Chapter 27 Chapter 27: The End of House No. 50

Margaret was reading the manuscript of the novel.When she reached the end of a chapter—"This is how Pontius Pilate, the fifth governor of the Jews, ushered in the dawn of Nisan 15", the sky was already bright. On the branches of willow and linden trees outside the window, several waking sparrows were chirping and chatting, looking so happy and excited. Margaret stood up and stretched herself, only then did she feel exhausted and sleepy.But we should make it clear: her mental state is completely normal, and her thinking is not disordered at all.Nor was she surprised that she spent the night in some sort of supernatural setting.Recalling that he attended Satan's party, the master miraculously returned to him, the burnt manuscript of the novel was recovered from the ashes, the informer Aloigi Mogarich was driven out, the two basements in the alley Everything was back to how it was before—and she wasn't too thrilled.In short, her acquaintance with Woland did her no psychological damage.Everything seems to be in order.She went to the next room; Si saw that the master was still sleeping peacefully.She turned off the useless desk lamp, went to the couch with a torn sheet on the opposite wall, lay down on it, stretched her legs, and fell asleep in a minute, and she didn't have any dreams that morning Do.There was silence in the two basements.The entire small building of the landlord was silent.Even the street, the entire remote alley, was quiet.

Yet at this same moment, Saturday morning, in a certain Moscow office building, a whole floor of which had been up all night, was still brightly lit.Bunches of dazzling light shot out from the window, passed through the rising sun's rays, and complemented each other.Outside the window is a large asphalt-paved square①. Several special cleaning vehicles drive slowly around the field, and the large cleaning brushes under the vehicles make a uniform humming sound. ① Refers to Dzerzhinsky Square, the seat of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the Soviet Union. All ten offices on this floor were brightly lit all night: the people in each office were busy with the Wallander case.

In fact, this incident was filed for investigation yesterday (Friday) during the day.Because of the sudden disappearance of the leaders of the Vallett Theater and all kinds of absurdities caused by the magic show that caused a sensation in the city the night before, the theater had to be ordered to close yesterday.Here's the problem: Since then, there's been a steady stream of new developments in these all-night offices. In this strange case, there is not only a very obvious smell of ghosts, mixed with hypnotic tricks, but also obvious signs of criminal offenses.The current task is to study all kinds of intricate situations in different regions of Moscow as a whole.

The first person to be summoned to this brightly lit upper floor yesterday was Arkady Apollonovich Sepreyarov, director of the Acoustic Committee of the Moscow Theater Union. Sanpreyarov lives in an apartment building next to the stone bridge.He had just had lunch at home on Friday when the hall phone rang.The lady went to pick up the microphone: a man's voice called for Sanpreyarov himself.The madam answered with displeasure: Arkady Apollonovitch was not well, had been lying down, and could not answer the telephone.However, when she then asked where the other party was, the other party only said the name of the agency in three short words.Immediately the tone of the normally arrogant wife of the director changed completely, and she murmured in a flustered voice:

"Oh, please wait a second...go call right away...please wait a minute..." She put down the receiver and rushed into her husband's bedroom like an arrow leaving the string.Simpreyarov was lying on the bed at this time, immersed in memories: the theater performance last night, the jealousy at home that night, the distant niece who was forced to drive away from Saratov-all scenes made him feel sad. It hurts so much.Despite his displeasure, he had to get up to take the call. Of course, it was not a second later, but it was definitely not a minute later, but fifteen seconds later, the director of the acoustic committee was wearing only underwear, with a slipper on his left foot, and grabbed the phone receiver. Said vaguely to it:

"Ah, it's me... ok, ok..." At this moment, Mrs. Jing also forgot all the perfidious crimes of her unlucky husband who had been exposed in public, poked her head out from the door in shock, looked at the corridor, and whispered to her husband, shaking a slipper in her hand: "Put this shoe on! Put on the slippers! . . . The soles of your feet will catch cold!" How could Arkady Apollonovich have bothered to wear shoes!He shook his bare feet, gave his wife a hard look, and said into the earphone at the same time: "Yes, yes, yes, that goes without saying, I understand... I'll go right away."

Sanpreyarov stayed all night in the building where the detective work was carried out.The conversation he was having here was extremely unpleasant and embarrassing to him, for he had to explain not only the indecent magic show and the fight in the box, but also frankly and in detail on Yelokhov Street. The actress Milica Andreyevna, the distant niece from Saratov, and many others of that kind.While this was all asked in passing, he did have to make it clear.Arkady Apollonovitch, of course, suffered terribly from telling such things to others. It goes without saying that Sampryarov's testimony greatly advanced the investigation, since Arkady Apollonovich was, after all, a learned and educated witness and a Witness to an absurd show, and a sensible and well-trained man at that.Not only does he describe the mysterious masked magician himself, but also his two rogue assistants in an orderly manner.Not only that, he also clearly remembered that the magician's last name was Wallander.In addition, some of the women who were killed after the performance (there were many besides the one in lavender drawers who stunned Rimsky, woohoo!) were also arraigned.Karpov, the correspondent sent to No. 50 Garden Street, was also summoned when he returned.Comparing the testimony of these many people with the testimony of Sanprearov, it is easy to determine where to look for the culprit of all these events.

Investigators visited House No. 50 more than once, searched carefully, knocked on all walls, fireplaces, and flues, checked, and searched for secret rooms.But all efforts were in vain, and no one was ever found, although there were many indications that the place was undoubtedly inhabited.On the other hand, everyone who had some relationship with the foreign actor who entered Moscow at work has been interrogated, and they have all unanimously and categorically proved that there was no magician named Woland in Moscow, and there could be no one. Such a person. This so-called foreign magician has never been registered with any authority since he arrived in Moscow, and has never shown anyone a passport or other documents, contracts, contracts, etc. No one has ever heard of such a person!Kitetsev, head of the program section of the Committee for Popular Entertainment, swore that Stepan Likhodeyev, the manager of the now missing Valet Theater, had never sent him any program for Wallander's performances. Nor did he call at all to say that some magician had come to Moscow; therefore, Kitetsev knew nothing and could not understand how Likhodeyev could have put on this show at the Valet Theater. .People told him: Priyarov saw this magician with his own eyes during the performance.Kitetsev just rolled his eyes upwards and spread his hands helplessly.It was evident from Kitetsev's eyes, and it could be believed, that he was not at fault.

So what does the head of the Committee for Popular Entertainment Prohor Petrovich himself say? ... Let me explain here by the way: as soon as the police entered the director's office, the director immediately returned to his clothes.Seeing this, Anna Richardovna, the secretary of the "big beauty", seemed to be overjoyed, but the policemen who came here in vain seemed to be in a fog.It should also be noted in passing that the Director, back at his desk, slipping into his striped gray suit, gave full approval to the few documents he had reviewed in his empty suit during his temporary absence.

... Director Prohor Petrovich himself insisted that he did not know Woland at all. Look, believe it or not, it's ridiculous!Thousands of spectators, all the members of the Valet Theater, plus the most learned Sempryarov, have all seen the foreign magician and his damned assistants, but now But he was nowhere to be found.May I ask: Did he get into a crack in the ground after the performance?Or had he not come to Moscow at all?In the former case, it means that when he crawled into the ground, he undoubtedly took some leading figures of the Vallett Theater with him.If the latter assumption is adopted, wouldn't it mean that several leading members of the unfortunate theater deliberately created a prank, and then slipped away from Moscow? (We can also recall the broken glass windows in the office and the behavior of Cube Ace, the police dog!)

It should be fair to those responsible for the investigation of this case: they did find the missing Rimsky, and the speed was astonishing.In fact, one only needs to compare the behavior of "Square Ace" at the taxi stand next to the movie theater with a few specific times (for example, the time when the show ends, the time when Rimsky may leave the theater), and one can be confident that A telegram has been sent to Leningrad.An hour later (Friday evening) I received a call back from Leningrad: It has been found out that Rimsky is currently staying at No. 412 on the fourth floor of the "Astoria" hotel in Leningrad, and that the passenger in the room next to him is in the city. Director of the repertoire of a touring theater in Moscow.Rimsky's room is also known to have grey-blue gilded furniture and a well-appointed bathroom. After Rimsky was found hiding in the No. 412 locker of the "Astoria" hotel, he was arrested immediately and interrogated on the spot.Not long after, Moscow received another telegram saying that Rimsky, the treasurer of the Valet Theater, was in a state of insanity, unable or unwilling to give clear answers to the interrogated questions, and just blindly begged him to be locked up in an armored prison. The cell was guarded by armed men.Moscow immediately telegraphed Leningrad: Immediately send personnel to escort Rimsky.So, on Friday night, Rimsky left Leningrad by night train under the escort of armed men. The whereabouts of Likhodeyev were also found on Friday evening.Shortly after sending a call to look for Likhodeyev to all the cities in the country, Yalta called back saying: Likhodeyev had stayed in Yalta and had now flown back to Moscow. Only Varenuha is still missing.The administrator of the Valet Theater, well known in all Moscow, seemed to have disappeared. In addition to the Vallett theater problem, the investigative agencies had to ascertain various simultaneous problems elsewhere in Moscow.Got to figure out how the agency staff sang "Shining Seas of Oddity" in unison (by the way: after Prof. Stravinsky gave those guys a hypodermic injection, they were back to normal within two hours); had to deal with all kinds of Crap is paid as money to individuals or institutions, as well as to the victims of these acts. Of course, the worst, most unpleasant, and most inexplicable of all these events was the disappearance of heads: in broad daylight, in the hall of the "Griboyedov House", the late writer Berlioz His head disappeared from the coffin. The twelve people who undertook the investigation of this case tried their best to collect evidence and clues of this complicated case bit by bit in every corner of Moscow. An investigator arrives at Professor Stravinsky's hospital.He first asked to provide him with a list of patients admitted to the hospital in the past three days.In this way, he discovered Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoi, the director of the Housing Management Office, and the unfortunate announcer, Mengalski, whose head had been torn off.He did not spend much time with them, however, because it was now easy to determine that both were victims of the criminal activities of a gang headed by the mystic magician.But the homeless poet Ivan Nikolaevich, who lived here, greatly interested the investigators. On Friday evening, the door of Ivan's ward No. 117 opened slightly, and a young man with a round face walked in.The man's demeanor was serene and his speech elegant, and he did not look like an investigator at all.In fact, he happened to be one of Moscow's best scouts.He saw: a pale, thin young man lying on the bed, looking at a distant place, and seemed to be looking into the depths of his own soul.That look showed that he was aloof from his surroundings and had no interest in anything around him. The investigator first introduced himself politely, and then explained the purpose of his visit: he hoped to chat with Ivan Nikolayevich about what happened on the Patriarch Lake the day before yesterday. what!How glad Ivan would have been if the scout had come to him earlier, even in the early hours of Thursday!Ivan was expecting with frenzied enthusiasm that someone would listen carefully to his account of the events at Patriarch Lake.Now, it seems that his wish to help arrest foreign consultants has been fulfilled. There is no need for him to appeal for it anymore. Someone has already come to him to find out about the incident on Wednesday evening. But, alas, Ivan was very different now: in the period following Berlioz's tragic accident, the young Ivan was a completely different person.He was undoubtedly still willing to answer politely and earnestly all the questions raised by the investigators, but his eyes and tone made one feel a kind of indifference. The heart of the poet. Young Ivan was lying in bed before the scouts arrived.In the twilight, half-sleep, he seemed to see a strange, unique, ethereal city.There are grotesque marbles, sudden stone columns, roofs shining in the sun, and the eerie black tower of St. Anthony.On the hill in the west of the city, in a lush tropical garden, the roof of a palace is faintly exposed. Under the setting sun, some tall bronze statues look like huge burning pillars of fire in the green ocean.Ivan also saw several teams of Roman cavalry in full body armor slowly advancing at the foot of the walls of this ancient city. In a daze, Ivan also saw a clean-shaven man with a troubled look on his yellow face and a blood-red lining in a white cloak, sitting numbly in an easy chair; He was staring at the lush and exotic garden in front of him with disgust.Ivan also saw a bare yellow hill, on which there stood several crosses that had disappeared... As for the incident at Patriarch Lake, Ivan the poet is no longer interested in it. "Excuse me, Ivan Nikolayevich, where were you when Berlioz slipped under the tram? Was it far from the turnstile?" Ivan seemed indifferent to this, and for some reason there was a sneer on the corner of his mouth.He replied: "I'm far away." "Is that guy in the checkered shirt by the turnstile?" "No, he's sitting on a bench not far from me." "Didn't that man run towards the turnstile when Berlioz slipped and fell? Do you remember that?" "I remember. He didn't go there. He was lounging in a chair with his legs outstretched." These were the last few questions the investigators asked.The scout then stood up, held out his hand to say goodbye to Ivan, wished him a speedy recovery, and expressed the hope of being able to read his poems again in the near future. "No," Ivan replied softly, "I don't write poetry anymore." The scout smiled politely and said that he did not take the liberty of expressing his confidence: he believed that the poet said this because he was still in a state of depression which would soon disappear. "No," Ivan retorted immediately.Instead of looking at the scout's face, he looked into the distance, at the fading sky, and said, "It will never go away on me. All the poems I wrote were bad poems, and I realize now That's it." The scout bid farewell to the poet, who had obtained important material.He reasoned forward from the end of the incident, and finally found the origin of various incidents.He is now convinced that all events arose from the murder at Patriarch Lake.Of course, neither Ivan nor the guy in the checkered clothes pushed the unfortunate chairman of the "Mo Wenlian" under the tram, that is to say, on the surface, no one pushed him, but the investigators firmly believed that Bo Lioz sprinted (or slid) under the trolleybus wheels under a sort of hypnosis. Yes, a lot of materials have been collected, and it is very clear where to go and who to arrest.However, the difficulty is that it is impossible to catch that guy at all.In that damned, triple damned house No. 50, I repeat, was undoubtedly inhabited.The phone there is often answered, and the answering voice sometimes creaks like a broken gong, and sometimes it sounds like an urn.The windows were also opened and closed from time to time, and the sound of a gramophone was heard coming from inside.However, every time I entered the apartment, there was no one there.During the day and night, at different times, I have entered more than once, and even dragged the net to sweep through each room several times, but still found nothing.Surveillance posts had already been set up around the house, not only on the road from the gate through the yard to the entrance of the unit, but also at the back door, and a surveillance post was set up next to the chimney on the roof.Yes, there was something odd about House No. 50, but there was nothing you could do about it. In this way, things dragged on until late Friday night and early Saturday morning, until Baron McGuire, dressed in evening dress and patent leather shoes, stepped solemnly through the gate of No. 50 as a guest.The watchman heard the opening of the door and the entry of Baron McGuire.A full ten minutes later, several people broke into the house without ringing the doorbell.However, not only has the owner not been found here, but also the most incomprehensible thing—even Baron McGill has disappeared. So, as has been said, the matter dragged on until the early hours of Saturday morning.At this point some very interesting new developments arose.A six-seat passenger plane from Crimea landed at Moscow Airport. Among the passengers disembarked was a young man who was unusual: he was unshaven, hadn’t washed his face for three days, his eyes were red and swollen, and he looked flustered. He didn't bring any personal belongings, and he was dressed very strangely—wearing a Caucasian fur top hat, single pajamas, a thick woolen cloak, and a pair of brand new blue leather slippers for the bedroom, obviously just bought of.As soon as he left the gangway, several people walked towards him—they had been waiting for this citizen at the airport for a long time.In a few moments, Stepan Bogdanovich Likhodeyev, the memorable manager of the Valet Theater, stood before the scouts.He provided some new material.It is now clear that Woland first hypnotized Styopa Likhodeyev, then disguised himself as an actor, sneaked into the Valet Theater, and skillfully threw Styopa out of Moscow—God knows what happened. How many kilometers can be thrown with one throw.The materials were supplemented, but not only did the detection work not progress, it could even be said that it became more difficult: since Woland had the means to do that to Likhodeyev, obviously it would not be easy surrender.As for Likhodeyev, at his own request, he was put in a safer cell.Meanwhile, Varenukha was brought into the interrogation room.Varenukha's whereabouts were unknown for almost two days and nights, and he was arrested and brought to justice as soon as he returned home. Although Varenukha had assured Azazelle that he would not lie again, the General Affairs Assistant started his conversation with the investigator with a lie.However, there is no need to blame him too much, because Azazeller forbids him to lie on the phone, and at this moment they are talking face to face, without the help of this modern equipment.Valenuha, looking around furtively, told the investigators that on Thursday he had been drinking himself in his office at the Vallett Theater during the day, and had left the theater after getting quite drunk.Where did you go?do not remember.Later, he drank some old wine somewhere.Where did you drink it?do not remember.Then he crouched under a wall.where?Don't remember either.Then, the investigators told our General Affairs Assistant that his stupid and reckless behavior actually hindered the detection of an important case, and he was of course legally responsible for it.It was only after this warning that Varenukha, weeping bitterly, looked around in a trembling voice, and told the truth.He confessed that he was lying because he was afraid of reprisals from Wallander's gang, to whom he had already fallen once.He therefore begged that he should be put in an armored cell, which he said was his heartfelt plea and request. "Bah! Damn you! Why are you guys sure about entering the armored cell?!" an investigator muttered. "The rascals are terrified," said the investigator who interviewed Ivan the poet. The investigators tried to comfort Varenukha as much as they could, telling him that even if he did not enter any cell, he was under protection.Only then did it become clear that Varenukha hadn't been drinking old wine under some wall, but had been beaten by two people, one with a long fang and the other a short fat man... … "Ah! Looks a bit like a cat?" "Yes, yes, yes!" the General Affairs Assistant whispered.Only then did he look back in horror, and explained the details of what happened later: he stayed in the No. 50 residence for nearly two days, and even acted as a vampire's eyeliner, almost scaring the financial assistant Rimsky to death... At this time, Rimsky, who had just been escorted by train from Leningrad, was brought into the interrogation room.However, it is difficult to see the shadow of the shrewd and capable financial assistant from this gray-haired and depressed old man.He was trembling with fright and refused to tell the truth anyway.In this sense, he appears extremely stubborn.Rimsky insisted that he never saw Helle on the window sill of his office at all that night, nor did he see Varenukha without a shadow, but because he felt unwell, he took the flight to Lenin in a trance. Grad train.Needless to say, the Finance Assistant's testimony again ended with a request to be placed in an armored cell. Annushka was arrested on the spot when she handed a ten-dollar bill to a cashier at the Arbat Avenue department store.She said that she saw a few people flying out of the window in the building on Huayuan Avenue, and she also mentioned that she carried a golden horseshoe, which she originally planned to pick up and hand over to the police station.People listened carefully to her testimony. "Is that horseshoe really gold? There are many diamonds on it?" the scout asked Annushka. "Can I still recognize diamonds?!" Annushka replied. "But, according to what you said, the man gave you ten-rouble Soviet notes?" "Can I read ten-rouble notes?!" answered Annushka. "So, when did these bills become dollar bills?" "I don't know what a dollar bill is, and I've never seen a dollar bill," Annushka said sharply. "I have the right to the money, and I'm being offered reward money! I'm using it to buy flowers." Cloth..." Then she began to talk nonsense, saying that the housing management office let the devil live in the five-story building, which disturbed the neighbors, and she couldn't be responsible for these things, and so on. Annushka's nagging was really annoying, so the investigator waved to her with a pen, and then gave her a green pass.Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when Annushka left the building. Many others came in afterward, among them Nikolai Ivanovich.He had only just entered the police station entirely because of the stupidity of his jealous wife: his wife reported to the authorities this morning that her husband was missing.The investigators were not surprised by the demonic papers presented by Nikolai Ivanovich - proving that he had attended Satan's party during this period.About him transporting Margaret's maid, naked Natasha, in the air, and transporting her to a very distant river to take a bath, and before that, Margaret sat naked on the second floor window sill, etc. Nikolai Ivanovich's account of the situation was somewhat different from the truth.For example, he didn't think it necessary to mention the details of running into Marguerite's bedroom with the shirt she had dropped, or the fact that he had called Natasha Venus.According to what he said, it seemed that Natasha suddenly flew out of the window, straddled him, and flew out of Moscow by riding him... "I was under violence and had to submit," said Nikolai Ivanovic.He concluded his nonsense with a request to the authorities: never tell his wife about it.The authorities granted his request. According to the testimony of Nikolai Ivanovich, it is certain that both Margarita Nikolaevna and her maid Natasha have apparently disappeared.Therefore, search measures were taken immediately. People ushered in Saturday morning in this intense detection work against every second.At this time, false and completely unbelievable rumors were rapidly spreading throughout Moscow, exaggerating the slightest truth to an incalculable degree.It was said that after the closing of the Valette Theater, two thousand spectators of both sexes came out as naked as at birth; But the police station found them all right away... In short, some dismissive words like this. After noon in the hectic, it's time to eat lunch.At this time, the phone of the investigation department rang.The sentinels on Garden Street reported that there were signs of habitation again in the hideous house: the windows were opened several times from inside, the sound of pianos and singing were heard from inside, and a big black cat was seen squatting. Basking in the sun on the windowsill. The sun was warming the street.At about three o'clock, three cars stopped not far from Building B of No. 302, and a large number of men in plain clothes came down.After these people got out of the car, they divided into two groups. One group entered the main gate, went through the yard and went straight to the sixth gate, and the other group opened the small door that was usually killed, and rushed to the back door of the sixth gate.The two groups of people quickly rushed to No. 50 along different stairs at the same time. At this time, Karloviev and Azazeller were eating the last bites of breakfast in the dining room.Karloviev wore only his usual clothes, not his festive tuxedo.Wallander remained in the bedroom as usual.As for where the black cat is, no one knows.However, judging by the sound of the cooking pot coming from the kitchen, it must be messing around again. "Listen, what's the sound on the stairs?" Karloviev gently stirred the coffee without milk in the cup with a small spoon. "Ah, they are here to arrest us," Azazeller said, drinking the brandy from the small glass. "Oh, look at this," Karloviev said. The people who came up from the front had already reached the landing on the third floor, where two people who looked like plumbers were fiddling with radiators.The person who came up exchanged meaningful glances with the "plumber". "It's all at home," said one of the plumbers, tapping the heating pipes with a small hammer. So, the person walking in the front undisguisedly pulled out a dark musket from his coat, and the person next to him took out the master key.All in all, those who arrive at No. 50 are well-equipped.Two of them had in their pockets an extremely easy-to-spread net made of fine silk rope, one had a noose, and the third had a gauze gas mask and chloroform injections. ①Chloroform, that is, chloroform, or translated as "Colovan", was an anesthetic commonly used in those days. The door of No. 50 opened in less than a second, and a group of people who went upstairs from the front all broke into the front room.At this moment there was the sound of the door closing in the kitchen, indicating that the second group of men from behind had also arrived in time. Although he didn't win a big victory this time, it was a worthwhile trip.People quickly dispersed into various rooms to check, and although no one was found, they found what was obviously left over from breakfast in the kitchen, and a large black dog was seen next to a large stained glass vase on the top of the living room fireplace. The cat was squatting, holding a gasoline stove in its front paws. Everyone who entered the living room stared at the cat and watched it silently for a long time. "Hmm... It's really interesting!" Someone finally whispered something. "I'm not being naughty, I'm not messing with anyone, I'm fixing a gasoline stove!" the black cat said, frowning unfriendlyly, "Besides, I'm obliged to remind you: cats are an ancient , an animal that has never been violated." "Look at this move, it's really beautiful." Someone muttered again.while another clearly exclaimed: "Okay, Inviolable Talking Cat, come here!" At this moment, the silk screen flew away with a bang.However, everyone was surprised that the net caster didn't catch the target, but just stayed with the big glass bottle next to the black cat, pulled it down and smashed it to pieces. "Punishment!" the black cat shouted triumphantly, "Hurrah!" Then it put the gasoline stove beside it, drew a Browning pistol from its back, and quickly aimed at the person closest to it, but the man's hand The Mauser burst into flames earlier than Black Cat's.With a thump, the black cat fell headfirst from the fireplace-roof to the ground, jettisoning its Browning and taking the petrol stove with it. ① card game terms.Penalized for not scoring enough points. "It's all over," the black cat said weakly, stretching its legs limply, lying in a pool of blood, "you stay away from me, let me bid farewell to the earth! Oh, Azazelle, my friend!" The cat was bleeding and moaning, "Where are you?" The black cat raised its dull eyes and looked at the small door of the dining room and said, "I am outnumbered here, but you don't come to help me, you just want to drink. I You know, that brandy is fine, but you shouldn't leave my poor hippopotamus alone! Well, let me die, let your conscience be condemned! But before I die, I will take this berry Ronning leaves it to you..." "Cast the net! Cast the net! The net!" People around the black cat urged in low voices anxiously.But somehow the net got caught in the pocket of the net taker, and he couldn't get it out no matter what. "There's only one way to save a mortally wounded tomcat," the black cat said to himself, "and that's to take a sip of gasoline..." So it took advantage of people's panic and crawled over, pointing its mouth at the gasoline stove Yuan Ri took a gulp of petrol.Its left front paw immediately stopped bleeding.It sprang up from the ground, refreshed, held the gasoline stove under its arm, and jumped onto the top of the fireplace with a leap.From there, it tore the wallpaper and climbed up the wall. Two seconds later, it was already perched on the metal eaves on the top of the window, looking down at all the people who came. Immediately someone's two hands grabbed the window curtain and tore it off together with the cornice, and the bright sunlight suddenly poured into the dim room.However, neither the magically cured black cat nor its gasoline stove fell down—it turned out that the black cat had already jumped from mid-air to the chandelier in the center of the ceiling with the gasoline stove in its arms. "Take the stepladder!" Someone shouted from below. "I demand a duel with you!" cried the black cat, swinging back and forth on the chandelier above the people.By this time he had placed the petrol burner between the two lamp-sticks, and had another Browning in his hand.The black cat swung like a pendulum above people's heads, aiming and firing at the people below.Suddenly gunshots erupted, shaking the entire house.The fragments of the broken glass chandelier were scattered, the large mirror on the top of the fireplace cracked holes like stars, the wall dust fell in pieces, the room was full of dust, empty bullet casings danced on the floor, and the window panes were broken. The blocks shattered, and the bullet-pierced gasoline stove began to spew gasoline.Now there is no question of capturing the black cat alive, so all the muzzles of the Mausers were aimed at its head, chest, abdomen, and back, and beat it fiercely.The fierce gun battle caused chaos in the compound outside the building. But the shootout didn't last long, and it died down slowly and naturally.Here's the thing: The shootout did no harm to either Black Cat or those who came to arrest him.Not only was no one killed, but no one was injured.Everyone, including Black Cat, seems to be invulnerable.One of the men who came, wishing to double-check the situation, shot the damned brute five times in the head, and the black cat responded with tact.The result was the same: neither side was injured.黑猫仍然蹲在大吊灯上晃来晃去，只是晃动的幅度越来越小了，同时它还不时地往勃朗宁枪口里吹气，或者往爪子上吐口唾沫。站在下面默默不语的人们脸上渐渐现出莫名其妙的神情。射击完全无效——这可是从未有过的情况，或者说是极为罕见的一次。当然，完全可以假定黑猫用的勃朗宁不过是一种玩具，但是民警局来的人手里那些毛瑟枪可不是玩具。现在清楚了：黑猫的第一次受伤，毫无疑问，也是这个无耻的东西变的戏法，是它装蒜，喝汽油也一样。 又作了一次捉拿黑猫的尝试——抛出了套马索。但套马索挂在大吊灯上，把整个大吊灯拉了下来。它落地的响声震动了全楼，对黑猫却毫无影响。吊灯的玻璃碎片溅起来，雨点似地落在人们身上，而黑猫这时却从空中飞到壁炉上面的镀金镜框上部，高高地蹲在天花板下面了。看来它并不打算逃跑，恰恰相反，现在它自恃处境安全，反而发起议论来了。 “我完全无法理解，”它从高处俯视着下面的人说，“你们究竟为什么对我这样不客气？……” 黑猫刚要说下去，有一个不知从何处传来的沉闷的男低音打断了它的话，只听那声音说： “这里出了什么事？妨碍我工作！” 另一个鼻音很重的难听的声音回答说： “唉，当然又是河马，让他见鬼去！” 又有一个破锣般的声音说： “主公！今天星期六。大阳已经西沉。咱们该走了。” “请原谅，我不能再同你们聊天了，”蹲在镜框上的黑猫说，“我们该走了。”它把勃朗宁手枪往外一甩，同时打碎了两块玻璃，然后便拿着汽油炉往下面洒汽油，地板上的汽油自动燃烧起来，火焰顿时冲向天花板。 这火烧得又快又猛，异乎寻常。即使在浇了汽油的情况下按理也不会烧得这么猛。四面的糊墙纸马上冒起烟来，扯掉在地上的窗帷烧着了，打碎玻璃的窗框也在阴燃。黑猫躬着身子喵了一声，从镜框上一跃跳到窗台上，随即抱着汽油炉消失在窗外。窗外立即响起枪声：这枪是一个坐在救火车的铁云梯上的人打的，他在窗外，处于珠宝商遗漏故居窗户的同一高度上。他看到大黑猫从一个窗台跳到另一个窗台，奔向这座“n”字形大楼拐角处的泄水管道，便向它开了枪。但这时黑猫已经顺着管道爬上屋顶了。 屋顶上又有人对它进行狙击，原来屋顶的烟筒旁也有人守候着。但是，一切都毫无结果，黑猫迎着洒向莫斯科城的夕阳斜晖跑去，消失得无影无踪了。 这时在第50号住宅内部，搜捕人员脚下的镶木地板已经烧起来。在一片火焰中，在刚才黑猫假装负伤躺倒的地方，人们越来越清楚地看到地上躺着一个人。那便是麦格尔男爵的尸体，他的下巴向上翘着，眼睛像两个玻璃球。现在已经无法把他从火里拉出来了。客厅里的人们在燃烧的地板木块之间跳跃着，两手拍打着冒烟的前胸和两肩，先退到书房，又退到前室。餐室和卧室里的人也纷纷通过走廊跑出来，守在厨房的人也一齐奔向前室。客厅里烟火弥漫。不知是谁往外退时及时地拨了消防队的电话号码，对着话筒简短地喊了一句： “花园大街，302号乙楼！” 无法继续呆下去了，火舌已经舔到前室，人们感到呼吸困难。 这所魔宅的破窗户里刚刚冒出几缕黑烟，院子里已经有人在疯狂地叫喊： “着火了！着火了！着火了！” 大楼住户纷纷对着电话喊叫： “花园大街！花园大街！302号乙楼！” 长长的红色消防车从莫斯科各个地区疾驶而来。当花园大街上听到那惊心动魂的警铃声时，楼前大院里胡乱奔跑的人们看到：从五层楼的窗户里有几个人影随着浓烟飞了出来。人们觉得其中三个是黑色的男人身影，还有一个似乎是裸体的女人。