Raskolnikov could hardly have said himself what he wanted and of what he wished to make certain.

“Upon my word! I’ll call the police!”

“Call away!”

Again they stood for a minute facing each other. At last Svidrigaïlov’s face changed. Having satisfied himself that Raskolnikov was not frightened at his threat, he assumed a mirthful and friendly air.

“What a fellow! I purposely refrained from referring to your affair, though I am devoured by curiosity. It’s a fantastic affair. I’ve put it off till another time, but you’re enough to rouse the dead.⁠ ⁠… Well, let us go, only I warn you beforehand I am only going home for a moment, to get some money; then I shall lock up the flat, take a cab and go to spend the evening at the Islands. Now, now are you going to follow me?”

“I’m coming to your lodgings, not to see you but Sofya Semyonovna, to say I’m sorry not to have been at the funeral.”