They entered the house.  The soldiers and the police-officer unstrapped Aksionov’s luggage and searched it.  Suddenly the officer drew a knife out of a bag, crying, “Whose knife is this?”

Aksionov looked, and seeing a blood-stained knife taken from his bag, he was frightened.

“How is it there is blood on this knife?”

Aksionov tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and only stammered:  “I—­don’t know—­not mine.”  Then the police-officer said:  “This morning the merchant was found in bed with his throat cut.  You are the only person who could have done it.  The house was locked from inside, and no one else was there.  Here is this blood-stained knife in your bag and your face and manner betray you!  Tell me how you killed him, and how much money you stole?”

Aksionov swore he had not done it; that he had not seen the merchant after they had had tea together; that he had no money except eight thousand rubles of his own, and that the knife was not his.  But his voice was broken, his face pale, and he trembled with fear as though he went guilty.

The police-officer ordered the soldiers to bind Aksionov and to put him in the cart.  As they tied his feet together and flung him into the cart, Aksionov crossed himself and wept.  His money and goods were taken from him, and he was sent to the nearest town and imprisoned there.  Enquiries as to his character were made in Vladimir.  The merchants and other inhabitants of that town said that in former days he used to drink and waste his time, but that he was a good man.  Then the trial came on:  he was charged with murdering a merchant from Ryazan, and robbing him of twenty thousand rubles.

His wife was in despair, and did not know what to believe.  Her children were all quite small; one was a baby at her breast.  Taking them all with her, she went to the town where her husband was in jail.  At first she was not allowed to see him; but after much begging, she obtained permission from the officials, and was taken to him.  When she saw her husband in prison-dress and in chains, shut up with thieves and criminals, she fell down, and did not come to her senses for a long time.  Then she drew her children to her, and sat down near him.  She told him of things at home, and asked about what had happened to him.  He told her all, and she asked, “What can we do now?”

“We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish.”

His wife told him that she had sent a petition to the Czar, but it had not been accepted.

Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast.

Then his wife said, “It was not for nothing I dreamt your hair had turned grey.  You remember?  You should not have started that day.”  And passing her fingers through his hair, she said:  “Vanya dearest, tell your wife the truth; was it not you who did it?”

“So you, too, suspect me!” said Aksionov, and, hiding his face in his hands, he began to weep.  Then a soldier came to say that the wife and children must go away; and Aksionov said good-bye to his family for the last time.