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flat； that they were greatly astonished at finding it unlocked； as the
door had just been fastened； that by now they were looking at the
bodies； that before another minute had passed they would guess and
completely realise that the murderer had just been there； and had
succeeded in hiding somewhere； slipping by them and escaping。 They
would guess most likely that he had been in the empty flat； while they
were going upstairs。 And meanwhile he dared not quicken his pace much；
though the next turning was still nearly a hundred yards away。 〃Should
he slip through some gateway and wait somewhere in an unknown
street？ No； hopeless！ Should he fling away the axe？ Should he take a
cab？ Hopeless； hopeless！〃
At last he reached the turning。 He turned down it more dead than
alive。 Here he was half way to safety； and here understood it； it
was less risky because there was a great crowd of people； and he was
lost in it like a grain of sand。 But all he had suffered had so
weakened him that he could scarcely move。 Perspiration ran down him in
drops； his neck was all wet。 〃My word； he has been going it！〃 some one
shouted at him when he came out on the canal bank。
He was only dimly conscious of himself now； and the farther he
went the worse it was。 He remembered however； that on coming out on to
the canal bank； he was alarmed at finding few people there and so
being more conspicuous； and he had thought of turning back。 Though
he was almost falling from fatigue； he went a long way round so as
to get home from quite a different direction。
He was not fully conscious when he passed through the gateway of his
house！ he was already on the staircase before he recollected the
axe。 And yet he had a very grave problem before him； to put it back
and to escape observation as far as possible in doing so。 He was of
course incapable of reflecting that it might perhaps be far better not
to restore the axe at all； but to drop it later on in somebody's yard。
But it all happened fortunately； the door of the porter's room was
closed but not locked； so that it seemed most likely that the porter
was at home。 But he had so completely lost all power of reflection
that he walked straight to the door and opened it。 If the porter had
asked him 〃What do you want？〃 he would perhaps have simply handed
him the axe。 But again the porter was not at home； and he succeeded in
putting the axe back under the bench； and even covering it with the
chunk of wood as before。 He met no one； not a soul； afterwards on
the way to his room； the landlady's door was shut。 When he was in
his room； he flung himself on the sofa just as he was… he did not
sleep； but sank into blank forgetfulness。 If any one had come into his
room then； he would have jumped up at once and screamed。 Scraps and
shreds of thoughts were simply swarming in his brain； but he could not
catch at one； he could not rest on one； in spite of all his
efforts。。。。
PART TWO
Chapter One
SO HE lay a very long while。 Now and then he seemed to wake up；
and at such moments he noticed that it was far into the night； but
it did not occur to him to get up。 At last he noticed that it was
beginning to get light。 He was lying on his back； still dazed from his
recent oblivion。 Fearful； despairing cries rose shrilly from the
street； sounds which he heard every night； indeed； under his window
after two o'clock。 They woke him up now。
〃Ah！ the drunken men are coming out of the taverns；〃 he thought；
〃it's past two o'clock；〃 and at once he leaped up； as though some
one had pulled him from the sofa。
〃What！ Past two o'clock！〃
He sat down on the sofa… and instantly recollected everything！ All
at once； in one flash； he recollected everything。
For the first moment he thought he was going mad。 A dreadful chill
came over him； but the chill was from the fever that had begun long
before in his sleep。 Now he was suddenly taken with violent shivering；
so that his teeth chattered and all his limbs were shaking。 He
opened the door and began listening； everything in the house was
asleep。 With amazement he gazed at himself and everything in the
room around him； wondering how he could have come in the night
before without fastening the door； and have flung himself on the
sofa without undressing； without even taking his hat off。 It had
fallen off and was lying on the floor near his pillow。
〃If any one had come in； what would he have thought？ That I'm
drunk but。。。〃
He rushed to the window。 There was light enough； and he began
hurriedly looking himself all over from head to foot； all his clothes；
were there no traces？ But there was no doing it like that； shivering
with cold； he began taking off everything and looking over again。 He
turned everything over to the last threads and rags； and mistrusting
himself； went through his search three times。
But there seemed to be nothing； no trace； except in one place； where
some thick drops of congealed blood were clinging to the frayed edge
of his trousers。 He picked up a big claspknife and cut off the
frayed threads。 There seemed to be nothing more。
Suddenly he remembered that the purse and the things he had taken
out of the old woman's box were still in his pockets！ He had not
thought till then of taking them out and hiding them！ He had not
even thought of them while he was examining his clothes！ What next？
Instantly he rushed to take them out； and fling them on the table。
When he had pulled out everything； and turned the pocket inside out to
be sure there was nothing left； he carried the whole heap to the
corner。 The paper had come off the bottom of the wall and hung there
in tatters。 He began stuffing all the things into the hole under the
paper： 〃Th