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Updated: May 27, 2025
And the humble Psyekoff was not without some slight share in the matter. His dark blue breeches, his agitation, his lying behind the stove in terror after the murder, his alibi and Aquilina " "'Grind away, Emilian; it's your week! So, according to you, whoever knew Aquilina is the murderer! Hothead! You ought to be sucking a bottle, and not handling affairs!
They got scared, and went off like the wind toward Makareff's cabbage garden. Strike me dead, if they weren't carrying away the master!" That same day, toward evening, Psyekoff and Nicholas were arrested and brought under guard to the district town. In the town they were committed to the cells of the prison. A fortnight passed. It was morning.
The magistrate Nicholas Yermolaïyevitch 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 told the dear man, but he wouldn't listen! Dissipation doesn't bring any good!" "Thanks to Ephraim," said Psyekoff; "but for him, we would never have guessed. He was the first to guess that something was wrong. He comes to me this morning, and says: 'Why is the master so long getting up?
It was not Nicholas that struck it; it was not Psyekoff, for neither of them had any matches when they were examined; it was the third person, Maria Ivanovna. I will prove it to you. Just give me permission to go through the district to find out." "That's enough! Sit down. Let us go on with the examination." Dukovski sat down at a little table, and plunged his long nose in a bundle of papers.
While making this announcement the young man was white and terribly agitated. His hands trembled and his eyes were full of terror. "Whom have I the honor of addressing?" asked the inspector. "Psyekoff, Lieutenant Klausoff's agent; agriculturist and mechanician!"
"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?"
The young man had changed greatly during the last few days. He had grown thin and pale, and looked haggard. His eyes had an apathetic expression. "Sit down, Psyekoff," said Chubikoff. "I hope that today you are going to be reasonable, and will not tell lies, as you did before.
"It is quite clear that the scoundrels got in by the window!" said Psyekoff as they examined the door. They went to the garden, into which the bedroom window opened. The window looked dark and ominous. It was covered by a faded green curtain. One corner of the curtain was slightly turned up, which made it possible to look into the bedroom.
And the humble Psyekoff was not without some slight share in the matter. His dark blue breeches, his agitation, his lying behind the stove in terror after the murder, his alibi and Aquilina " "'Grind away, Emilian; it's your week! So, according to you, whoever knew Aquilina is the murderer! Hot-head! You ought to be sucking a bottle, and not handling affairs!
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