As far as I can remember, the doctors came to the following approximate conclusions: a) death was caused by anaemia following significant blood loss. The blood loss was explained by the presence of a gaping wound on the right side of the chest; b) the head wound must be considered a serious injury, but the chest wound was undoubtedly fatal; this latter must be taken as the immediate cause of death; c) the head wound had been inflicted by a blunt instrument, but the chest wound by a sharp and most probably two-edged blade; d) none of the above described wounds could have been self-inflicted; e) there was no apparent attempt at rape.
In order not to shelve matters and later repeat myself, I shall immediately convey to the reader the picture I formed of the crime, created from my first impressions after the inspection, two or three cross-examinations and the reading of the postmortem report.
When Olga parted from the main company, she went for a stroll in the forest. Either day-dreaming or surrendering herself to melancholy thoughts (the reader will recall her mood that fateful evening), she strayed into the depths of the forest. There she met her murderer. When she was standing under the trees, deep in thought, a man came up to her and started talking to her. There was nothing suspicious about him, otherwise she would have cried out for help – but her cries wouldn’t have been of the heart-rending variety. After a few words with her, the murderer seized her left arm – so violently, that he tore the sleeves of her jacket and blouse and left marks in the form of those four patches. At this point it is possible that she produced the shriek heard by the company – she shrieked from pain – and evidently after she had read the murderer’s intentions from his face. Whether he wanted to stop her screaming again, or perhaps under the influence of evil feelings, he grabbed her by the front of her dress, near the collar, to which the two torn-off top buttons and the red stripe found by the doctors bear witness. Grasping at her chest and shaking her, the murderer pulled off the golden chain she had been wearing around her neck. The stripe was caused by friction and the tightening of the chain. Then the murderer struck her on the head with some blunt instrument – a stick, for example, or perhaps even the haft of the dagger that was hanging on Olga’s belt. Then, in a fit of frenzy, or finding that one wound wasn’t enough, he bared the dagger and plunged it into her right side with great force: I say with great force, since the dagger was blunt.
Such was the sombre aspect of the picture that I was able to paint on the basis of the above-mentioned data. The question – who was the murderer? – was clearly not difficult and solved itself. Firstly, the murderer was not ruled by mercenary motives but by something else. Therefore there was no need to suspect some stray tramp or ruffians who had been fishing on the lake. The victim’s shriek couldn’t have frightened off a robber: removing the brooch and watch would have been the work of a second. Secondly, Olga intentionally didn’t reveal the murderer’s name – this she would never have done had the murderer been a common thief. Evidently the murderer was dear to her and she didn’t want him to suffer severe punishment on her account. It might have been her crazy father or the husband she didn’t love but before whom she probably felt guilty; or the Count, to whom in her heart of hearts she possibly felt an obligation. On the eve of the murder, as the servants subsequently testified, her crazy father was sitting in his cottage in the forest and he spent the whole evening writing a letter to the chief of police, asking him to keep under strict control those imaginary thieves who were apparently surrounding the lunatic’s home day and night. The Count didn’t leave his guests before or at the time of the murder. It only remained to bring the whole weight of suspicion to bear on that unfortunate Urbenin – no one else. His unexpected appearance on the scene, the very look of him, etc. could only serve as substantial evidence.
Thirdly, Olga’s life of late had been one uninterrupted affair. This particular affair had been the kind that usually ends in a capital crime. An old, doting husband, betrayal, jealousy, blows, flight to the lover-Count a month or two after the wedding…
If the beautiful heroine of a novel like this happens to be murdered, don’t look for thieves and crooks, but go in pursuit of the heroes. Regarding this third point, the most likely hero-murderer was that same Urbenin.
XXIV
I held the preliminary inquiry in the ‘mosaic’ room, where once I loved to loll on the soft couches and flirt with the gipsy girls. First to be examined by me was Urbenin. He was brought to me from Olga’s room, where he still continued to sit on a stool in the corner without taking his eyes off the empty bed for one moment. For a minute he stood before me in silence, looked at me indifferently and then, probably guessing that I intended addressing him in the manner of an investigating magistrate, spoke as one who was weary, broken by grief and anguish.
‘Please question the other witnesses first, Sergey Petrovich, but me afterwards… I just can’t…’
Urbenin considered himself a witness – or thought that he was considered one.
‘No, I must question you here and now,’ I said. ‘Please be seated.’
Urbenin sat down opposite me and lowered his head. He was ill and exhausted, replied reluctantly and it took a great effort to extract a statement from him.
He testified that he was Pyotr Yegorych Urbenin, gentleman, aged fifty, member of the Orthodox faith; that he had owned a property in the neighbouring district of K— where he had worked during the elections and for two periods of three years, and had been an honorary JP. After going bankrupt, he mortgaged his estate and thought he should get a job. He had become the Count’s manager about six years previously. With a great love of agriculture, he wasn’t above working for a private person and thought that only fools were ashamed of hard work. The Count always paid him his salary on the dot and he had nothing to complain about. He had a son and daughter from his first marriage, etc. etc.
He had married Olga out of passionate love: after a long and painful struggle with his feelings, neither common sense nor the logic of a practical, mature mind prevailed. He had to bow to his feelings and get married. He knew that Olga wasn’t marrying him for love, but since he thought her highly virtuous, he decided to content himself with her faithfulness and friendship, which he hoped to earn. When he reached the point where disenchantment and the insult of grey hair begins, Urbenin asked permission not to talk of ‘the past, for which God will forgive her’ – or at least to postpone any talk of this until a later date.
‘I can’t… it’s very hard for me… you can see that for yourself.’
‘All right, let’s leave it for another time. Just tell me now: is it true that you beat your wife? They say that on one occasion, when you found she had a note from the Count, you struck her.’
‘That’s not true. I only grabbed her arm, but she burst into tears and that same evening she ran off to complain about it.’
‘Did you know of her relationship with the Count?’
‘I did ask if this conversation could be postponed. And what’s the point of it?’
‘Please just answer this one question, which is extremely important. Did you know of your wife’s relationship with the Count?’
‘Of course I did.’
‘Right. I’ll make a note of that, but we’ll leave everything else that concerns your wife’s adultery for another time. Now let’s turn to another question – can you please explain how you came to be in the forest?’
‘Well, sir, I’ve been living in town with my female cousin since I lost my job. I kept myself busy trying to find work and drank to drown my sorrows. I’ve been drinking particularly heavily this month. For example, I can’t remember a thing about last week, as I drank round the clock. The day before yesterday I got drunk too. In short, I’m finished! Finished for good!’
‘You wanted to tell me how you came to be in the forest yesterday.’
‘Yes, sir. Yesterday I woke up early, at about four o’clock. I had a hangover from the day before, aches and pains all over, as if I were feverish. As I lay on my bed and
looked through the window at the sunrise I remembered all kinds of different things. I felt really low. Suddenly I had the urge to see her, to see her once more, possibly for the last time. And I was gripped by anger and despair. I took out of my pocket the hundred roubles the Count had sent me, looked at them and started trampling them underfoot. I stamped and stamped, after which I decided to go and throw his charity in his face.
‘I may be hungry and down at heel, but I cannot sell my honour and I consider every attempt to buy it a personal insult. Well, sir, I wanted to have a look at Olga and fling the money right in that seducer’s ugly mug. And I was so overcome by this longing that I nearly went out of my mind. I had no money for the journey here – I couldn’t bring myself to spend his hundred roubles on myself. So I set off on foot. Fortunately, on the way, I met a peasant I knew and he took me ten miles for ten copecks, otherwise I’d still be slogging it. The peasant set me down at Tenevo. From there I made my way on foot and so I arrived at about ten o’clock.’
‘Did anyone see you at the time?’
‘Yes, sir. Nikolay the watchman was sitting by the gate and he told me that the master wasn’t at home and had gone shooting. I was almost dying from exhaustion, but my desire to see my wife was stronger than any pain. I had to walk to the place where they were shooting without resting for a single moment. I didn’t take the road, but set off through the forest. I know every single tree and it would be as hard for me to get lost in the Count’s forest as it would be in my own room.’
‘But by going through the forest and not by the road you might have got separated from the shooting party.’
‘No, sir. I kept to the road the whole time and I was so close that I could hear not only the shooting but the conversation as well.’
‘So, you didn’t expect to meet your wife in the forest?’
Urbenin glanced at me in amazement and replied after a pause for thought:
‘If you don’t mind my saying so, that’s a strange question. You wouldn’t expect to meet a wolf, but meeting with a terrible disaster is all the more unlikely. God sends misfortunes without warning. Take this dreadful incident… There I was, walking through Olkhovsk woods, not expecting any trouble, since I had enough trouble as it was, when I suddenly heard a terrible shriek. It was so piercing that I thought someone had cut my ear with a knife… I ran towards the place where the shriek came from…’
Urbenin’s mouth twisted to one side, his chin quivered. Then he blinked and burst into sobs.
‘I ran towards the shriek and suddenly I saw Olga lying there. Her hair and forehead were covered in blood, her face looked terrible. I started shouting, calling her by name. She didn’t move. I kissed her and lifted her up.’
Urbenin choked and covered his face with his sleeve. A minute later he continued:
‘I didn’t see the villain… but when I was running towards her I heard someone’s hurried footsteps. It was probably him running away.’
‘That’s all very neatly thought out, Pyotr Yegorych,’ I said. ‘But are you aware that investigating magistrates are usually very sceptical about such rare events as the murder coinciding with that chance stroll of yours, etc. Quite cleverly invented, but it explains very little.’
‘What do you mean invented?’ Urbenin exclaimed, opening his eyes wide. ‘I wasn’t inventing anything, sir.’
Urbenin suddenly went red and stood up.
‘It seems as if you suspect me,’ he muttered. ‘It’s possible to suspect anyone, but you, Sergey Petrovich, have known me a long time… It’s a sin branding me with such suspicions. After all, you know me very well.’
‘Of course I know you… but my personal opinions are irrelevant here. The law allows only juries to have personal opinions, but an investigating magistrate deals purely with the evidence… And there’s a great deal of evidence, Pyotr Yegorych.’
Urbenin looked at me in alarm and shrugged his shoulders.
‘But whatever the evidence,’ he said, ‘you must understand … Well, do you really think I would have been capable of murder…? Me? And of murdering her? I could easily kill a quail or a woodcock, but a human being, someone dearer to me than life itself, dearer than my own salvation, the very thought of whom used to brighten my miserable existence like the sun! And suddenly you suspect me!’
Urbenin made a despairing gesture and sat down.
‘As it is, all I want to do is die – and yet you have to insult me into the bargain! It would be bad enough if some civil servant. I didn’t know was insulting me, but it’s you, Sergey Petrovich!! Please let me go!’
‘You may… I’ll examine you again tomorrow, but in the meantime, Pyotr Yegorych, I must place you under house arrest… I hope that by tomorrow’s examination you’ll have come to appreciate all the importance of the evidence we have against you, that you won’t start dragging things out for nothing and that you’ll confess. I’m convinced Olga was murdered by you. That’s all I have to say today. You may go.’
This said, I bent over my papers. Urbenin looked at me in bewilderment, stood up and stretched his fingers out somewhat peculiarly.
‘Are you joking… or are you serious?’ he asked.
‘This is beyond a joke,’ I said. ‘You can go.’
Urbenin still remained standing. He was pale and he looked at my papers in dismay.
‘Why are your hands bloodstained, Pyotr Yegorych?’ I asked.
He looked down at his hands, on which there were still traces of blood, and twitched his fingers.
‘Why is there blood? Hm… if you think this is evidence then it’s very poor evidence. When I was lifting bloodstained Olga I couldn’t avoid getting my hands bloodied. I wasn’t wearing any gloves.’
‘You just told me that when you saw your wife you shouted for help. How is it no one heard your shouts?’
‘I don’t know. I was so stunned at the sight of Olga that I couldn’t shout out loud… But I don’t know anything. I don’t have to defend myself. Besides, it’s not my policy…’
‘But you could hardly have shouted… After killing your wife you ran off and were absolutely stunned to see those people at the edge of the forest.’
‘I didn’t notice those people of yours either. I had no time for people.’
With this my examination of Urbenin was over for the time being. Urbenin was then put under house arrest and locked up in one of the Count’s outbuildings.
XXV
On the second or third day Polugradov, the deputy prosecutor, a man whom I cannot recall without spoiling my mood, came bowling in from town. Imagine a tall, thin man of about thirty, dressed like a fop, smoothly shaven, with hair as curly as a lamb’s. He had fine features, but they were so dry and insipid that it wasn’t difficult to deduce that individual’s shallowness and pomposity from them. His voice was soft, sugary and sickeningly polite.
He arrived early in the morning, in a hired carriage, with two suitcases. Wearing an extremely worried expression and complaining of ‘fatigue’ with great affectation, he first of all inquired whether there was a room for him in the Count’s house. On my instructions a small but very comfortable and bright room had been set aside, where everything was provided, from a marble washstand to a box of matches.
‘Listen to what I say, my good man! Bring me some hot water,’ he began, making himself comfortable and squeamishly sniffing the air. ‘My deah fellow! I’m talking to you! Hot water, if you don’t mind!’
And before getting down to business he spent ages dressing, washing and preening himself. He even cleaned his teeth with red powder and took three minutes to clip his sharp, pink nails.
‘Well, sir!’ he said, at last getting down to business and leafing through our reports. ‘What’s it all about?’
I told him the facts of the case without omitting a single detail.
‘Have you been to the scene of the crime?’
‘No, not yet.’
The deputy prosecutor frowned, ran his white womanish hands across his fresh
ly washed forehead and strode up and down the room.
‘I simply don’t understand why on earth you haven’t been there!’ he muttered. ‘That’s the very first thing you should have done, I assume! Did you forget – or didn’t you think it necessary?’
‘Neither: yesterday I was waiting for the police. But I shall go today.’
‘There’s nothing left there now. It’s been raining every day and you gave the criminal time to cover his tracks. You could have at least stationed a guard there. No? I don’t un-der-stand!’