“And to think that even Razumihin had begun to suspect! The scene in the corridor under the lamp had produced its effect then. He had rushed to Porfiry.⁠ ⁠… But what had induced the latter to receive him like that? What had been his object in putting Razumihin off with Nikolay? He must have some plan; there was some design, but what was it? It was true that a long time had passed since that morning⁠—too long a time⁠—and no sight nor sound of Porfiry. Well, that was a bad sign.⁠ ⁠…”

Raskolnikov took his cap and went out of the room, still pondering. It was the first time for a long while that he had felt clear in his mind, at least. “I must settle Svidrigaïlov,” he thought, “and as soon as possible; he, too, seems to be waiting for me to come to him of my own accord.” And at that moment there was such a rush of hate in his weary heart that he might have killed either of those two⁠—Porfiry or Svidrigaïlov. At least he felt that he would be capable of doing it later, if not now.

“We shall see, we shall see,” he repeated to himself.