y Yermolaitch!
My dear man! Do hand this case over to me! Let me go through with
it to the end! My dear fellow! I have begun it, and I will carry
it through to the end."

Tchubikov shook his head and frowned.

"I am equal to sifting difficult cases myself," he said. "And it's
your place not to put yourself forward. Write what is dictated to
you, that is your business!"

Dyukovsky flushed crimson, walked out, and slammed the door.

"A clever fellow, the rogue," Tchubikov muttered, looking after
him. "Ve-ery clever! Only inappropriately hasty. I shall have to
buy him a cigar-case at the fair for a present."

Next morning a lad with a big head and a hare lip came from Klyauzovka.
He gave his name as the shepherd Danilko, and furnished a very
interesting piece of information.

"I had had a drop," said he. "I stayed on till midnight at my
crony's. As I was going home, being drunk, I got into the river for
a bathe. I was bathing and what do I see! Two men coming along the
dam carrying something black. 'Tyoo!' I shouted at them. They were
scared, and cut along as fast as they could go into the Makarev
kitchen-gardens. Strike me dead, if it wasn't the master they were
carrying!"

Towards evening of the same day Psyekov and Nikolashka were arrested
and taken under guard to the district town. In the town they were
put in the prison tower.

II

Twelve days passed.

It was morning. The examining magistrate, Nikolay Yermolaitch, was
sitting at a green table at home, looking through the papers,
relating to the "Klyauzov case"; Dyukovsky was pacing up and down
the room restlessly, like a wolf in a cage.

"You are convinced of the guilt of Nikolashka and Psyekov," he said,
nervously pulling at his youthful beard. "Why is it you refuse to
be convinced of the guilt of Marya Ivanovna? Haven't you evidence
enough?"

"I don't say that I don't believe in it. I am convinced of it, but
somehow I can't believe it. . . . There is no real evidence. It's
all theoretical, as it were. . . . Fanaticism and one thing and
another. . . ."

"And you must have an axe and bloodstained sheets! . . . You lawyers!
Well, I will prove it to you then! Do give up your slip-shod attitude
to the psychological aspect of the case. Your Marya Ivanovna ought
to be in Siberia! I'll prove it. If theoretical proof is not enough
for you, I have something material. . . . It will show you how right
my theory is! Only let me go about a little!"

"What ar