It was strange to think that so much humane painstaking care and exertion was being introduced into the business of hanging people; that the most insane deed on earth was being committed with such an air of simplicity and reasonableness.

The cars were running, and human beings sat in them as people always do, and they rode as people usually ride; and then there would be a halt, as usual.
"The train will stop for five minutes." And there death would be waiting--eternity--the great mystery, on with friendliness, watching how Yanson's fingers took the cigarette, how the match flared, and then how the blue smoke issued from Yanson's mouth.
"Thanks," said Yanson; "it's good." "How strange!" said Sergey.
"What is strange ?" Werner turned around.

"What is strange ?" "I mean--the cigarette." Yanson held a cigarette, an ordinary cigarette, in his ordinary live hands, and, pale-faced, looked at it with surprise, even with terror.
And all fixed their eyes upon the little tube, from the end of which smoke was issuing, like a bluish ribbon, wafted aside by the breathing, with the ashes, gathering, turning black.

The light went out.
"The light's out," said Tanya.
"Yes, the light's out." "Let it go," said Werner, frowning, looking uneasily at Yanson, whose hand, holding the cigarette, was hanging loosely, as if dead.

Suddenly Tsiganok turned quickly, bent over to Werner, close to him, face to face, and rolling the whites of his eyes, like a horse, whispered: "Master, how about the convoys?
Suppose we--we?
Shall we try ?" "No, don't do it," Werner replied, also in a whisper.