His face was adorned with a strong, bushy, martial moustache. He
wore dark blue pince-nez on his nose, on his hands straw-coloured
gloves. In his left hand he held a black walking-stick with a silver
mount, in his right a light blue handkerchief.
The other six produced a strange, chaotic, incongruous impression,
exactly as though they had all hastily pooled not merely their
clothes, but their hands, feet and heads as well. There was a man with
the splendid profile of a Roman senator, dressed in rags and tatters.
Another wore an elegant dress waistcoat, from the deep opening of
which a dirty Little-Russian shirt leapt to the eye. Here were the
unbalanced faces of the criminal type, but looking with a confidence
that nothing could shake. All these men, in spite of their apparent
youth, evidently possessed a large experience of life, an easy manner,
a bold approach, and some hidden, suspicious cunning.
The gentleman in the sandy suit bowed just his head, neatly and
easily, and said with a half-question in his voice: "Mr. Chairman?"
"Yes. I am the chairman. What is your business?"
"We--all whom you see before you," the gentleman began in a quiet
voice and turned round to indicate his companions, "we come as
delegates from the United Rostov-Kharkov-and-Odessa-Nikolayev
Association of Thieves.
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