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"Don't be in a hurry about Mitka! A-ach! How was it you ran

downstairs like that at the time? The porters met you both!"

"It was to put them off the scent... I ran after Mitka," Nikolay

replied hurriedly, as though he had prepared the answer.

"I knew it!" cried Porfiry, with vexation. "It's not his own tale

he is telling," he muttered as though to himself, and suddenly

his eyes rested on Raskolnikov again.

He was apparently so taken up with Nikolay that for a moment he

had forgotten Raskolnikov. He was a little taken aback.

"My dear Rodion Romanovitch, excuse me!" he flew up to him, "this

won't do; I'm afraid you must go... it's no good your staying...

I will... you see, what a surprise!... Good-bye!"

And taking him by the arm, he showed him to the door.

"I suppose you didn't expect it?" said Raskolnikov who, though he

had not yet fully grasped the situation, had regained his

courage.

"You did not expect it either, my friend. See how your hand is

trembling! He-he!"