“There's no fear of your trying to escape,” I said.
Urbenin thanked me, and after my departure he walked about the corridor; his door was no longer kept locked.
On leaving him I knocked at the door behind which Kuz'ma was seated.
“Well, have you bethought yourself yet?” I asked.
“No, sir,” a weak voice answered. “Let the Prosecutor come; I will tell him, but I won't tell you.”
“As you like!”
The next morning all was settled.
The watchman Egor came running to me and informed me that one-eyed Kuz'ma had been found in his bed dead. I hastened to the guard-house to assure myself of the fact. The strong, big muzhik, who but the day before was full of health and in order to get free had invented all sorts of tales, was as stark and cold as a stone.… I will not stop to describe the horror the guards and I felt; it will be understood by the reader. Kuz'ma was precious for me both as accuser and as witness, for the warders he was a prisoner for whose death or flight they would be severely punished.… Our horror was only increased when at the post-mortem examination it was discovered that he had died a violent death.… Kuz'ma had died from suffocation.… Once convinced that he had been suffocated, I began to search for the culprit, and I had not to search long.… He was near.…
“You scoundrel! It was not enough for you to kill your wife,” I said, “but you must take the life of the man who convicted you! And you continue to act your dirty, roguish comedy!”
Urbenin grew deadly pale and began to shake.…