g it! And the chambermaid
has a queer expression too! Wait, you wretches! We'll ferret it all
out!"

In the evening Chubikoff and his deputy, lit on their road by the pale
moon, wended their way homeward. They sat in their carriage and thought
over the results of the day. Both were tired and kept silent. Chubikoff
was always unwilling to talk while travelling, and the talkative
Dukovski remained silent, to fall in with the elder man's humour. But at
the end of their journey the deputy could hold in no longer, and said:

"It is quite certain," he said, "that Nicholas had something to do with
the matter. _Non dubitandum est!_ You can see by his face what sort of a
case he is! His alibi betrays him, body and bones. But it is also
certain that he did not set the thing going. He was only the stupid
hired tool. You agree? And the humble Psyekoff was not without some
slight share in the matter. His dark blue breeches, his agitation, his
lying behind the stove in terror after the murder, his alibi
and--Aquilina--"

"'Grind away, Emilian; it's your week!' So, according to you, whoever
knew Aquilina is the murderer! Hothead! You ought to be sucking a
bottle, and not handling affairs! You were one of Aquilina's admirers
yourself--does it follow that you are implicated too?"

"Aquilina was cook in your house for a month. I am saying nothing about
that! The night before that Saturday I was playing cards with you, and
saw you, otherwise I should be after you too! It isn't the woman that
matters, old chap! It is the mean, nasty, low spirit of jealousy that
matters. The retiring young man was not pleased when they got the better
of him, you see! His vanity, don't you see? He wanted revenge. Then,
those thick lips of his suggest passion. So there you have it: wounded
self-love and passion. That is quite enough motive for a murder. We have
two of them in our hands; but who is the third? Nicholas and Psyekoff
held him, but who smothered him? Psyekoff is shy, timid, an all-round
coward. And Nicholas would not know how to smother with a pillow. His
sort use an axe or a club. Some third person did the smothering; but who
was it?"

Dukovski crammed his hat down over his eyes and pondered. He remained
silent until the carriage rolled up to the magistrate's door.

"Eureka!" he said, entering the little house and throwing off his
overcoat. "Eureka, Nicholas Yermolaiyevitch! The only thing I can't
understand is, how it did not occur to me