the mysterious and portentous murder of the student
Shatov--the climax of the long series of senseless actions in
our midst--as well as the extremely mysterious circumstances that
accompanied that murder. But the order came too late: Pyotr Stepanovitch
was already in Petersburg, living under another name, and, learning
what was going on, he made haste to make his escape abroad.... But I am
anticipating in a shocking way.

He went in to Kirillov, looking ill-humoured and quarrelsome. Apart from
the real task before him, he felt, as it were, tempted to satisfy some
personal grudge, to avenge himself on Kirillov for something. Kirillov
seemed pleased to see him; he had evidently been expecting him a long
time with painful impatience. His face was paler than usual; there was a
fixed and heavy look in his black eyes.

"I thought you weren't coming," he brought out drearily from his corner
of the sofa, from which he had not, however, moved to greet him.

Pyotr Stepanovitch stood before him and, before uttering a word, looked
intently at his face.

"Everything is in order, then, and we are not drawing back from our
resolution. Bravo!" He smiled an offensively patronising smile. "But,
after all," he added with unpleasant jocosity, "if I am behind my time,
it's not for you to complain: I made you a present of three hours."

"I don't want extra hours as a present from you, and you can't make me a
present... you fool!"

"What?" Pyotr Stepanovitch was startled, but instantly controlled
himself. "What huffiness! So we are in a savage temper?" he rapped
out, still with the same offensive superciliousness. "At such a moment
composure is what you need. The best thing you can do is to consider
yourself a Columbus and me a mouse, and not to take offence at anything
I say. I gave you that advice yesterday."

"I don't want to look upon you as a mouse."

"What's that, a compliment? But the tea is cold--and that shows that
everything is topsy-turvy. Bah! But I see something in the window, on a
plate." He went to the window. "Oh oh, boiled chicken and rice!... But
why haven't you begun upon it yet? So we are in such a state of mind
that even chicken..."

"I've dined, and it's not your business. Hold your tongue!"

"Oh, of course; besides, it's no consequence--though for me at the
moment it is of consequence. Only fancy, I scarcely had any dinner, and
so if, as I suppose, that chicken is not wanted now... eh?"

"Eat it if you can