Gradually the platform cleared.  The hotel runners marched off in triumph with their victims, and express drivers and cab men drove off with their fares, and only a scattering few were left behind.  At one end of the platform stood two men in sheepskin coats and caps.  The stranger slowly moved toward them.  As he drew near, the men glanced at first carelessly, then more earnestly at him.  For a few moments he stood gazing down the street, then said, as if to himself, in the Russian tongue, “The wind blows from the north to-night.”

Instantly the men came to rigid attention.

“And the snow lies deep,” replied one, raising his hand in salute.

“But spring will come, brother,” replied the stranger.

One of the men came quickly toward him, took his hand and kissed it.

“Fool!” said the stranger, drawing away his hand, and sweeping his sharp glance round the platform.  “The bear that hunts in the open is himself soon hunted.”

“Ha, ha,” laughed the other man loudly, “in this country there is no hunting, brother.”

“Fool!” said the stranger again in a low, stern voice.  “Where game is, there is always hunting.”

“How can we serve?  What does my brother wish?” replied the man.

“I wish the house of Paulina Koval.  Do you know where it is?”

“Yes, we know, but—­” the men hesitated, looking at each other.

“There is no place for our brother in Paulina Koval’s house,” said the one who had spoken first.  “Paulina has no room.  Her house is full with her children and with many boarders.”

“Indeed,” said the stranger, “and how many?”

“Well,” replied the other, counting upon his fingers, “there is Paulina and her three children, and—­”

“Two children,” corrected the stranger sharply.

“No, three children.  Yes, three.”  He paused in his enumeration as if struck by a belated thought.  “It is three children, Joseph?” he proceeded, turning to his friend.

Joseph confirmed his memory.  “Yes, Simon, three; the girl, the boy and the baby.”

The stranger was clearly perplexed and disturbed.

“Go on,” he said curtly.

“There is Paulina and the three children, and Rosenblatt, and—­”

“Rosenblatt!” The word shot from the stranger’s lips with the vehemence of a bullet from a rifle.  “Rosenblatt in her house!  S-s-s-o-o-o!” He thrust his face forward into the speaker’s with a long hissing sound, so fiercely venomous that the man fell back a pace.  Quickly the stranger recovered himself.  “Look you, brothers, I need a room for a few days, anywhere, a small room, and I can pay well.”

“My house,” said the man named Joseph, “is yours, but there are six men with me.”

Quickly the other took it up.  “My poor house is small, two children, but if the Elder brother would accept?”

“I will accept, my friend,” said the stranger.  “You shall lose nothing by it.”  He took up the bag that he had placed beside him on the platform, saying briefly, “Lead the way.”