“What’s the good of going over all that nonsense again?”
“Who asked you to go over it?... I want you to tell the gentlemen how it happened. You lived with a wood merchant then, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t. He’d only just taken me on that very day; and I’d never lived there at all——”
“All right; he’d just engaged you.... Well, what happened next?”
“Nothing at all happened next.... He engaged me, you see, to guard the timber.... He’d got a timber yard; ’twas worth hundreds and thousands.... He’s a millionaire, he is.”
“Where did it happen? Where does the merchant live?”
“’Twas in Moscow, sir.... I came straight up from the country to him.... How old was I? Don’t suppose I was more than sixteen.... Well, he engaged me; and says he, ‘Look here, boy, if you do your duty, I’ll reward you for it; but if you go conniving with thieves, I’ll let you know. I sha’n’t say many words about it, but I shall just smash you into little bits. But if so be as you do your best, I’ll raise your wages in a month. You keep your eyes open all night; don’t go to sleep; and if you see a thief, just you punch his head!’ You see, sir, these here thieves were always stealing that man’s timber; so, of course, I did as I was told—what else should I do? A lad doesn’t come up to town for his own pleasure. If you get a place, you must try and do your best in it, and please your master, so that he’ll raise your wages, and not swear at you or hit you over the head. So I set my mind to do his bidding. I chose a good cudgel—I pulled out a bit of timber, you know, a stout heavy sapling, with the root on. Well, I cut and trimmed it and made it all nice; and when it got dark, I put on my coat and went out.... It was in autumn, and a very dark night.... So I walked up and down, up and down, and suddenly I heard some one move. I called, and he didn’t answer. ‘He wants to hide,’ thought I; so I went up and gave him a good one with my cudgel. It must have caught him sideways; then I hit again, straight down from the top, and he just gave a squeal like a hare. We-ell, after that, I went to poke him a little with the butt-end; I poked him a bit, but it was a dark night, and I couldn’t see anything; I could only feel something soft, and it didn’t give a sound.... Well, when I couldn’t make him speak, I went to tell the master.... The master hadn’t gone to bed yet.... So I came in, and I said, ‘Please, I think I’ve done a mischief to a thief. He was scrabbling about in the wood, and so I knocked him down.... And I can’t make him speak,’ says I; ‘and he only squeaked a bit, like a hare.’... Well, so then the master called his coachman, and told him to take a lantern and go and see what had happened.... So we went.... Well, and after all, it was only a beggar.... But it wasn’t my fault. I was told to punch his head, and I did as I was bid. Supposing he had stolen the timber, what then? Then I suppose I should have got——”
“There, shut up!... Tell your story, and don’t argufy. What was the next thing?”
“The next thing was that when we looked at the man his head was all smashed in and his arm was broken.... Lord! it makes me feel creepy-like just to remember!... Well, we looked at him, and the coachman, he said: ‘The master’ll have to be told.’ So I went to the master, and I said: ‘Please, sir, I’ve smashed a man,’ and I told him all about it.—‘Surely he isn’t dead!’—‘Yes, that he is.’—And how he did swear at me! Then he told me to go and tell the police. So off I went to find a police-station. I hunted all over the place, and couldn’t find one, hang it all! And when I did find one, everybody was asleep. However, I waited and waited, and at last somebody came out and asked me what I wanted. ‘I’ve smashed a man,’ said I, and so on. Well, I told him all about it—why not? I hadn’t done any wrong. I didn’t want to hit the man.... I told him everything. Well, he wrote it all down.—‘And where’s the cudgel?’ said he.—‘I left the cudgel in the kitchen,’ said I.—‘Go and fetch the cudgel,’ said he; ‘it’ll be wanted.’—So I went and fetched it. Well, I gave them the cudgel. Then they put me into a dark room. In the morning they tied my hands and brought me into another room. Then they began asking questions. Well, whatever they asked me, of course I answered. Two months after, they had a trial. It was the same thing all over again:—‘You killed him?’—‘I did.’—‘How?’—So I told them: ‘First I banged him in the side, and then I banged him on the forehead.’—‘What with?’—‘A cudgel.’—You confess it?’—’Course I do.’—‘You plead guilty?’—‘Which way am I guilty? I was told to punch his head, and I punched it.... A servant’s business is to do as he’s bid.’... Well, they thought about it, and they judged about it, and they wrote, and they talked; and then they came out and said:—‘Here, you’re not guilty; you be off!’—So I went....”
“And the merchant?”