Schmidt did not realise how late it was, when, abandoning his search for
his employer, he turned towards the police-station in the hope of still
rendering some assistance to his friend. He could not gain admittance to
the presence of the officer in charge, however, and was obliged to content
himself with the assurance that the Count had been treated "with
consideration," as the phrase was, and that there would be plenty of time
for talking in the morning. The policemen in the guard-room were sleepy
and not disposed to enter into conversation. Schmidt turned his steps in
the direction of the tobacconist's house for the second time, in sheer
despair. But he found the street door shut and the whole house was dark.
Nevertheless, he pulled the little handle upon which, by the aid of a
flickering match, he discovered a figure of three, corresponding to the
floor occupied by Fischelowitz. Again and again he tugged vigorously at
the brass knob until he could hear the bell tinkling far above. No other
sound followed, however, in the silence of the night, though he strained
his ears for the faintest echo of a distant footfall and the slightest
noise indicating that a window or a door was about to be opened. He
wondered whether Fischelowitz had come home. If he had, Akulina had surely
told him the story of the evening, and he would have been heard of at the
police-station, for it was incredible that he should let the night pass
without making an effort to liberate the Count.
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