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Updated: June 1, 2025
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 traveling, and the talkative Dukovski remained silent, to fall in with the elder man's humor.
She carried me off and locked me up, and well, I am living here, in the deserted bath house, like a hermit. I am fed. Next week I think I'll try to get out. I'm tired of it here!" "Incomprehensible!" said Dukovski. "What is incomprehensible about it?" "Incomprehensible! For Heaven's sake, how did your boot get into the garden?" "What boot?"
The body drew in a quick breath and stirred. Dukovski stuck his elbow into it. It raised a hand, stretched itself, and lifted its head. "Who is sneaking in here?" asked a hoarse, heavy bass. "What do you want?" Dukovski raised the candle to the face of the unknown, and cried out.
In the darkness appeared the shadowy outlines of trees, and among the trees a little house with a crooked chimney. "That is the bath house," said Olga Petrovna. "But I implore you, do not tell my brother! If you do, I'll never hear the end of it!" Going up to the bath house, Chubikoff and Dukovski saw a huge padlock on the door.
When they reached the garden they began by examining the grass. The grass under the window was crushed and trampled. A bushy burdock growing under the window close to the wall was also trampled. Dukovski succeeded in finding on it some broken twigs and a piece of cotton wool. On the upper branches were found some fine hairs of dark blue wool. "What color was his last suit?"
Under this same lilac bush was found a top boot, which turned out to be the fellow of the boot already found in the bedroom. "That is a blood stain made some time ago," said Dukovski, examining the spot. At the word "blood" the doctor rose, and going over lazily, looked at the spot. "Yes, it is blood!" he muttered.
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.
"That shows he wasn't strangled, if there was blood," said Chubikoff, looking sarcastically at Dukovski. "They strangled him in the bedroom; and here, fearing he might come round again, they struck him a blow with some sharp-pointed instrument. The stain under the bush proves that he lay there a considerable time, while they were looking about for some way of carrying him out of the garden.
Looking under the bed, the inspector saw a couple of dozen empty bottles, an old straw hat, and a quart of vodka. Under the table lay one top boot, covered with dust. Casting a glance around the room, the magistrate frowned and grew red in the face. "Scoundrels!" he muttered, clenching his fists. "And where is Marcus Ivanovitch?" asked Dukovski in a low voice. "Mind your own business!"
"I don't know, your worship," he said. "I was drunk and don't remember." "An alibi!" whispered Dukovski, smiling, and rubbing his hands. "So-o! And why is there blood under the master's window?" Nicholas jerked his head up and considered. "Hurry up!" said the Captain of Police. "Right away! That blood doesn't amount to anything, your worship! I was cutting a chicken's throat.
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