He was right in his reckoning.

Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch had already with his left hand taken off his thick scarf to tie his prisoner's arms, but suddenly, for some reason, he abandoned him, and shoved him away.

The man instantly sprang on to his feet, turned round, and a short, broad boot-knife suddenly gleamed in his hand.
"Away with that knife; put it away, at once!" Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch commanded with an impatient gesture, and the knife vanished as instantaneously as it had appeared.
Without speaking again or turning round, Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch went on his way.

But the persistent vagabond did not leave him even now, though now, it is true, he did not chatter, and even respectfully kept his distance, a full step behind.
They crossed the bridge like this and came out on to the river bank, turning this time to the left, again into a long deserted back street, which led to the centre of the town by a shorter way than going through Bogoyavlensky Street.
"Is it true, as they say, that you robbed a church in the district the other day ?" Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch asked suddenly.
"I went in to say my prayers in the first place," the tramp answered, sedately and respectfully as though nothing had happened; more than sedately, in fact, almost with dignity.

There was no trace of his former "friendly" familiarity.