“What do they want? Why the porter? All’s discovered. Resist or open? Come what may! …”
He half rose, stooped forward and unlatched the door.
His room was so small that he could undo the latch without leaving the bed.
Yes; the porter and Nastasya were standing there.
Nastasya stared at him in a strange way. He glanced with a defiant and desperate air at the porter, who without a word held out a grey folded paper sealed with bottle-wax.
“A notice from the office,” he announced, as he gave him the paper.
“From what office?”
“A summons to the police office, of course. You know which office.”
“To the police? … What for? …”
“How can I tell? You’re sent for, so you go.”
The man looked at him attentively, looked round the room and