“You’ll tell us that afterwards. Do you plead guilty?” quietly and firmly asked the president.
“Can’t do such a thing, because that—”
The usher again rushed up to Simeon Kartinkin, and stopped him in a tragic whisper.
The president moved the hand with which he held the paper and placed the elbow in a different position with an air that said: “This is finished,” and turned to Euphemia Botchkova.
“Euphemia Botchkova, you are accused of having, on the 17th of January, 188-, in the lodging-house Mauritania, together with Simeon Kartinkin and Katerina Maslova, stolen some money and a ring out of the merchant Smelkoff’s portmanteau, and having shared the money among yourselves, given poison to the merchant Smelkoff, thereby causing his death. Do you plead guilty?”
“I am not guilty of anything,” boldly and firmly replied the prisoner. “I never went near the room, but when this baggage went in she did the whole business.”
“You will say all this afterwards,” the president again said, quietly and firmly. “So you do not plead guilty?”
“I did not take the money nor give the drink, nor go into the room. Had I gone in I should have kicked her out.”
“So you do not plead guilty?”
“Never.”