It was
obvious that she did not make much of the story--unless, indeed, this
was the perfection of duplicity. "A dark young man," she explained
further. "Never seen there before, never seen afterwards. Why are you
smiling, Razumov?"
"At the devil being still young after all these ages," he answered
composedly. "But who was able to describe him, since the victim, you
say, was dead-drunk at the time?"
"Oh! The eating-house keeper has described him. An overbearing,
swarthy young man in a student's cloak, who came rushing in, demanded
Ziemianitch, beat him furiously, and rushed away without a word, leaving
the eating-house keeper paralysed with astonishment."
"Does he, too, believe it was the devil?"
"That I can't say. I am told he's very reserved on the matter. Those
sellers of spirits are great scoundrels generally. I should think he
knows more of it than anybody."
"Well, and you, Sophia Antonovna, what's your theory?" asked Razumov
in a tone of great interest. "Yours and your informant's, who is on the
spot."
"I agree with him. Some police-hound in disguise. Who else could beat a
helpless man so unmercifully? As for the rest, if they were out that day
on every trail, old and new, it is probable enough that they might
have thought it just as well to have Ziemianitch at hand for more
information, or for identification, or what not.
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