Ordynov found himself wondering whether all this were not a dream. Yet whenever he tried to think the matter out the blood came mounting to his head, and the veins in his temples would begin to swell. Presently he relaxed his hold of the nail, and, rising from the bed, and staggering, and hardly knowing what he did, walked like a somnambulist to the door of his landlord’s room. There he fell headlong, and, the rusty lock yielding with a crash, Ordynov found himself actually in his landlord’s chamber. He had just time to see Katerina give a shudder, and spring up with a start. He had just time to mark the fury which blazed in the old man’s frowning, deepset eyes, as also the suddenness with which Murin’s figure suddenly became a thing of menace. Yes, he had just time to see Murin seize a revolver from the wall, and the gleam of its barrel as, with an unsteady hand that was unnerved by rage, the old man trained the muzzle full upon him. A shot rang out, and then a wild, unnatural cry. When the smoke cleared away a terrible spectacle met Ordynov’s gaze as, shaking with horror, he bent over the old man’s form. Murin was lying prone upon the floor—twisted with convulsions, his face distorted, and his lips white with foam. In a flash the younger man divined that his unfortunate landlord had been seized with a severe epileptic fit; wherefore he at once proceeded to help Katerina to tend him.

III

IT WAS A terrible night for all concerned. Early next morning, despite his weakness and his still lingering fever, Ordynov went out for a walk. In the courtyard he encountered the dvornik; but this time the Tartar removed his cap as soon as ever he caught sight of the young man, and stood looking at him with a curiosity which he was at no pains to conceal. Next, as though regretting having done so, he resumed his broom, but still continued to throw covert glances at Ordynov as the latter slowly approached him.

“Did you hear anything last night?” the younger man began.

“Yes,” replied the dvornik.

“What is the matter with that gentleman up there? What does he do?”

“You are his lodger, are you not? Well, then, you must find out these things for yourself. It is no business of mine.”

“Are you going to answer my questions?” cried Ordynov, almost beside himself with nervous irritation.

“Why, what have I done? It was your own fault. Why did you go and disturb the gentleman? Let me tell you that the coffin-maker who lodges below him is deaf; yet he heard everything. And his wife too is deaf; yet she heard everything. And in the other court, too, they heard everything. I shall have to go and fetch a policeman.”

“Well, I will go and fetch one too,” said Ordynov as he turned away towards the door of the yard.

“Do as you like; you are his lodger. . . . But wait a moment, sir; wait a moment.”