“My dear prince! your words lie in the lowest depth of my heart—it is their tomb!” said Lebedeff, solemnly, pressing his hat to the region of his heart.
“Thanks; very well. Then I suppose it’s Ferdishenko; that is, I mean, you suspect Ferdishenko?”
“Whom else?” said Lebedeff, softly, gazing intently into the prince s face.
“Of course—quite so, whom else? But what are the proofs?”
“We have evidence. In the first place, his mysterious disappearance at seven o’clock, or even earlier.”
“I know, Colia told me that he had said he was off to—I forget the name, some friend of his, to finish the night.”
“H’m! then Colia has spoken to you already?”
“Not about the theft.”
“He does not know of it; I have kept it a secret. Very well, Ferdishenko went off to Wilkin’s. That is not so curious in itself, but here the evidence opens out further. He left his address, you see, when he went. Now prince, consider, why did he leave his address? Why do you suppose he went out of his way to tell Colia that he had gone to Wilkin’s? Who cared to know that he was going to Wilkin’s? No, no! prince, this is finesse, thieves’ finesse! This is as good as saying, ‘There, how can I be a thief when I leave my address? I’m not concealing my movements as a thief would.’ Do you understand, prince?”
“Oh yes, but that is not enough.”