Your humble servant," said the young man and vanished.
Instead of Pankrat came the strange rhythmic scraping sound of something metallic hitting the floor, and into the laboratory rolled a man of unusual girth, dressed in a blouse and trousers made from a woollen blanket.
His left, artificial leg clattered and clanked, and he was holding a briefcase.
The clean-shaven round face resembling yellowish meat-jelly was creased into a welcoming smile.
He bowed in military fashion to the Professor and drew himself up, his leg giving a springlike snap.
Persikov was speechless.
My dear Professor," the stranger began in a pleasant, slightly throaty voice, "forgive an ordinary mortal for invading your seclusion." "Are you a reporter?" Persikov asked.
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