and round, as is usual in fever.  On reaching the turning into the street he had taken the day before, he glanced in great agitation in the direction of the house, but immediately averted his eyes again.  “If they ask me, I should confess, perhaps,” said he to himself, as he turned away and made for the office.  This was not far distant, in a new house, on the fourth floor.  As he entered the court, he saw to the right of him a staircase, ascending which was a man carrying some books.  “It was evidently there.”  He did not think of asking.

“I will go and fall on my knees and confess all,” he murmured, and began to ascend the narrow and very steep stairs.  On every floor the doors of the kitchens of the several apartments stood open to the staircase, and emitted a suffocating, sickening odor.  The entrance to the office he was in search of was also wide open, and he walked in.  A number of persons were waiting in the anteroom.  The stench was simply intolerable, and was intensified by the smell of fresh paint.  Pausing a little, he decided to advance farther into the small low room.  He became impatient when he found no one took any notice of him.  In an inner room were seated a number of clerks engaged in writing.  He went up to one of these.

“What do you want?” Raskolnikoff showed him the notice.

“You are a student?” asked a clerk, glancing at the notice.

“Yes;—­that is, I used to be.”

The clerk glanced at him—­without, however, any particular curiosity.  He was a man with unkempt hair and an expressionless face.

“There is nothing to be learned from him, evidently,” thought Raskolnikoff.

“Step in there to the head clerk,” said the man, pointing to a farther room, which was quite full of people, among whom were two ladies.

The assistant district officer, a man adorned with red whiskers standing out on either side of his face, and with extremely small features, looked up impatiently at Raskolnikoff, whose filthy attire was by no means prepossessing.  The latter returned his glance calmly and straight in the face, and in such a manner as to give the officer offense.

“What do you want here?” he cried, apparently surprised that such a ragged beggar was not knocked down by his thunder-bearing glance.

“I am here because I was summoned,” stammered Raskolnikoff.

“It is for the recovery of money lent,” said the head clerk.  “Here!” and he threw a paper to Raskolnikoff, “Read!”

“Money?  What money?  It cannot be that,” thought the young man, and he trembled with joy.  Everything became clear, and the load fell off his shoulders.

“At what hour did you receive this, sir?” cried the lieutenant; “you were told to come at nine o’clock, and now it is nearly twelve!”

“I received it a quarter of an hour ago,” loudly replied Raskolnikoff, over his shoulder, suddenly angered, “and it is sufficient to say that I am ill with a fever.”