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captain’s. She arrived only five minutes before Pyotr Ilyitch,
so that his story came, not as his own surmise and theory,
but as the direct conformation by a witness, of the theory
held by all, as to the identity of the criminal (a theory he
had in the bottom of his heart refused to believe till that
moment).
It was resolved to act with energy. The deputy police
inspector of the town was commissioned to take four wit-
nesses, to enter Fyodor Pavlovitch’s house and there to
open an inquiry on the spot, according to the regular forms,
which I will not go into here. The district doctor, a zealous
man, new to his work, almost insisted on accompanying the
police captain, the prosecutor, and the investigating lawyer.
I will note briefly that Fyodor Pavlovitch was found to be
quite dead, with his skull battered in. But with what? Most
likely with the same weapon with which Grigory had been
attacked. And immediately that weapon was found, Grig-
ory, to whom all possible medical assistance was at once
given, described in a weak and breaking voice how he had
been knocked down. They began looking with a lantern by
the fence and found the brass pestle dropped in a most con-
spicuous place on the garden path. There were no signs of
disturbance in the room where Fyodor Pavlovitch was ly-
ing. But by the bed, behind the screen, they picked up from
the floor a big and thick envelope with the inscription: ‘A
present of three thousand roubles for my angel Grushenka,
if she is willing to come.’ And below had been added by Fy-
odor Pavlovitch, ‘For my little chicken.’ There were three
seals of red sealing-wax on the envelope, but it had been