“You tell me more than his judges were able to get out of him.  He was judged by a commission of three.  He would tell them absolutely nothing.  I have the report of the interrogatories here, by me.  After every question there stands ‘Refuses to answer—­refuses to answer.’  It’s like that page after page.  You see, I have been entrusted with some further investigations around and about this affair.  He has left me nothing to begin my investigations on.  A hardened miscreant.  And so, you say, he believed in....”

Again Councillor Mikulin glanced down his beard with a faint grimace; but he did not pause for long.  Remarking with a shade of scorn that blasphemers also had that sort of belief, he concluded by supposing that Mr. Razumov had conversed frequently with Haldin on the subject.

“No,” said Razumov loudly, without looking up.  “He talked and I listened.  That is not a conversation.”

“Listening is a great art,” observed Mikulin parenthetically.

“And getting people to talk is another,” mumbled Razumov.

“Well, no—­that is not very difficult,” Mikulin said innocently, “except, of course, in special cases.  For instance, this Haldin.  Nothing could induce him to talk.  He was brought four times before the delegated judges.  Four secret interrogatories—­and even during the last, when your personality was put forward....”

“My personality put forward?” repeated Razumov, raising his head brusquely.  “I don’t understand.”  Councillor Mikulin turned squarely to the table, and taking up some sheets of grey foolscap dropped them one after another, retaining only the last in his hand.  He held it before his eyes while speaking.

“It was—­you see—­judged necessary.  In a case of that gravity no means of action upon the culprit should be neglected.  You understand that yourself, I am certain.

“Razumov stared with enormous wide eyes at the side view of Councillor Mikulin, who now was not looking at him at all.

“So it was decided (I was consulted by General T—–­) that a certain question should be put to the accused.  But in deference to the earnest wishes of Prince K—–­ your name has been kept out of the documents and even from the very knowledge of the judges themselves.  Prince K—–­ recognized the propriety, the necessity of what we proposed to do, but he was concerned for your safety.  Things do leak out—­that we can’t deny.  One cannot always answer for the discretion of inferior officials.  There was, of course, the secretary of the special tribunal—­one or two gendarmes in the room.  Moreover, as I have said, in deference to Prince K—–­ even the judges themselves were to be left in ignorance.  The question ready framed was sent to them by General T—–­ (I wrote it out with my own hand) with instructions to put it to the prisoner the very last of all.  Here it is.

“Councillor Mikulin threw back his head into proper focus and went on reading monotonously:  ’Question—­Has the man well known to you, in whose rooms you remained for several hours on Monday and on whose information you have been arrested—­has he had any previous knowledge of your intention to commit a political murder?...’  Prisoner refuses to reply.