.

    The door gently opened and in came a man who looked so extraordinary that the dog gave a timid yelp . . .

    'Shut up! . . . My dear fellow, I hardly recognised you!'

    Embarrassed, the visitor bowed politely to Philip Philipovich and giggled nervously.

    'You're a wizard, a magician, professor!' he said bashfully.

    'Take down your trousers, old man,' ordered Philip Philip-ovich and stood up.

    Christ, thought the dog, what a sight! The man's hair was completely green, although at the back it shaded off into a brownish tobacco colour, wrinkles covered his face yet his complexion was as pink as a boy's. His left leg would not bend and had to be dragged across the carpet, but his right leg was as springy as a jack-in-the-box. In the buttonhole of his superb jacket there shone, like an eye, a precious stone.

    The dog was so fascinated that he even forgot his nausea. Oow-ow, he whined softly.

    'Quiet! . . . How have you been sleeping!'

    The man giggled. 'Are we alone, professor? It's indescribable,' said the visitor coyly. 'Parole d'honneur - I haven't known anything like it for twenty-five years . . .' the creature started struggling with his flybuttons . . . 'Would you believe it, professor - hordes of naked girls every night. I am absolutely entranced. You're a magician.'

    'H'm,' grunted Philip Philipovich, preoccupied as he stared into the pupils of his visitor's eyes. The man finally succeeded in mastering his flybuttons and took off his checked trousers, revealing the most extraordinary pair of pants. They were cream-coloured, embroidered with black silk cats and they smelled of perfume.