He joined us and sat on the sofa near Nikitin without speaking, staring in front of him like the rest of us.

His face was tired and old, his cheeks hollow.
I waited and the silence began to get on my nerves.

Then there came an interruption.

The door opened quite silently: we all turned our eyes towards it without moving our heads.

In the doorway stood Semyonov.
We were startled as though by a ghost.