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"We've just been... having a drink together.... You talk about

pouring it into me!"

"By way of a fee! You profit by everything!" Raskolnikov laughed,

"it's all right, my dear boy," he added, slapping Zametov on the

shoulder. "I am not speaking from temper, but in a friendly way,

for sport, as that workman of yours said when he was scuffling

with Dmitri, in the case of the old woman...."

"How do you know about it?"

"Perhaps I know more about it than you do."

"How strange you are.... I am sure you are still very unwell. You

oughtn't to have come out."

"Oh, do I seem strange to you?"

"Yes. What are you doing, reading the papers?"

"Yes."

"There's a lot about the fires."

"No, I am not reading about the fires." Here he looked

mysteriously at Zametov; his lips were twisted again in a mocking

smile. "No, I am not reading about the fires," he went on,

winking at Zametov. "But confess now, my dear fellow, you're

awfully anxious to know what I am reading about?"