“At him!” shouted the old man. “Help!”
Ivan and Alyosha caught the old man and were forcibly bringing him back.
“Why do you run after him? He’ll murder you outright,” Ivan cried wrathfully at his father.
“Ivan! Alyosha! She must be here. Grushenka’s here. He said he saw her himself, running.”
He was choking. He was not expecting Grushenka at the time, and the sudden news that she was here made him beside himself. He was trembling all over. He seemed frantic.
“But you’ve seen for yourself that she hasn’t come,” cried Ivan.
“But she may have come by that other entrance.”
“You know that entrance is locked, and you have the key.”
Dmitri suddenly reappeared in the drawing‐room. He had, of course, found the other entrance locked, and the key actually was in Fyodor Pavlovitch’s pocket. The windows of all the rooms were also closed, so Grushenka could not have come in anywhere nor have run out anywhere.
“Hold him!” shrieked Fyodor Pavlovitch, as soon as he saw him again. “He’s been stealing money in my bedroom.” And tearing himself from Ivan he rushed again at Dmitri. But Dmitri threw up both hands and suddenly clutched the old man by the two tufts of hair that remained on his temples, tugged at them, and flung him with a crash on the floor. He kicked him two or three times with his heel in the face. The old man moaned shrilly. Ivan, though not so strong as Dmitri, threw his arms round him, and with all his might pulled him away. Alyosha helped him with his slender strength, holding Dmitri in front.