English
Thedoorwasasbeforeopenedatinycrack,andagaintwosharpandsuspiciouseyesstaredathimoutofthedarkness.ThenRaskolnikovlosthisheadandnearlymadeagreatmistake.
Fearingtheoldwomanwouldbefrightenedbytheirbeingalone,andnothopingthatthesightofhimwoulddisarmhersuspicions,hetookholdofthedooranddrewittowardshimtopreventtheoldwomanfromattemptingtoshutitagain.
Seeingthisshedidnotpullthedoorback,butshedidnotletgothehandlesothathealmostdraggedheroutwithitontothestairs.
Seeingthatshewasstandinginthedoorwaynotallowinghimtopass,headvancedstraightuponher.
Shesteppedbackinalarm,triedtosaysomething,butseemedunabletospeakandstaredwithopeneyesathim.
“Goodevening,AlyonaIvanovna,”hebegan,tryingtospeakeasily,buthisvoicewouldnotobeyhim,itbrokeandshook.
“Ihavecome…Ihavebroughtsomething…butwe’dbettercomein…tothelight….”
Andleavingher,hepassedstraightintotheroomuninvited.Theoldwomanranafterhim;hertonguewasunloosed.
“Goodheavens!Whatitis?Whoisit?Whatdoyouwant?”
“Why,AlyonaIvanovna,youknowme…Raskolnikov…here,IbroughtyouthepledgeIpromisedtheotherday…”Andheheldoutthepledge.
Theoldwomanglancedforamomentatthepledge,butatoncestaredintheeyesofheruninvitedvisitor.
Shelookedintently,maliciouslyandmistrustfully.
Aminutepassed;heevenfanciedsomethinglikeasneerinhereyes,asthoughshehadalreadyguessedeverything.
Hefeltthathewaslosinghishead,thathewasalmostfrightened,sofrightenedthatifsheweretolooklikethatandnotsayawordforanotherhalfminute,hethoughthewouldhaverunawayfromher.
“Whydoyoulookatmeasthoughyoudidnotknowme?”hesaidsuddenly,alsowithmalice.“Takeitifyoulike,ifnotI’llgoelsewhere,Iaminahurry.”
Hehadnoteventhoughtofsayingthis,butitwassuddenlysaidofitself.Theoldwomanrecoveredherself,andhervisitor’sresolutetoneevidentlyrestoredherconfidence.
“Butwhy,mygoodsir,allofaminute….Whatisit?”sheasked,lookingatthepledge.
“Thesilvercigarettecase;Ispokeofitlasttime,youknow.”
Sheheldoutherhand.
“Buthowpaleyouare,tobesure…andyourhandsaretremblingtoo?Haveyoubeenbathing,orwhat?”
“Fever,”heansweredabruptly.“Youcan’thelpgettingpale…ifyou’venothingtoeat,”headded,withdifficultyarticulatingthewords.
Hisstrengthwasfailinghimagain.Buthisanswersoundedlikethetruth;theoldwomantookthepledge.
“Whatisit?”sheaskedoncemore,scanningRaskolnikovintently,andweighingthepledgeinherhand.
“Athing…cigarettecase….Silver….Lookatit.”
“Itdoesnotseemsomehowlikesilver….Howhehaswrappeditup!”
Tryingtountiethestringandturningtothewindow,tothelight(allherwindowswereshut,inspiteofthestiflingheat),shelefthimaltogetherforsomesecondsandstoodwithherbacktohim.
Heunbuttonedhiscoatandfreedtheaxefromthenoose,butdidnotyettakeitoutaltogether,simplyholdingitinhisrighthandunderthecoat.
Hishandswerefearfullyweak,hefeltthemeverymomentgrowingmorenumbandmorewooden.
Hewasafraidhewouldlettheaxeslipandfall….Asuddengiddinesscameoverhim.
“Butwhathashetiedituplikethisfor?”theoldwomancriedwithvexationandmovedtowardshim.
Hehadnotaminutemoretolose.Hepulledtheaxequiteout,swungitwithbotharms,scarcelyconsciousofhimself,andalmostwithouteffort,almostmechanically,broughtthebluntsidedownonherhead.
Heseemednottousehisownstrengthinthis.
Butassoonashehadoncebroughttheaxedown,hisstrengthreturnedtohim.
Theoldwomanwasasalwaysbareheaded.Herthin,lighthair,streakedwithgrey,thicklysmearedwithgrease,wasplaitedinarat’stailandfastenedbyabrokenhorncombwhichstoodoutonthenapeofherneck.
Asshewassoshort,theblowfellontheverytopofherskull.
Shecriedout,butveryfaintly,andsuddenlysankallofaheaponthefloor,raisingherhandstoherhead.
Inonehandshestillheld“thepledge.”
Thenhedealtheranotherandanotherblowwiththebluntsideandonthesamespot.
Thebloodgushedasfromanoverturnedglass,thebodyfellback.
Hesteppedback,letitfall,andatoncebentoverherface;shewasdead.
Hereyesseemedtobestartingoutoftheirsockets,thebrowandthewholefaceweredrawnandcontortedconvulsively.
Helaidtheaxeonthegroundnearthedeadbodyandfeltatonceinherpocket(tryingtoavoidthestreamingbody)—thesameright-handpocketfromwhichshehadtakenthekeyonhislastvisit.
Hewasinfullpossessionofhisfaculties,freefromconfusionorgiddiness,buthishandswerestilltrembling.
Herememberedafterwardsthathehadbeenparticularlycollectedandcareful,tryingallthetimenottogetsmearedwithblood….
Hepulledoutthekeysatonce,theywereall,asbefore,inonebunchonasteelring.
Heranatonceintothebedroomwiththem.
Itwasaverysmallroomwithawholeshrineofholyimages.
Againsttheotherwallstoodabigbed,verycleanandcoveredwithasilkpatchworkwaddedquilt.
Againstathirdwallwasachestofdrawers.
Strangetosay,sosoonashebegantofitthekeysintothechest,sosoonasheheardtheirjingling,aconvulsiveshudderpassedoverhim.
Hesuddenlyfelttemptedagaintogiveitallupandgoaway.
Butthatwasonlyforaninstant;itwastoolatetogoback.
Hepositivelysmiledathimself,whensuddenlyanotherterrifyingideaoccurredtohismind.
Hesuddenlyfanciedthattheoldwomanmightbestillaliveandmightrecoverhersenses.
Leavingthekeysinthechest,heranbacktothebody,snatcheduptheaxeandlifteditoncemoreovertheoldwoman,butdidnotbringitdown.Therewasnodoubtthatshewasdead.
Bendingdownandexaminingheragainmoreclosely,hesawclearlythattheskullwasbrokenandevenbatteredinononeside.
Hewasabouttofeelitwithhisfinger,butdrewbackhishandandindeeditwasevidentwithoutthat.
Meanwhiletherewasaperfectpoolofblood.
Allatoncehenoticedastringonherneck;hetuggedatit,butthestringwasstronganddidnotsnapandbesides,itwassoakedwithblood.
Hetriedtopullitoutfromthefrontofthedress,butsomethinghelditandpreventeditscoming.
Inhisimpatienceheraisedtheaxeagaintocutthestringfromaboveonthebody,butdidnotdare,andwithdifficulty,smearinghishandandtheaxeintheblood,aftertwominutes’hurriedeffort,hecutthestringandtookitoffwithouttouchingthebodywiththeaxe;hewasnotmistaken—itwasapurse.
Onthestringweretwocrosses,oneofCypruswoodandoneofcopper,andanimageinsilverfiligree,andwiththemasmallgreasychamoisleatherpursewithasteelrimandring.
Thepursewasstuffedveryfull;Raskolnikovthrustitinhispocketwithoutlookingatit,flungthecrossesontheoldwoman’sbodyandrushedbackintothebedroom,thistimetakingtheaxewithhim.
Hewasinterriblehaste,hesnatchedthekeys,andbegantryingthemagain.Buthewasunsuccessful.Theywouldnotfitinthelocks.
Itwasnotsomuchthathishandswereshaking,butthathekeptmakingmistakes;thoughhesawforinstancethatakeywasnottherightoneandwouldnotfit,stillhetriedtoputitin.
Suddenlyherememberedandrealisedthatthebigkeywiththedeepnotches,whichwashangingtherewiththesmallkeyscouldnotpossiblybelongtothechestofdrawers(onhislastvisitthishadstruckhim),buttosomestrongbox,andthateverythingperhapswashiddeninthatbox.
Heleftthechestofdrawers,andatoncefeltunderthebedstead,knowingthatoldwomenusuallykeepboxesundertheirbeds.
Andsoitwas;therewasagood-sizedboxunderthebed,atleastayardinlength,withanarchedlidcoveredwithredleatherandstuddedwithsteelnails.
Thenotchedkeyfittedatonceandunlockedit.
Atthetop,underawhitesheet,wasacoatofredbrocadelinedwithhareskin;underitwasasilkdress,thenashawlanditseemedasthoughtherewasnothingbelowbutclothes.
Thefirstthinghedidwastowipehisblood-stainedhandsontheredbrocade.
“It’sred,andonredbloodwillbelessnoticeable,”thethoughtpassedthroughhismind;thenhesuddenlycametohimself.
“GoodGod,amIgoingoutofmysenses?”hethoughtwithterror.
Butnosoonerdidhetouchtheclothesthanagoldwatchslippedfromunderthefurcoat.Hemadehastetoturnthemallover.
Thereturnedouttobevariousarticlesmadeofgoldamongtheclothes—probablyallpledges,unredeemedorwaitingtoberedeemed—bracelets,chains,ear-rings,pinsandsuchthings.
Somewereincases,otherssimplywrappedinnewspaper,carefullyandexactlyfolded,andtiedroundwithtape.
Withoutanydelay,hebeganfillingupthepocketsofhistrousersandovercoatwithoutexaminingorundoingtheparcelsandcases;buthehadnottimetotakemany….
Hesuddenlyheardstepsintheroomwheretheoldwomanlay.
Hestoppedshortandwasstillasdeath.
Butallwasquiet,soitmusthavebeenhisfancy.
Allatoncehehearddistinctlyafaintcry,asthoughsomeonehadutteredalowbrokenmoan.
Thenagaindeadsilenceforaminuteortwo.
Hesatsquattingonhisheelsbytheboxandwaitedholdinghisbreath.
Suddenlyhejumpedup,seizedtheaxeandranoutofthebedroom.
InthemiddleoftheroomstoodLizavetawithabigbundleinherarms.
Shewasgazinginstupefactionathermurderedsister,whiteasasheetandseemingnottohavethestrengthtocryout.
Seeinghimrunoutofthebedroom,shebeganfaintlyquiveringallover,likealeaf,ashudderrandownherface;sheliftedherhand,openedhermouth,butstilldidnotscream.
Shebeganslowlybackingawayfromhimintothecorner,staringintently,persistentlyathim,butstillutterednosound,asthoughshecouldnotgetbreathtoscream.
Herushedatherwiththeaxe;hermouthtwitchedpiteously,asoneseesbabies’mouths,whentheybegintobefrightened,stareintentlyatwhatfrightensthemandareonthepointofscreaming.
AndthishaplessLizavetawassosimpleandhadbeensothoroughlycrushedandscaredthatshedidnotevenraiseahandtoguardherface,thoughthatwasthemostnecessaryandnaturalactionatthemoment,fortheaxewasraisedoverherface.
Sheonlyputupheremptylefthand,butnottoherface,slowlyholdingitoutbeforeherasthoughmotioninghimaway.
Theaxefellwiththesharpedgejustontheskullandsplitatoneblowallthetopofthehead.Shefellheavilyatonce.
Raskolnikovcompletelylosthishead,snatchingupherbundle,droppeditagainandranintotheentry.
Feargainedmoreandmoremasteryoverhim,especiallyafterthissecond,quiteunexpectedmurder.
Helongedtorunawayfromtheplaceasfastaspossible.
Andifatthatmomenthehadbeencapableofseeingandreasoningmorecorrectly,ifhehadbeenabletorealiseallthedifficultiesofhisposition,thehopelessness,thehideousnessandtheabsurdityofit,ifhecouldhaveunderstoodhowmanyobstaclesand,perhaps,crimeshehadstilltoovercomeortocommit,togetoutofthatplaceandtomakehiswayhome,itisverypossiblethathewouldhaveflungupeverything,andwouldhavegonetogivehimselfup,andnotfromfear,butfromsimplehorrorandloathingofwhathehaddone.
Thefeelingofloathingespeciallysurgedupwithinhimandgrewstrongereveryminute.
Hewouldnotnowhavegonetotheboxorevenintotheroomforanythingintheworld.
Butasortofblankness,evendreaminess,hadbegunbydegreestotakepossessionofhim;atmomentsheforgothimself,orrather,forgotwhatwasofimportance,andcaughtattrifles.
Glancing,however,intothekitchenandseeingabuckethalffullofwateronabench,hebethoughthimofwashinghishandsandtheaxe.Hishandswerestickywithblood.
Hedroppedtheaxewiththebladeinthewater,snatchedapieceofsoapthatlayinabrokensauceronthewindow,andbeganwashinghishandsinthebucket.
Whentheywereclean,hetookouttheaxe,washedthebladeandspentalongtime,aboutthreeminutes,washingthewoodwheretherewerespotsofbloodrubbingthemwithsoap.
Thenhewipeditallwithsomelinenthatwashangingtodryonalineinthekitchenandthenhewasalongwhileattentivelyexaminingtheaxeatthewindow.
Therewasnotraceleftonit,onlythewoodwasstilldamp.
Hecarefullyhungtheaxeinthenooseunderhiscoat.
Thenasfaraswaspossible,inthedimlightinthekitchen,helookedoverhisovercoat,histrousersandhisboots.
Atthefirstglancethereseemedtobenothingbutstainsontheboots.Hewettedtheragandrubbedtheboots.
Butheknewhewasnotlookingthoroughly,thattheremightbesomethingquitenoticeablethathewasoverlooking.
Hestoodinthemiddleoftheroom,lostinthought.
Darkagonisingideasroseinhismind—theideathathewasmadandthatatthatmomenthewasincapableofreasoning,ofprotectinghimself,thatheoughtperhapstobedoingsomethingutterlydifferentfromwhathewasnowdoing.“GoodGod!”
hemuttered“Imustfly,fly,”andherushedintotheentry.
Buthereashockofterrorawaitedhimsuchashehadneverknownbefore.
Hestoodandgazedandcouldnotbelievehiseyes:thedoor,theouterdoorfromthestairs,atwhichhehadnotlongbeforewaitedandrung,wasstandingunfastenedandatleastsixinchesopen.
Nolock,nobolt,allthetime,allthattime!
Theoldwomanhadnotshutitafterhimperhapsasaprecaution.But,goodGod!Why,hehadseenLizavetaafterwards!
Andhowcouldhe,howcouldhehavefailedtoreflectthatshemusthavecomeinsomehow!
Shecouldnothavecomethroughthewall!
Hedashedtothedoorandfastenedthelatch.
“Butno,thewrongthingagain!Imustgetaway,getaway….”
Heunfastenedthelatch,openedthedoorandbeganlisteningonthestaircase.
Helistenedalongtime.Somewherefaraway,itmightbeinthegateway,twovoiceswereloudlyandshrillyshouting,quarrellingandscolding.“Whataretheyabout?”Hewaitedpatiently.
Atlastallwasstill,asthoughsuddenlycutoff;theyhadseparated.
Hewasmeaningtogoout,butsuddenly,onthefloorbelow,adoorwasnoisilyopenedandsomeonebegangoingdownstairshummingatune.“Howisittheyallmakesuchanoise?”flashedthroughhismind.
Oncemoreheclosedthedoorandwaited.
Atlastallwasstill,notasoulstirring.
Hewasjusttakingasteptowardsthestairswhenheheardfreshfootsteps.
Thestepssoundedveryfaroff,attheverybottomofthestairs,butherememberedquiteclearlyanddistinctlythatfromthefirstsoundhebeganforsomereasontosuspectthatthiswassomeonecomingthere,tothefourthfloor,totheoldwoman.Why?
Werethesoundssomehowpeculiar,significant?
Thestepswereheavy,evenandunhurried.
Nowhehadpassedthefirstfloor,nowhewasmountinghigher,itwasgrowingmoreandmoredistinct!Hecouldhearhisheavybreathing.
Andnowthethirdstoreyhadbeenreached.Cominghere!
Anditseemedtohimallatoncethathewasturnedtostone,thatitwaslikeadreaminwhichoneisbeingpursued,nearlycaughtandwillbekilled,andisrootedtothespotandcannotevenmoveone’sarms.
Atlastwhentheunknownwasmountingtothefourthfloor,hesuddenlystarted,andsucceededinslippingneatlyandquicklybackintotheflatandclosingthedoorbehindhim.
Thenhetookthehookandsoftly,noiselessly,fixeditinthecatch.Instincthelpedhim.
Whenhehaddonethis,hecrouchedholdinghisbreath,bythedoor.
Theunknownvisitorwasbynowalsoatthedoor.
Theywerenowstandingoppositeoneanother,ashehadjustbeforebeenstandingwiththeoldwoman,whenthedoordividedthemandhewaslistening.
Thevisitorpantedseveraltimes.“Hemustbeabig,fatman,”thoughtRaskolnikov,squeezingtheaxeinhishand.Itseemedlikeadreamindeed.Thevisitortookholdofthebellandrangitloudly.
Assoonasthetinbelltinkled,Raskolnikovseemedtobeawareofsomethingmovingintheroom.
Forsomesecondshelistenedquiteseriously.
Theunknownrangagain,waitedandsuddenlytuggedviolentlyandimpatientlyatthehandleofthedoor.
Raskolnikovgazedinhorroratthehookshakinginitsfastening,andinblankterrorexpectedeveryminutethatthefasteningwouldbepulledout.
Itcertainlydidseempossible,soviolentlywasheshakingit.
Hewastemptedtoholdthefastening,buthemightbeawareofit.Agiddinesscameoverhimagain.“Ishallfalldown!”
flashedthroughhismind,buttheunknownbegantospeakandherecoveredhimselfatonce.
“What’sup?Aretheyasleepormurdered?D-damnthem!”
hebawledinathickvoice,“Hey,AlyonaIvanovna,oldwitch!LizavetaIvanovna,hey,mybeauty!openthedoor!Oh,damnthem!Aretheyasleeporwhat?”
Andagain,enraged,hetuggedwithallhismightadozentimesatthebell.Hemustcertainlybeamanofauthorityandanintimateacquaintance.
Atthismomentlighthurriedstepswereheardnotfaroff,onthestairs.Someoneelsewasapproaching.Raskolnikovhadnotheardthematfirst.
“Youdon’tsaythere’snooneathome,”thenew-comercriedinacheerful,ringingvoice,addressingthefirstvisitor,whostillwentonpullingthebell.“Goodevening,Koch.”
“Fromhisvoicehemustbequiteyoung,”thoughtRaskolnikov.
“Whothedevilcantell?I’vealmostbrokenthelock,”answeredKoch.“Buthowdoyoucometoknowme?
“Why!ThedaybeforeyesterdayIbeatyouthreetimesrunningatbilliardsatGambrinus’.”
“Oh!”
“Sotheyarenotathome?That’squeer.It’sawfullystupidthough.Wherecouldtheoldwomanhavegone?I’vecomeonbusiness.”
“Yes;andIhavebusinesswithher,too.”
“Well,whatcanwedo?Goback,Isuppose,Aie—aie!AndIwashopingtogetsomemoney!”criedtheyoungman.
“Wemustgiveitup,ofcourse,butwhatdidshefixthistimefor?
Theoldwitchfixedthetimeformetocomeherself.It’soutofmyway.
Andwherethedevilshecanhavegotto,Ican’tmakeout.
Shesitsherefromyear’sendtoyear’send,theoldhag;herlegsarebadandyethereallofasuddensheisoutforawalk!”
“Hadn’twebetterasktheporter?”
“What?”
“Whereshe’sgoneandwhenshe’llbeback.”
“Hm….Damnitall!...Wemightask….Butyouknowsheneverdoesgoanywhere.”
Andheoncemoretuggedatthedoor-handle.
“Damnitall.There’snothingtobedone,wemustgo!”
“Stay!”criedtheyoungmansuddenly.“Doyouseehowthedoorshakesifyoupullit?”
“Well?”
“Thatshowsit’snotlocked,butfastenedwiththehook!Doyouhearhowthehookclanks?”
“Well?”
“Why,don’tyousee?Thatprovesthatoneofthemisathome.
Iftheywereallout,theywouldhavelockedthedoorfromtheoutsidewiththekeyandnotwiththehookfrominside.
There,doyouhearhowthehookisclanking?
Tofastenthehookontheinsidetheymustbeathome,don’tyousee.
Sotheretheyaresittinginsideanddon’topenthedoor!”
“Well!Andsotheymustbe!”criedKoch,astonished.“Whataretheyaboutinthere?”Andhebeganfuriouslyshakingthedoor.
“Stay!”criedtheyoungmanagain.“Don’tpullatit!Theremustbesomethingwrong….Here,you’vebeenringingandpullingatthedoorandstilltheydon’topen!Soeitherthey’vebothfaintedor…”
“What?”
“Itellyouwhat.Let’sgofetchtheporter,lethimwakethemup.”
“Allright.”
Bothweregoingdown.
“Stay.YoustopherewhileIrundownfortheporter.”
“Whatfor?”
“Well,you’dbetter.”
“Allright.”
“I’mstudyingthelawyousee!It’sevident,e-vi-dentthere’ssomethingwronghere!”theyoungmancriedhotly,andherandownstairs.
Kochremained.Oncemorehesoftlytouchedthebellwhichgaveonetinkle,thengently,asthoughreflectingandlookingabouthim,begantouchingthedoor-handlepullingitandlettingitgotomakesureoncemorethatitwasonlyfastenedbythehook.
Thenpuffingandpantinghebentdownandbeganlookingatthekeyhole:butthekeywasinthelockontheinsideandsonothingcouldbeseen.
Raskolnikovstoodkeepingtightholdoftheaxe.Hewasinasortofdelirium.
Hewasevenmakingreadytofightwhentheyshouldcomein.
Whiletheywereknockingandtalkingtogether,theideaseveraltimesoccurredtohimtoenditallatonceandshouttothemthroughthedoor.
Nowandthenhewastemptedtoswearatthem,tojeeratthem,whiletheycouldnotopenthedoor!“Onlymakehaste!”
wasthethoughtthatflashedthroughhismind.
“Butwhatthedevilisheabout?...”Timewaspassing,oneminute,andanother—noonecame.Kochbegantoberestless.
“Whatthedevil?”hecriedsuddenlyandinimpatiencedesertinghissentryduty,he,too,wentdown,hurryingandthumpingwithhisheavybootsonthestairs.Thestepsdiedaway.
“Goodheavens!WhatamItodo?”
Raskolnikovunfastenedthehook,openedthedoor—therewasnosound.Abruptly,withoutanythoughtatall,hewentout,closingthedoorasthoroughlyashecould,andwentdownstairs.
Hehadgonedownthreeflightswhenhesuddenlyheardaloudvoicebelow—wherecouldhego!Therewasnowheretohide.Hewasjustgoingbacktotheflat.
“Heythere!Catchthebrute!”
Somebodydashedoutofaflatbelow,shouting,andratherfellthanrandownthestairs,bawlingatthetopofhisvoice.
“Mitka!Mitka!Mitka!Mitka!Mitka!Blasthim!”
Theshoutendedinashriek;thelastsoundscamefromtheyard;allwasstill.
Butatthesameinstantseveralmentalkingloudandfastbegannoisilymountingthestairs.Therewerethreeorfourofthem.
Hedistinguishedtheringingvoiceoftheyoungman.“They!”
Filledwithdespairhewentstraighttomeetthem,feeling“comewhatmust!”
Iftheystoppedhim—allwaslost;iftheylethimpass—allwaslosttoo;theywouldrememberhim.
Theywereapproaching;theywereonlyaflightfromhim—andsuddenlydeliverance!
Afewstepsfromhimontheright,therewasanemptyflatwiththedoorwideopen,theflatonthesecondfloorwherethepaintershadbeenatwork,andwhich,asthoughforhisbenefit,theyhadjustleft.
Itwasthey,nodoubt,whohadjustrundown,shouting.
Thefloorhadonlyjustbeenpainted,inthemiddleoftheroomstoodapailandabrokenpotwithpaintandbrushes.
Inoneinstanthehadwhiskedinattheopendoorandhiddenbehindthewallandonlyinthenickoftime;theyhadalreadyreachedthelanding.
Thentheyturnedandwentonuptothefourthfloor,talkingloudly.
Hewaited,wentoutontiptoeandrandownthestairs.
Noonewasonthestairs,norinthegateway.Hepassedquicklythroughthegatewayandturnedtotheleftinthestreet.
Heknew,heknewperfectlywellthatatthatmomenttheywereattheflat,thattheyweregreatlyastonishedatfindingitunlocked,asthedoorhadjustbeenfastened,thatbynowtheywerelookingatthebodies,thatbeforeanotherminutehadpassedtheywouldguessandcompletelyrealisethatthemurdererhadjustbeenthere,andhadsucceededinhidingsomewhere,slippingbythemandescaping.
Theywouldguessmostlikelythathehadbeenintheemptyflat,whiletheyweregoingupstairs.
Andmeanwhilehedarednotquickenhispacemuch,thoughthenextturningwasstillnearlyahundredyardsaway.
“Shouldheslipthroughsomegatewayandwaitsomewhereinanunknownstreet?No,hopeless!Shouldheflingawaytheaxe?Shouldhetakeacab?Hopeless,hopeless!”
Atlasthereachedtheturning.Heturneddownitmoredeadthanalive.
Herehewashalfwaytosafety,andheunderstoodit;itwaslessriskybecausetherewasagreatcrowdofpeople,andhewaslostinitlikeagrainofsand.
Butallhehadsufferedhadsoweakenedhimthathecouldscarcelymove.
Perspirationrandownhimindrops,hisneckwasallwet.“Myword,hehasbeengoingit!”
someoneshoutedathimwhenhecameoutonthecanalbank.
Hewasonlydimlyconsciousofhimselfnow,andthefartherhewenttheworseitwas.
Herememberedhowever,thatoncomingoutontothecanalbank,hewasalarmedatfindingfewpeoplethereandsobeingmoreconspicuous,andhehadthoughtofturningback.
Thoughhewasalmostfallingfromfatigue,hewentalongwayroundsoastogethomefromquiteadifferentdirection.
Hewasnotfullyconsciouswhenhepassedthroughthegatewayofhishouse!
hewasalreadyonthestaircasebeforeherecollectedtheaxe.
Andyethehadaverygraveproblembeforehim,toputitbackandtoescapeobservationasfaraspossibleindoingso.
Hewasofcourseincapableofreflectingthatitmightperhapsbefarbetternottorestoretheaxeatall,buttodropitlateroninsomebody’syard.
Butitallhappenedfortunately,thedooroftheporter’sroomwasclosedbutnotlocked,sothatitseemedmostlikelythattheporterwasathome.
Buthehadsocompletelylostallpowerofreflectionthathewalkedstraighttothedoorandopenedit.
Iftheporterhadaskedhim,“Whatdoyouwant?”
hewouldperhapshavesimplyhandedhimtheaxe.
Butagaintheporterwasnotathome,andhesucceededinputtingtheaxebackunderthebench,andevencoveringitwiththechunkofwoodasbefore.
Hemetnoone,notasoul,afterwardsonthewaytohisroom;thelandlady’sdoorwasshut.
Whenhewasinhisroom,heflunghimselfonthesofajustashewas—hedidnotsleep,butsankintoblankforgetfulness.
Ifanyonehadcomeintohisroomthen,hewouldhavejumpedupatonceandscreamed.
Scrapsandshredsofthoughtsweresimplyswarminginhisbrain,buthecouldnotcatchatone,hecouldnotrestonone,inspiteofallhisefforts….
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