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Updated: May 23, 2025
There followed an oppressive, painful silence that lasted for some five minutes. Dyukovsky held his tongue, and kept his piercing eyes on Psyekov's face, which gradually turned pale. The silence was broken by Tchubikov. "We must go to the big house," he said, "and speak to the deceased's sister, Marya Ivanovna. She may give us some evidence."
Do understand, you unreasonable old man!" The examining magistrate frowned and irresolutely put out his hand towards his hat. "Well, the devil take you!" he said, "let us go." It was already dark when the examining magistrate's waggonette rolled up to the police superintendent's door. "What brutes we are!" said Tchubikov, as he reached for the bell. "We are disturbing people."
And when will you learn not to put your theories forward? You had better take a little of the grass for analysis instead of arguing!" After making the inspection and taking a plan of the locality they went off to the steward's to write a report and have lunch. At lunch they talked. "Watch, money, and everything else . . . are untouched," Tchubikov began the conversation.
"The things that are going on in the world," he said, greeting the examining magistrate with a melancholy smile. "Austria is at it again . . . and Gladstone, too, in a way. . . ." Tchubikov flung his hat under the table and began to tremble. "You devil of a skeleton! Don't bother me! I've told you a thousand times over, don't bother me with your politics! It's not the time for politics!
My Yevgraf Kuzmitch is not at home. . . . He is staying at the priest's. But we can get on without him. Sit down. Have you come from an inquiry?" "Yes. . . . We have broken one of our springs, you know," began Tchubikov, going into the drawing-room and sitting down in an easy-chair. "Take her by surprise at once and overwhelm her," Dyukovsky whispered to him.
"A spring .. . er . . . yes. . . . We just drove up. . . ." "Overwhelm her, I tell you! She will guess if you go drawing it out." "Oh, do as you like, but spare me," muttered Tchubikov, getting up and walking to the window. "I can't! You cooked the mess, you eat it!" "Yes, the spring," Dyukovsky began, going up to the superintendent's wife and wrinkling his long nose.
Nikolashka, a lanky young man with a long pock-marked nose and a hollow chest, wearing a reefer jacket that had been his master's, came into Psyekov's room and bowed down to the ground before Tchubikov. His face looked sleepy and showed traces of tears. He was drunk and could hardly stand up. "Where is your master?" Tchubikov asked him. "He's murdered, your honour."
The blackguards murdered him, and dragged the dead body out of the window." Tchubikov went to the window, drew the curtain aside, and cautiously pushed the window. The window opened. "It opens, so it was not fastened. . . . H'm there are traces on the window-sill. Do you see? Here is the trace of a knee. . . . Some one climbed out. . . . We shall have to inspect the window thoroughly."
"At last he has admitted it!" said Tchubikov, stretching at his ease. "He has given himself away! How neatly I caught him there." "And he didn't deny the woman in black!" said Dyukovsky, laughing. "I am awfully worried over that Swedish match, though! I can't endure it any longer. Good-bye! I am going!" Dyukovsky put on his cap and went off. Tchubikov began interrogating Akulka.
"That boot bears out my contention that he was murdered while he was taking off his boots before going to bed. He had taken off one boot, the other, that is, this boot he had only managed to get half off. While he was being dragged and shaken the boot that was only half on came off of itself. . . ." "What powers of deduction! Just look at him!" Tchubikov jeered. "He brings it all out so pat!
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