now　have　gone　to　the　box　or　even　into　the　room　for　anything　in　the
  world。
  But　a　sort　of　blankness；　even　dreaminess　had　begun　by　degrees　to
  take　possession　of　him；　at　moments　he　forgot　himself；　or　rather；
  forgot　what　was　of　importance；　and　caught　at　trifles。　Glancing；
  however；　into　the　kitchen　and　seeing　a　bucket　half　full　of　water　on
  a　bench；　he　bethought　him　of　washing　his　hands　and　the　axe。　His
  hands　were　sticky　with　blood。　He　dropped　the　axe　with　the　blade　in　the
  water；　snatched　a　piece　of　soap　that　lay　in　a　broken　saucer　on　the
  window；　and　began　washing　his　hands　in　the　bucket。　When　they　were
  clean；　he　took　out　the　axe；　washed　the　blade　and　spent　a　long　time；
  about　three　minutes；　washing　the　wood　where　there　were　spots　of
  blood　rubbing　them　with　soap。　Then　he　wiped　it　all　with　some　linen
  that　was　hanging　to　dry　on　a　line　in　the　kitchen　and　then　he　was　a
  long　while　attentively　examining　the　axe　at　the　window。　There　was　no
  trace　left　on　it；　only　the　wood　was　still　damp。　He　carefully　hung
  the　axe　in　the　noose　under　his　coat。　Then　as　far　as　was　possible；　in
  the　dim　light　in　the　kitchen；　he　looked　over　his　overcoat；　his
  trousers　and　his　boots。　At　the　first　glance　there　seemed　to　be　nothing
  but　stains　on　the　boots。　He　wetted　the　rag　and　rubbed　the　boots。　But
  he　knew　he　was　not　looking　thoroughly；　that　there　might　be　something
  quite　noticeable　that　he　was　overlooking。　He　stood　in　the　middle　of
  the　room；　lost　in　thought。　Dark　agonising　ideas　rose　in　his　mind…
  the　idea　that　he　was　mad　and　that　at　that　moment　he　was　incapable　of
  reasoning；　of　protecting　himself；　that　he　ought　perhaps　to　be　doing
  something　utterly　different　from　what　he　was　now　doing。　〃Good　God！〃　he
  muttered　〃I　must　fly；　fly；〃　and　he　rushed　into　the　entry。　But　here　a
  shock　of　terror　awaited　him　such　as　he　had　never　known　before。
  He　stood　and　gazed　and　could　not　believe　his　eyes：　the　door；　the
  outer　door　from　the　stairs；　at　which　he　had　not　long　before　waited　and
  rung；　was　standing　unfastened　and　at　least　six　inches　open。　No　lock；
  no　bolt；　all　the　time；　all　that　time！　The　old　woman　had　not　shut　it
  after　him　perhaps　as　a　precaution。　But；　good　God！　Why；　he　had　seen
  Lizaveta　afterwards！　And　how　could　he；　how　could　he　have　failed　to
  reflect　that　she　must　have　come　in　somehow！　She　could　not　have　come
  through　the　wall！
  He　dashed　to　the　door　and　fastened　the　latch。
  〃But　no；　the　wrong　thing　again。　I　must　get　away；　get　away。。。。〃
  He　unfastened　the　latch；　opened　the　door　and　began　listening　on
  the　staircase。
  He　listened　a　long　time。　Somewhere　far　away；　it　might　be　in　the
  gateway；　two　voices　were　loudly　and　shrilly　shouting；　quarrelling
  and　scolding。　〃What　are　they　about？〃　He　waited　patiently。　At　last
  all　was　still；　as　though　suddenly　cut　off；　they　had　separated。　He
  was　meaning　to　go　out；　but　suddenly；　on　the　floor　below；　a　door　was
  noisily　opened　and　some　one　began　going　downstairs　humming　a　tune。
  〃How　is　it　they　all　make　such　a　noise！〃　flashed　through　his　mind。　Once
  more　he　closed　the　door　and　waited。　At　last　all　was　still；　not　a
  soul　stirring。　He　was　just　taking　a　step　towards　the　stairs　when　he
  heard　fresh　footsteps。
  The　steps　sounded　very　far　off；　at　the　very　bottom　of　the　stairs；
  but　he　remembered　quite　clearly　and　distinctly　that　from　the　first
  sound　he　began　for　some　reason　to　suspect　that　this　was　some　one
  coming　there；　to　the　fourth　floor；　to　the　old　woman。　Why？　Were　the
  sounds　somehow　peculiar；　significant？　The　steps　were　heavy；　even　and
  unhurried。　Now　he　had　passed　the　first　floor；　now　he　was　mounting
  higher；　it　was　growing　more　and　more　distinct！　He　could　hear　his　heavy
  breathing。　And　now　the　third　storey　had　been　reached。　Coming　here！　And
  it　seemed　to　him　all　at　once　that　he　was　turned　to　stone；　that　it
  was　like　a　dream　in　which　one　is　being　pursued；　nearly　caught　and　will
  be　killed；　and　is　rooted　to　the　spot　and　cannot　even　move　one's　arms。
  At　last　when　the　unknown　was　mounting　to　the　fourth　floor；　he
  suddenly　started；　and　succeeded　in　slipping　neatly　and　quickly　back
  into　the　flat　and　closing　the　door　behind　him。　Then　he　took　the　hook
  and　softly；　noiselessly；　fixed　it　in　the　catch。　Instinct　helped　him。
  When　he　had　done　this；　he　crouched　holding　his　breath；　by　the　door。
  The　unknown　visitor　was　by　now　also　at　the　door。　They　were　now
  standing　opposite　one　another；　as　he　had　just　before　been　standing
  with　the　old　woman；　when　the　door　divided　them　and　he　was　listening。
  The　visitor　panted　several　times。　〃He　must　be　a　big；　fat　man；〃
  thought　Raskolnikov；　squeezing　the　axe　in　his　hand。　It　seemed　like　a
  dream　indeed。　The　visitor　took　hold　of　the　bell　and　rang　loudly。
  As　soon　as　the　tin　bell　tinkled；　Raskolnikov　seemed　to　be　aware　of
  something　moving　in　the　room。　For　some　seconds　he　listened　quite
  seriously。　The　unknown　rang　again；　waited　and　suddenly　tugged
  violently　and　impatiently　at　the　handle　of　the　door。　Raskolnikov　gazed
  in　horror　at　the　hook　shaking　in　its　fastening；　and　in　blank　terror
  expected　every　minute　that　the　fastening　would　be　pulled　out。　It
  certainly　did　seem　possible；　so　violently　was　he　shaking　it。　He　was
  tempted　to　hold　the　fastening；　but　he　might　be　aware　of　it。　A
  giddiness　came　over　him　again。　〃I　shall　fall　down！〃　flashed　through
  his　mind；　but　the　unknown　began　to　speak　and　he　recovered　himself　at
  once。
  〃What's　up？　Are　they　asleep　or　murdered？　D…damn　them！〃　he　bawled
  in　a　thick　voice；　〃Hey；　Alyona　Ivanovna；　old　witch！　Lizaveta　Ivanovna；
  hey；　my　beauty！　open　the　door！　Oh；　damn　them！　Are　they　asleep　or
  what？〃
  And　again；　enraged；　he　tugged　with　all　his　might　a　dozen　times　at
  the　bell。　He　must　certainly　be　a　man　of　authority　and　an　intimate
  acquaintance。
  At　this　moment　light　hurried　steps　were　heard　not　far　off；　on　the
  stairs。　Some　one　else　was　approaching。　Raskolnikov　had　not　heard
  them　at　first。
  〃You　don't　say　there's　no　one　at　home；〃　the　new…comer　cried　in　a
  cheerful；　ringing　voice；　addressing　the　first　visitor；　who　still
  went　on　pulling　the　bell。　〃Good　evening；　Koch。〃
  〃From　his　voice　he　must　be　quite　young；〃　thought　Raskolnikov。
  〃Who　the　devil　can　tell？　I've　almost　broken　the　lock；〃　answered
  Koch。　〃But　how　do　you　come　to　know　me？
  〃Why！　The　day　before　yesterday　I　beat　you　three　times　running　at
  billiards　at　Gambrinus'。〃
  〃Oh！〃
  〃So　they　are　not　at　home？　That's　queer？　It's　awfully　stupid
  though。　Where　could　the　old　woman　have　gone？　I've　come　on　business。〃
  〃Yes；　and　I　have　business　with　her；　too。〃
  〃Well；　what　can　we　do？　Go　back；　I　suppose；　Aie…aie！　And　I　was　hoping
  to　get　some　money！〃　cried　the　young　man。
  〃We　must　give　it　up；　of　course；　but　what　did　she　fix　this　time
  for？　The　old　witch　fixed　the　time　for　me　to　come　herself。　It's　out
  of　my　way。　And　where　the　devil　she　can　have　got　to；　I　can't　make
  out。　She　sits　here　from　year's　end　to　year's　end；　the　old　hag；　her
  legs　are　bad　and　yet　here　all　of　a　sudden　she　is　out　for　a　walk！〃
  〃Hadn't　we　better　ask　the　porter？〃
  〃What？〃
  〃Where　she's　gone　and　when　she'll　be　back。〃
  〃Hm。。。。　Damn　it　all！。。。　We　might　ask。。。。　But　you　know　she　never　does
  go　anywhere。〃
  And　he　once　more　tugged　at　the　door…handle。
  〃Damn　it　all。　There's　nothing　to　be　done；　we　must　go！〃
  〃Stay！〃　cried　the　young　man　sudd