."

"Thank you, and then I'll have tea."

He instantly settled himself at the other end of the sofa and fell upon
the chicken with extraordinary greediness; at the same time he kept a
constant watch on his victim. Kirillov looked at him fixedly with angry
aversion, as though unable to tear himself away.

"I say, though," Pyotr Stepanovitch fired off suddenly, while he still
went on eating, "what about our business? We are not crying off, are we?
How about that document?"

"I've decided in the night that it's nothing to me. I'll write it. About
the manifestoes?"

"Yes, about the manifestoes too. But I'll dictate it. Of course, that's
nothing to you. Can you possibly mind what's in the letter at such a
moment?"

"That's not your business."

"It's not mine, of course. It need only be a few lines, though: that you
and Shatov distributed the manifestoes and with the help of Fedka, who
hid in your lodgings. This last point about Fedka and your lodgings is
very important--the most important of all, indeed. You see, I am talking
to you quite openly."

"Shatov? Why Shatov? I won't mention Shatov for anything."

"What next! What is it to you? You can't hurt him now."

"His wife has come back to him. She has waked up and has sent to ask me
where he is."

"She has sent to ask you where he is? H'm... that's unfortunate. She may
send again; no one ought to know I am here."

Pyotr Stepanovitch was uneasy.

"She won't know, she's gone to sleep again. There's a midwife with her,
Arina Virginsky."

"So that's how it was.... She won't overhear, I suppose? I say, you'd
better shut the front door."

"She won't overhear anything. And if Shatov comes I'll hide you in
another room."

"Shatov won't come; and you must write that you quarrelled with him
because he turned traitor and informed the police... this evening...
and caused his death."

"He is dead!" cried Kirillov, jumping up from the sofa.

"He died at seven o'clock this evening, or rather, at seven o'clock
yesterday evening, and now it's one o'clock."

"You have killed him!... And I foresaw it yesterday!"

"No doubt you did! With this revolver here." (He drew out his revolver
as though to show it, but did not put it back again and still held it in
his right hand as though in readiness.) "You are a strange man, though,
Kirillov; you knew yourself that the stupid fellow was bound to end
like this. What was there to foresee in that? I made that as plain as
poss