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who the shameless Kiryushka might be and whether he was the owner of the nasty fur cap with dangling ear-flaps. In the deserted, cheerless alleyway Bezdomny looked round for the fugitive but there was no sign of him. Ivan said firmly to himself: Of course! Hes on the Moscow leather ottoman tray storage River! Come on! Somebody should of course have asked Ivan Nikolayich why he imagined the professor would be on the Moscow River of all places, but unfortunately there was no one to ask him--the nasty little alley was completely empty. In no time at all Ivan Nikolayich was to leather ottoman tray storage be seen on the granite steps of the Moscow lido. Taking off his clothes, Ivan entrusted them to a kindly old man with a beard, dressed in a torn white Russian blouse and patched, unlaced boots. Waving him aside, Ivan took a swallow-dive into the water. The water leather ottoman tray storage was so cold that it took his breath away and for a moment he even doubted whether he would reach the surface again. But reach it he did, and puffing and snorting, his eyes round with terror, Ivan Nikolayich began swimming in the black, oily-smelling water towards leather ottoman tray storage the shimmering zig-zags of the embankment lights reflected in the water. When Ivan clambered damply up the steps at the place where he had left his clothes in the care of the bearded man, not only his clothes but their venerable guardian had apparently been spirited away. On the very spot where the heap of clothes had been there was now a pair of check underpants, a torn Russian blouse, a candle, a paper ikon and a box of matches. Shaking his fist into space with impotent rage, Ivan clambered into what was left. As he did so two thoughts worried him. To begin with he had now lost his MASSOLIT membership card; normally he never went anywhere without it. Secondly it occurred to him that he might be arrested for walking around Moscow in this state. After all, he had practically nothing on but a pair of underpants. . . . Ivan tore the buttons off the long underpants where they were fastened at the ankles, in the hope that people might think they were a pair of lightweight summer trousers. He then picked up the ikon, the candle and matches and set off, saying to himself: I must go to Griboyedov! Hes bound to be there. Ivan Nikolayichs fears were completely justified--passers-by noticed him and turned round to stare, so he decided to leave the main streets and make Us way through the side-roads where people were not so inquisitive, where there was less chance of them stopping a barefoot man and badgering him with questions about his underpants--which obstinately refused to look like trousers. Ivan plunged into a maze of sidestreets round the Arbat and began to sidle along the walls, blinking fearfully, glancing leather ottoman tray storage round, occasionally hiding in doorways, avoiding crossroads with traffic lights and the elegant porticos of embassy mansions. 5. The Affair at Griboyedov It was an old two-storied house, painted cream, that stood on the ring boulevard behind a ragged garden, fenced off from the leather ottoman tray storage pavement by wrought-iron railings. In winter the paved front courtyard was usually full of shovelled snow, whilst in summer, shaded by a canvas awning, it became a delightful outdoor extension to the club restaurant. The house was called Griboyedov House because it might once have belonged to an aunt of the famous playwright Alexander Sergeyevich Griboyedov. Nobody really knows for sure whether she ever owned it or not. People even say that Griboyedov never had an aunt who owned any such property. leather ottoman tray storage . . . Still, that was its name. What is more, a dubious tale used to circulate in Moscow of how in the round, colonnaded salon on the second floor the famous writer had once read extracts from Woe From Wit to that same aunt as she reclined on leather ottoman tray storage a sofa. Perhaps he did ; in any case it doesnt matter. It matters much more that this house now belonged to MASSOLIT, which until his excursion to Patriarchs Ponds was headed by the unfortunate Mikhail Alexandrovich Berlioz. No one, least of all the members of MASSOLIT, leather ottoman tray storage called the place Griboyedov House . Everyone simply called it Griboyedov : I spent a couple of hours lobbying at Griboyedov yesterday. Well? Wangled myself a month in Yalta. Good for you! Or : Go to Berlioz--hes seeing people from four to five leather ottoman tray storage this afternoon at Griboyedov . . .--and so on. MASSOLIT had installed itself in Griboyedov very comfortably indeed. As you entered you were first confronted with a notice-board full of announcements by the various sports clubs, then with the photographs leather ottoman tray storage of every individual member of MASSOLIT, who were strung up (their photographs, of course) along the walls of the staircase leading to the first floor. On the door of the first room on the upper storey was a large notice : Angling and Weekend Cottages , with a picture of a carp caught leather ottoman tray storage