quite obey. Something like this Vera Petrovna had been expecting for a long time—since the day her husband was appointed director of a furniture factory and they began to live in enough— as, in fact, a cultured woman with her current status ought to live. First it was scary, but then Vera Petrovna got used to it. She almost convinced herself that she lived on honest, hard-earned money from her clever husband…