A chill went through Azarov: the student's voice, the hoarseness, the slurred endings, were absolutely identical with Krivoshein's. The assistant fell back weakly, his head touching the floor. The orderlies wiped their brows in satisfaction: he was alive! The doctor gave an order and they picked up the stretcher and took him out. The academician took a close look at the fellow. And his heart skipped a beat again. The lab assistant resembled Krivoshein — he didn't know exactly how — and not even the live Krivoshein, but the one down there under the oilcloth.

“See, he's even managed to set the lab assistant against me,”

Hilobok nodded in his direction with unbelievable meekness.

“Why was he so angry with you?” Onisimov turned to him. “Were you two in conflict?”

“Heaven forbid!” The assistant professor shrugged innocently and sincerely. “I've only talked to him once, when I interviewed him to work in Krivoshein's lab at Valentin Vasilyevich's personal request, since he — “

“Victor Vitalyevich Kravets,” Onisimov read from his notes.

“Yes… well, he's a relative of Krivoshein's. He's a student from Kharkov University, and they sent us fifteen people in the winter for a year's practical work. And Krivoshein made him an assistant in his lab through nepotism. But why should we object? We're all human — “

“Enough, Harry Haritonovich,” Azarov cut him off.

“I see,” Onisimov nodded. “Tell me, aside from Kravets, did the deceased have any relatives?”

“What can I tell you, Matvei Apollonovich?” Hilobok sighed deeply. “Officially, no, but unofficially, he was visited by a woman here. I don't know if she's his fiancee, or what. Her name is Elena Ivanovna Kolomiets, and she works in a neighboring construction design bureau, a nice woman — “

“I see. You're on top of things around here, I see.” Onisimov laughed as he headed for the door.

A minute later he was back with a camera and directed the exposure meter at the corner.