Page 797 - the-brothers-karamazov

he broke off suddenly.
‘What makes you think that?’ observed Nikolay Parfe-
novitch.
‘You don’t believe one word — that’s why! I understand,
of course, that I have come to the vital point. The old man’s
lying there now with his skull broken, while I — after dra-
matically describing how I wanted to kill him, and how I
snatched up the pestle — I suddenly run away from the
window. A romance! Poetry! As though one could believe a
fellow on his word. Ha ha! You are scoffers, gentlemen!’
And he swung round on his chair so that it creaked.
‘And did you notice,’ asked the prosecutor suddenly, as
though not observing Mitya’s excitement, ‘did you notice
when you ran away from the window, whether the door into
the garden was open?’
‘No, it was not open.’
‘It was not?’
‘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 father’s murderer un-
doubtedly went in at that door, and, having accomplished
the crime, went out again by the same door,’ the prosecu-
tor pronounced deliberately, as though chiselling out each
word separately. ‘That is perfectly clear. The murder was

The Brothers Karamazov