"Klimkov?" mused the black-bearded man, ignoring Yevsey's reply. "Seems to me I heard the name somewhere."
"Forgive me," repeated Yevsey.
"Do you feel yourself very guilty?"
"Very."
"That's good. What do you feel guilty of?"
Klimkov was silent. He felt as if the black-bearded man sitting so comfortably and calmly in his chair would never let him leave the room.
"You don't know? Think!"
Klimkov drew more air into his lungs, and began to tell of Rayisa and how she had suffocated the old man.
"Lukin?" the man with the blue goggles queried, yawning indifferently. "Aha, that's why your name is familiar to me."
He walked over to Yevsey, lifted his chin with his finger, and looked into his face for a few seconds. Then he rang.