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Nikolay's confession was an actual fact。 The consequences of this fact
were clear to him at once； its falsehood could not fail to be
discovered； and then they would be after him again。 Till then； at
least； he was free and must do something for himself； for the danger
was imminent。
But how imminent？ His position gradually became clear to him。
Remembering； sketchily； the main outlines of his recent scene with
Porfiry； he could not help shuddering again with horror。 Of course； he
did not yet know all Porfiry's aims； he could not see into all his
calculations。 But he had already partly shown his hand； and no one
knew better than Raskolnikov how terrible Porfiry's 〃lead〃 had been
for him。 A little more and he might have given himself away
completely； circumstantially。 Knowing his nervous temperament and from
the first glance seeing through him； Porfiry； though playing a bold
game； was bound to win。 There's no denying that Raskolnikov had
compromised himself seriously； but no facts had come to light as
yet； there was nothing positive。 But was he taking a true view of
the position？ Wasn't he mistaken？ What had Porfiry been trying to
get at？ Had he really some surprise prepared for him？ And what was it？
Had he really been expecting something or not？ How would they have
parted if it had not been for the unexpected appearance of Nikolay？
Porfiry had shown almost all his cards… of course； he had risked
something in showing them… and if he had really had anything up his
sleeve （Raskolnikov reflected）； he would have shown that； too。 What
was that 〃surprise〃？ Was it a joke？ Had it meant anything？ Could it
have concealed anything like a fact； a piece of positive evidence？ His
yesterday's visitor？ What had become of him？ Where was he to…day？ If
Porfiry really had any evidence； it must be connected with him。。。。
He sat on the sofa with his elbows on his knees and his face
hidden in his hands。 He was still shivering nervously。 At last he
got up； took his cap； thought a minute； and went to the door。
He had a sort of presentiment that for to…day； at least； he might
consider himself out of danger。 He had a sudden sense almost of joy；
he wanted to make haste to Katerina Ivanovna's。 He would be too late
for the funeral； of course； but he would be in time for the memorial
dinner； and there at once he would see Sonia。
He stood still； thought a moment； and a suffering smile came for a
moment on to his lips。
〃To…day！ To…day；〃 he repeated to himself。 〃Yes； to…day！ So it must
be。。。。〃
But as he was about to open the door； it began opening of itself。 He
started and moved back。 The door opened gently and slowly； and there
suddenly appeared a figure… yesterday's visitor from underground。
The man stood in the doorway； looked at Raskolnikov without
speaking； and took a step forward into the room。 He was exactly the
same as yesterday； the same figure； the same dress； but there was a
great change in his face； he looked dejected and sighed deeply。 If
he had only put his hand up to his cheek and leaned his head on one
side he would have looked exactly like a peasant woman。
〃What do you want？〃 asked Raskolnikov； numb with terror。 The man was
still silent； but suddenly he bowed down almost to the ground；
touching it with his finger。
〃What is it？〃 cried Raskolnikov。
〃I have sinned；〃 the man articulated softly。
〃By evil thoughts。〃
They looked at one another。
〃I was vexed。 When you came； perhaps in drink； and bade the
porters go to the police station and asked about the blood； I was
vexed that they let you go and took you for drunken。 I was so vexed
that I lost my sleep。 And remembering the address we came here
yesterday and asked for you。。。。〃
〃Who came？〃 Raskolnikov interrupted； instantly beginning to
recollect。
〃I did； I've wronged you。〃
〃Then you came from that house？〃
〃I was standing at the gate with them。。。 don't you remember？ We have
carried on our trade in that house for years past。 We cure and prepare
hides； we take work home。。。 most of all I was vexed。。。。〃
And the whole scene of the day before yesterday in the gateway
came clearly before Raskolnikov's mind； he recollected that there
had been several people there besides the porters； women among them。
He remembered one voice had suggested taking him straight to the
police station。 He could not recall the face of the speaker； and
even now he did not recognise it； but he remembered that he had turned
round and made him some answer。。。。
So this was the solution of yesterday's horror。 The most awful
thought was that he had been actually almost lost； had almost done for
himself on account of such a trivial circumstance。 So this man could
tell nothing except his asking about the flat and the blood stains。 So
Porfiry； too； had nothing but that delirium； no facts but this
psychology which cuts both ways； nothing positive。 So if no more facts
come to light （and they must not； they must not！） then。。。 then what
can they do to him？ How can they convict him； even if they arrest him？
And Porfiry then had only just heard about the flat and had not
known about it before。
〃Was it you who told Porfiry。。。 that I'd been there？〃 he cried；
struck by a sudden idea。
〃What Porfiry？〃
〃The head of the detective department？〃
〃Yes。 The porters did not go there； but I went。〃
〃To…day？〃
〃I got there two minutes before you。 And I heard； I heard it all；
how he worried you。〃
〃Where？ What？ When？〃
〃Why； in the next room。 I was sitting there all the time。〃
PART FIVE
Chapter One
THE MORNING that followed the fateful interview with Dounia and
her mother brought sobering influences to bear on Pyotr Petrovitch。
Intensely unpleasant as it was； he was forced little by little to
accept as a fact beyond recall what had seemed to him only the day
before fantastic and incredible。 The black snake of wounded vanity had
been gnawing at his heart all night。 When he got out of bed； Pyotr
Petrovitch immediately looked in the looking…glass。 He was afraid that
he had jaundice。 However his health seemed unimpaired so far； and
looking at his noble； clear…skinned countenance which had grown
fattish of late； Pyotr Petrovitch for an instant was positively
comforted in the conviction that he would find another bride and；
perhaps； even a better one。 But coming back to the sense of his
present position； he turned aside and spat vigorously； which excited a
sarcastic smile in Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov； the young friend
with whom he was staying。 That smile Pyotr Petrovitch noticed； and
at once set it down against his young friend's account。 He had set
down a good many points against him of late。 His anger was redoubled
when he reflected that he ought not to have told Andrey Semyonovitch
about the result of yesterday's interview。 That was the second mistake
he had made in temper； through impulsiveness and irritability。。。。
Moreover； all that morning on