et at the threshold by a tall buxom woman
of three and twenty, with pitch-black brows and juicy red lips. It was
Olga Petrovna herself, apparently not the least distressed by the recent
tragedy.

"Oh, what a pleasant surprise!" she said, smiling broadly. "You are just
in time for supper. Kuzma Petrovitch is not at home. He is visiting the
priest, and has stayed late. But we'll get on without him! Be seated.
You have come from the examination?"

"Yes. We broke a spring, you know," began Chubikoff, entering the
sitting room and sinking into an armchair.

"Take her unawares--at once!" whispered Dukovski; "take her unawares!"

"A spring--hum--yes--so we came in."

"Take her unawares, I tell you! She will guess what the matter is if you
drag things out like that."

"Well, do it yourself as you want. But let me get out of it," muttered
Chubikoff, rising and going to the window.

"Yes, a spring," began Dukovski, going close to Olga Petrovna and
wrinkling his long nose. "We did not drive over here--to take supper
with you or--to see Kuzma Petrovitch. We came here to ask you, respected
madam, where Marcus Ivanovitch is, whom you murdered!"

"What? Marcus Ivanovitch murdered?" stammered Olga Petrovna, and her
broad face suddenly and instantaneously flushed bright scarlet. "I
don't--understand!"

"I ask you in the name of the law! Where is Klausoff? We know all!"

"Who told you?" Olga Petrovna asked in a low voice, unable to endure
Dukovski's glance.

"Be so good as to show us where he is!"

"But how did you find out? Who told you?"

"We know all! I demand it in the name of the law!"

The examining magistrate, emboldened by her confusion, came forward and
said:

"Show us, and we will go away. Otherwise, we--"

"What do you want with him?"

"Madam, what is the use of these questions? We ask you to show us! You
tremble, you are agitated. Yes, he has been murdered, and, if you must
have it, murdered by you! Your accomplices have betrayed you!"

Olga Petrovna grew pale.

"Come!" she said in a low voice, wringing her hands.

"I have him--hid--in the bath house! Only for heaven's sake, do not tell
Kuzma Petrovitch. I beg and implore you! He will never forgive me!"

Olga Petrovna took down a big key from the wall, and led her guests
through the kitchen and passage to the courtyard. The courtyard was in
darkness. Fine rain was falling. Olga Petrovna walked in advance of
them. Chubikoff and Dukovski strode behind