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The magistrate Nicholas Yermolaiyevitch was sitting in his office before a green table, turning over the papers of the "Klausoff case"; Dukovski was striding restlessly up and down, like a wolf in a cage. "You are convinced of the guilt of Nicholas and Psyekoff," he said, nervously plucking at his young beard. "Why will you not believe in the guilt of Maria Ivanovna?
I know nothing about your proofs," answered Psyekoff, almost inaudibly. "It's no use! Well, let me relate to you how the matter took place. On Saturday evening you were sitting in Klausoff's sleeping room, and drinking vodka and beer with him." At one o'clock, Marcus Ivanovitch announced his intention of going to bed. He always went to bed at one o'clock.
Astonishment was depicted on Nicholas's face. The examining magistrate's omniscience startled him. But soon his expression of astonishment changed to extreme indignation. He began to cry and requested permission to go and wash his face and quiet down. They led him away. "Brink in Psyekoff!" ordered the examining magistrate. They brought in Psyekoff.
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?
Dukovski poured himself out a glass of vodka, rose, drew himself up, and said, with sparkling eyes: "Well, learn that the third person, who acted in concert with that scoundrel Psyekoff, and did the smothering, was a woman! Yes-s! I mean the murdered man's sister, Maria Ivanovna!" Chubikoff choked over his vodka, and fixed his eyes on Dukovski. "You aren't what's-its-name?
"The murderers came on him while he was taking off his boots. If he was taking off his boots, that proves that he wasn't asleep!" "Stop inventing your deductions! Better eat!" "In my opinion, your worship," said the gardener Ephraim, setting the samovar on the table, "it was nobody but Nicholas who did this dirty trick!" "Quite possible," said Psyekoff. "And who is Nicholas?"
After resting awhile and considering, you carried him across the fence. Then you entered the road. After that comes the dam. Near the dam, a peasant frightened you. Well, what is the matter with you?" "I am suffocating!" replied Psyekoff. "Very well have it so. Only let me go out, please!" They led Psyekoff away. "At last! He has confessed!" cried Chubikoff, stretching himself luxuriously.
Psyekoff is shy, timid, an all- round coward. And Nicholas would not know how to smother with a pillow. His sort use an ax 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.
Of course you were here last Saturday evening?" "Yes! I had supper with Marcus Ivanovitch about ten o'clock." "And afterwards?" "Afterwards afterwards Really, I do not remember," stammered Psyekoff. "I had a good deal to drink at supper. I don't remember when or where I went to sleep. Why are you all looking at me like that, as if I was the murderer?" "Where were you when you woke up?"
Dukovski looked at him attentively, noted his confusion, and started. He noticed that the director had dark blue trousers, which he had not observed before. The trousers reminded him of the dark blue threads found on the burdock. Chubikoff in his turn glanced suspiciously at Psyekoff. "Go!" he said to Nicholas. "And now permit me to put a question to you, Mr. Psyekoff.
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