“You can’t do without an ax and bloodstained sheets.  Those jurists!  Very well, I’ll prove it to you!  You will stop sneering at the psychological side of the affair!  To Siberia with your Maria Ivanovna!  I will prove it!  If philosophy is not enough for you, I have something substantial for you.  It will show you how correct my philosophy is.  Just give me permission——­”

“What are you going on about?”

“About the safety match!  Have you forgotten it?  I haven’t!  I am going to find out who struck it in the murdered man’s room.  It was not Nicholas that struck it; it was not Psyekoff, for neither of them had any matches when they were examined; it was the third person, Maria Ivanovna.  I will prove it to you.  Just give me permission to go through the district to find out.”

“That’s enough!  Sit down.  Let us go on with the examination.”

Dukovski sat down at a little table, and plunged his long nose in a bundle of papers.

“Bring in Nicholas Tetekhoff!” cried the examining magistrate.

They brought Nicholas in.  Nicholas was pale and thin as a rail.  He was trembling.

“Tetekhoff!” began Chubikoff.  “In 1879 you were tried in the Court of the First Division, convicted of theft, and sentenced to imprisonment.  In 1882 you were tried a second time for theft, and were again imprisoned.  We know all——­”

Astonishment was depicted on Nicholas’s face.  The examining magistrate’s omniscience startled him.  But soon his expression of astonishment changed to extreme indignation.  He began to cry and requested permission to go and wash his face and quiet down.  They led him away.

“Bring in Psyekoff!” ordered the examining magistrate.

They brought in Psyekoff.  The young man had changed greatly during the last few days.  He had grown thin and pale, and looked haggard.  His eyes had an apathetic expression.

“Sit down, Psyekoff,” said Chubikoff.  “I hope that to-day you are going to be reasonable, and will not tell lies, as you did before.  All these days you have denied that you had anything to do with the murder of Klausoff, in spite of all the proofs that testify against you.  That is foolish.  Confession will lighten your guilt.  This is the last time I am going to talk to you.  If you do not confess to-day, to-morrow it will be too late.  Come, tell me all——­”

“I know nothing about it.  I know nothing about your proofs,” answered Psyekoff, almost inaudibly.

“It’s no use!  Well, let me relate to you how the matter took place.  On Saturday evening you were sitting in Klausoff’s sleeping room, and drinking vodka and beer with him.” (Dukovski fixed his eyes on Psyekoff’s face, and kept them there all through the examination.) “Nicholas was waiting on you.  At one o’clock, Marcus Ivanovitch announced his intention of going to bed.  He always went to bed at one o’clock.  When he was taking off his boots, and was giving you