Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com the rag. What sort of rag was it, cloth or linen?’
‘Goodness only knows what it was. Wait a bit... I believe I
didn’t tear it off anything. It was a bit of calico.... I believe I
sewed it up in a cap of my landlady’s.’
‘In your landlady’s cap?’
‘Yes. I took it from her.’
‘How did you get it?’
‘You see, I remember once taking a cap for a rag, perhaps
to wipe my pen on. I took it without asking, because it was
a worthless rag. I tore it up, and I took the notes and sewed
them up in it. I believe it was in that very rag I sewed them.
An old piece of calico, washed a thousand times.’
‘And you remember that for certain now?’
‘I don’t know whether for certain. I think it was in the
cap. But, hang it, what does it matter?’
‘In that case your landlady will remember that the thing
was lost?’
‘No, she won’t, she didn’t miss it. It was an old rag, I tell
you, an old rag not worth a farthing.’
‘And where did you get the needle and thread?’
‘I’ll stop now. I won’t say any more. Enough of it!’ said
Mitya, losing his temper at last.
‘It’s strange that you should have so completely forgotten
where you threw the pieces in the market-place.’
‘Give orders for the market-place to be swept to-morrow,
and perhaps you’ll find it,’ said Mitya sneering. ‘Enough,
gentlemen, enough!’ he decided, in an exhausted voice. ‘I
see you don’t believe me! Not for a moment! It’s my fault,
not yours. I ought not to have been so ready. Why, why did I