is Mark Ivanitch?" Dyukovsky asked quietly.

"I beg you not to put your spoke in," Tchubikov answered roughly.
"Kindly examine the floor. This is the second case in my experience,
Yevgraf Kuzmitch," he added to the police superintendent, dropping
his voice. "In 1870 I had a similar case. But no doubt you remember
it. . . . The murder of the merchant Portretov. It was just the
same. The blackguards murdered him, and dragged the dead body out
of the window."

Tchubikov went to the window, drew the curtain aside, and cautiously
pushed the window. The window opened.

"It opens, so it was not fastened. . . . H'm there are traces on
the window-sill. Do you see? Here is the trace of a knee. . . .
Some one climbed out. . . . We shall have to inspect the window
thoroughly."

"There is nothing special to be observed on the floor," said
Dyukovsky. "No stains, nor scratches. The only thing I have found
is a used Swedish match. Here it is. As far as I remember, Mark
Ivanitch didn't smoke; in a general way he used sulphur ones, never
Swedish matches. This match may serve as a clue. . . ."

"Oh, hold your tongue, please!" cried Tchubikov, with a wave of his
hand. "He keeps on about his match! I can't stand these excitable
people! Instead of looking for matches, you had better examine the
bed!"

On inspecting the bed, Dyukovsky reported:

"There are no stains of blood or of anything else. . . . Nor are
there any fresh rents. On the pillow there are traces of teeth. A
liquid, having the smell of beer and also the taste of it, has been
spilt on the quilt. . . . The general appearance of the bed gives
grounds for supposing there has been a struggle."

"I know there was a struggle without your telling me! No one asked
you whether there was a struggle. Instead of looking out for a
struggle you had better be . . ."

"One boot is here, the other one is not on the scene."

"Well, what of that?"

"Why, they must have strangled him while he was taking off his
boots. He hadn't time to take the second boot off when . . . ."

"He's off again! . . . And how do you know that he was strangled?"

"There are marks of teeth on the pillow. The pillow itself is very
much crumpled, and has been flung to a distance of six feet from
the bed."

"He argues, the chatterbox! We had better go into the garden. You
had better look in the garden instead of rummaging about here. . . .
I can do that without your help."

When they went out into the