“I beg you not to put your spoke in,” Tchubikov answered roughly.  “Kindly examine the floor.  This is the second case in my experience, Yevgraf Kuzmitch,” he added to the police superintendent, dropping his voice.  “In 1870 I had a similar case.  But no doubt you remember it. . . .  The murder of the merchant Portretov.  It was just the same.  The blackguards murdered him, and dragged the dead body out of the window.”

Tchubikov went to the window, drew the curtain aside, and cautiously pushed the window.  The window opened.

“It opens, so it was not fastened. . . .  H’m there are traces on the window-sill.  Do you see?  Here is the trace of a knee. . . .  Some one climbed out. . . .  We shall have to inspect the window thoroughly.”

“There is nothing special to be observed on the floor,” said Dyukovsky.  “No stains, nor scratches.  The only thing I have found is a used Swedish match.  Here it is.  As far as I remember, Mark Ivanitch didn’t smoke; in a general way he used sulphur ones, never Swedish matches.  This match may serve as a clue. . . .”

“Oh, hold your tongue, please!” cried Tchubikov, with a wave of his hand.  “He keeps on about his match!  I can’t stand these excitable people!  Instead of looking for matches, you had better examine the bed!”

On inspecting the bed, Dyukovsky reported: 

“There are no stains of blood or of anything else. . . .  Nor are there any fresh rents.  On the pillow there are traces of teeth.  A liquid, having the smell of beer and also the taste of it, has been spilt on the quilt. . . .  The general appearance of the bed gives grounds for supposing there has been a struggle.”

“I know there was a struggle without your telling me!  No one asked you whether there was a struggle.  Instead of looking out for a struggle you had better be . . .”

“One boot is here, the other one is not on the scene.”

“Well, what of that?”

“Why, they must have strangled him while he was taking off his boots.  He hadn’t time to take the second boot off when . . . .”

“He’s off again! . . .  And how do you know that he was strangled?”

“There are marks of teeth on the pillow.  The pillow itself is very much crumpled, and has been flung to a distance of six feet from the bed.”

“He argues, the chatterbox!  We had better go into the garden.  You had better look in the garden instead of rummaging about here. . . .  I can do that without your help.”

When they went out into the garden their first task was the inspection of the grass.  The grass had been trampled down under the windows.  The clump of burdock against the wall under the window turned out to have been trodden on too.  Dyukovsky succeeded in finding on it some broken shoots, and a little bit of wadding.  On the topmost burrs, some fine threads of dark blue wool were found.

“What was the colour of his last suit?  Dyukovsky asked Psyekov.