..." Councillor Mikulin
uttered a series of broken sentences. Instead of finishing them he
glanced down his beard. It was a deliberate curtailment which somehow
made the phrases more impressive. But he could talk fluently enough, as
became apparent when changing his tone to persuasiveness he went on: "By
listening to you as I did, I think I have proved that I do not regard
our intercourse as strictly official. In fact, I don't want it to have
that character at all.... Oh yes! I admit that the request for your
presence here had an official form. But I put it to you whether it was a
form which would have been used to secure the attendance of a...."
"Suspect," exclaimed Razumov, looking straight into the official's
eyes. They were big with heavy eyelids, and met his boldness with a dim,
steadfast gaze. "A suspect." The open repetition of that word which
had been haunting all his waking hours gave Razumov a strange sort of
satisfaction. Councillor Mikulin shook his head slightly. "Surely you do
know that I've had my rooms searched by the police?"
"I was about to say a 'misunderstood person,' when you interrupted me,"
insinuated quietly Councillor Mikulin.
Razumov smiled without bitterness. The renewed sense of his intellectual
superiority sustained him in the hour of danger.
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