At the word “blood” the doctor rose, and going over lazily, looked at the spot.

“Yes, it is blood!” he muttered.

“That shows he wasn’t strangled, if there was blood,” said Chubikoff, looking sarcastically at Dukovski.

“They strangled him in the bedroom; and here, fearing he might come round again, they struck him a blow with some sharp-pointed instrument.  The stain under the bush proves that he lay there a considerable time, while they were looking about for some way of carrying him out of the garden.

“Well, and how about the boot?”

“The boot confirms completely my idea that they murdered him while he was taking his boots off before going to bed.  He had already taken off one boot, and the other, this one here, he had only had time to take half off.  The half-off boot came off of itself, while the body was dragged over, and fell——­”

“There’s a lively imagination for you!” laughed Chubikoff.  “He goes on and on like that!  When will you learn enough to drop your deductions?  Instead of arguing and deducing, it would be much better if you took some of the blood-stained grass for analysis!”

When they had finished their examination, and drawn a plan of the locality, the investigators went to the director’s office to write their report and have breakfast.  While they were breakfasting they went on talking: 

“The watch, the money, and so on—­all untouched—­” Chubikoff began, leading off the talk, “show as clearly as that two and two are four that the murder was not committed for the purpose of robbery.”

“The murder was committed by an educated man!” insisted Dukovski.

“What evidence have you of that?”

“The safety match proves that to me, for the peasants hereabouts are not yet acquainted with safety matches.  Only the landowners use them, and by no means all of them.  And it is evident that there was not one murderer, but at least three.  Two held him, while one killed him.  Klausoff was strong, and the murderers must have known it!”

“What good would his strength be, supposing he was asleep?”

“The murderers came on him while he was taking off his boots.  If he was taking off his boots, that proves that he wasn’t asleep!”

“Stop inventing your deductions!  Better eat!”

“In my opinion, your worship,” said the gardener Ephraim, setting the samovar on the table, “it was nobody but Nicholas who did this dirty trick!”

“Quite possible,” said Psyekoff.

“And who is Nicholas?”

“The master’s valet, your worship,” answered Ephraim.  “Who else could it be?  He’s a rascal, your worship!  He’s a drunkard and a blackguard, the like of which Heaven should not permit!  He always took the master his vodka and put the master to bed.  Who else could it be?  And I also venture to point out to your worship, he once boasted at the public house that he would kill the master!  It happened on account of Aquilina, the woman, you know.  He was making up to a soldier’s widow.  She pleased the master; the master made friends with her himself, and Nicholas—­naturally, he was mad!  He is rolling about drunk in the kitchen now.  He is crying, and telling lies, saying he is sorry for the master——­”