“Please give me a certificate,” began Nikolai Ivanovich, looking around wildly, but speaking with great insistence, “stating where I spent last night.”

“For what purpose?” asked the cat sternly.

“To give to the police and to my wife,” was Nikolai Ivanovich’s firm response.

“We usually don’t give certificates,” said the cat with a frown, “but all right, for you we’ll make an exception.”

Before Nikolai Ivanovich could realize what was happening, the nude Hella was at the typewriter, taking dictation from the cat, “I hereby certify that the bearer of this note, Nikolai Ivanovich, spent the night in question at Satan’s ball, having been lured there in a transportational capacity … Hella, put in parentheses! And write ‘hog.’ Signed—Behemoth.”