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And at eight o'clock this morning'--that was the third day, you

understand--'I saw Nikolay coming in, not sober, though not to

say very drunk--he could understand what was said to him. He sat

down on the bench and did not speak. There was only one stranger

in the bar and a man I knew asleep on a bench and our two boys.

"Have you seen Dmitri?" said I. "No, I haven't," said he. "And

you've not been here either?" "Not since the day before

yesterday," said he. "And where did you sleep last night?" "In

Peski, with the Kolomensky men." "And where did you get those

ear-rings?" I asked. "I found them in the street," and the way he

said it was a bit queer; he did not look at me. "Did you hear

what happened that very evening, at that very hour, on that same

staircase?" said I. "No," said he, "I had not heard," and all the

while he was listening, his eyes were staring out of his head and

he turned as white as chalk. I told him all about it and he took

his hat and began getting up.