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It was shut. And who could open it? Bah! the door. Wait a bit! he seemed suddenly to bethink himself, and almost with a start: Why, did you find the door open? Yes, it was open. Why, who could have opened it if you did not open it yourselves? cried Mitya, greatly astonished. The door stood open, and your fathers murderer undoubtedly went in at that door, and, having accomplished the crime, went out again by the same door, the prosecutor pronounced deliberately, as though chiselling out each word separately. That is perfectly clear. The murder was committed in the room and not through the window; that is absolutely certain from the examination that has been made, from the position of the body, and everything. There can be no doubt of that circumstance. Mitya was absolutely dumbfounded. But thats utterly impossible! he cried, completely at a loss. I I didnt go in. I tell you positively, definitely, the door was shut the whole time I was in the garden, and when I ran out of the garden. I only stood at the window and saw him through the window. Thats all, thats all. I remember to the last minute. And if I didnt remember, it would be just the same. I know it, for no one knew the signals except Smerdyakov, and me, and the dead man. And he wouldnt have opened the door to any one in the world without the signals. Signals? What signals? asked the prosecutor, with greedy, almost hysterical, curiosity. He instantly lost all trace of his reserve and dignity. He asked the question with a sort of cringing timidity. He scented an important fact of which he had known nothing, and was already filled with dread that Mitya might be unwilling to disclose it. So you didnt know! Mitya winked at him with a malicious and mocking smile. What if I wont tell you? From whom could you find out? No one knew about the signals except my father, Smerdyakov, and me: that was all. Heaven knew, too, but it wont tell you. But its an interesting fact. Theres no knowing what you might build on it. Ha, ha! Take comfort, gentlemen, Ill reveal it. Youve some foolish idea in your hearts. You dont know the man you have to deal with! You have to do with a prisoner who gives evidence against himself, to his own damage! Yes, for Im a man of honour and youare not. The prosecutor swallowed this without a murmur. He was trembling with impatience to hear the new fact. Minutely and diffusely Mitya told them everything about the signals invented by Fyodor Pavlovitch for Smerdyakov. He told them exactly what every tap on the window meant, tapped the signals on the table, and when Nikolay Parfenovitch said that he supposed he, Mitya, had tapped the signal Grushenka has come, when he tapped to his father, he answered precisely that he had tapped that signal, that Grushenka had come. So now you can build up your tower, Mitya broke off, and again turned away from them contemptuously. So no one knew of the signals but your dead father, you, and the valet Smerdyakov? And no one else? Nikolay Parfenovitch inquired once more. Yes. The valet Smerdyakov, and heaven. Write down about heaven. That may be of use. Besides, you will need God yourselves. And they had already, of course, begun writing it down. But while they wrote, the prosecutor said suddenly, as though pitching on a new idea: |
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