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When he was within ten paces he recognised him and was

frightened; it was the same man with stooping shoulders in the

long coat. Raskolnikov followed him at a distance; his heart was

beating; they went down a turning; the man still did not look

round. "Does he know I am following him?" thought Raskolnikov.

The man went into the gateway of a big house. Raskolnikov

hastened to the gate and looked in to see whether he would look

round and sign to him. In the court-yard the man did turn round

and again seemed to beckon him. Raskolnikov at once followed him

into the yard, but the man was gone. He must have gone up the

first staircase. Raskolnikov rushed after him. He heard slow

measured steps two flights above. The staircase seemed strangely

familiar. He reached the window on the first floor; the moon

shone through the panes with a melancholy and mysterious light;

then he reached the second floor. Bah! this is the flat where the

painters were at work...