asked again, hardly audibly and again after a minute’s pause.
He turned to her and looked very intently at her.
“Guess,” he said, with the same distorted helpless smile.
A shudder passed over her.
“But you … why do you frighten me like this?” she said, smiling like a child.
“I must be a great friend of his … since I know,” Raskolnikov went on, still gazing into her face, as though he could not turn his eyes away. “He … did not mean to kill that Lizaveta … he … killed her accidentally. … He meant to kill the old woman when she was alone and he went there … and then Lizaveta came in … he killed her too.”
Another awful moment passed. Both still gazed at one another.
“You can’t guess, then?” he asked suddenly, feeling as though he were flinging