umov looked at the famous slayer of gendarmes in
silent disgust.

"And what are you?" he said, very low, then shut his eyes, and rested
the back of his head against the wall.

"It would be better for you to depart now." Razumov heard a mild, sad
voice, and opened his eyes. The gentle speaker was an elderly man, with
a great brush of fine hair making a silvery halo all round his
keen, intelligent face. "Peter Ivanovitch shall be informed of your
confession--and you shall be directed...."

Then, turning to Nikita, nicknamed Necator, standing by, he appealed to
him in a murmur--

"What else can we do? After this piece of sincerity he cannot be
dangerous any longer."

The other muttered, "Better make sure of that before we let him go.
Leave that to me. I know how to deal with such gentlemen."

He exchanged meaning glances with two or three men, who nodded slightly,
then turning roughly to Razumov, "You have heard? You are not wanted
here. Why don't you get out?"

The Laspara girl on guard rose, and pulled the chair out of the way
unemotionally. She gave a sleepy stare to Razumov, who started, looked
round the room and passed slowly by her as if struck by some sudden
thought.

"I beg you to observe," he said, already on the landing, "that I had
only to hold my tongue. To-day, of all days since I came amongst you,
I was made safe, and to-day I made myself free from falsehood, from
remorse--independent of every single human being on this earth."

He turned his back on the room, and walked towards the stairs, but, at
the violent crash of the door behind him, he looked over his shoulder
and saw that Nikita, with three others, had followed him out. "They are
going to kill me, after all," he thought.

Before he had time to turn round and confront them fairly, they set
on him with a rush. He was driven headlong against the wall. "I wonder
how," he completed his thought. Nikita cried, with a shrill laugh right
in his face, "We shall make you harmless. You wait a bit."

Razumov did not struggle. The three men held him pinned against
the wall, while Nikita, taking up a position a little on one side,
deliberately swung off his enormous arm. Razumov, looking for a knife
in his hand, saw it come at him open, unarmed, and received a tremendous
blow on the side of his head over his ear. At the same time he heard a
faint, dull detonating sound, as if some one had fired a pistol on the
other side of the wall. A raging fury awok