...."

"No," interrupted Razumov without haste. "I had made no plans of any
sort."

"You just simply walked away?" she struck in.

He bowed his head in slow assent. "Simply--yes." He had gradually
released his hold on the bar of the gate, as though he had acquired the
conviction that no random shot could knock him over now. And suddenly he
was inspired to add, "The snow was coming down very thick, you know."

She had a slight appreciative movement of the head, like an expert
in such enterprises, very interested, capable of taking every point
professionally. Razumov remembered something he had heard.

"I turned into a narrow side street, you understand," he went on
negligently, and paused as if it were not worth talking about. Then he
remembered another detail and dropped it before her, like a disdainful
dole to her curiosity.

"I felt inclined to lie down and go to sleep there."

She clicked her tongue at that symptom, very struck indeed. Then--

"But the notebook! The amazing notebook, man. You don't mean to say you
had put it in your pocket beforehand!" she cried.

Razumov gave a start. It might have been a sign of impatience.

"I went home. Straight home to my rooms," he said distinctly.

"The coolness of the man! You dared?"

"Why not? I assure you I was perfectly calm. Ha! Calmer than I am now
perhaps."

"I like you much better as you are now than when you indulge that bitter
vein of yours, Razumov. And nobody in the house saw you return--eh? That
might have appeared queer."

"No one," Razumov said firmly. "Dvornik, landlady, girl, all out of the
way. I went up like a shadow. It was a murky morning. The stairs were
dark. I glided up like a phantom. Fate? Luck? What do you think?"

"I just see it!" The eyes of the woman revolutionist snapped darkly.
"Well--and then you considered...."

Razumov had it all ready in his head.

"No. I looked at my watch, since you want to know. There was just time.
I took that notebook, and ran down the stairs on tiptoe. Have you ever
listened to the pit-pat of a man running round and round the shaft of
a deep staircase? They have a gaslight at the bottom burning night
and day. I suppose it's gleaming down there now.... The sound dies
out--the flame winks...."

He noticed the vacillation of surprise passing over the steady curiosity
of the black eyes fastened on his face as if the woman revolutionist
received the sound of his voice into her pupils instead of her ea