Dmitri suddenly reappeared in the drawing-room. He had, of course, found the other entrance locked, and the key actually was in Fyodor Pavlovitch’s pocket. The windows of all the rooms were also closed, so Grushenka could not have come in anywhere nor have run out anywhere.
“Hold him!” shrieked Fyodor Pavlovitch, as soon as he saw him again. “He’s been stealing money in my bedroom.” And tearing himself from Ivan he rushed again at Dmitri. But Dmitri threw up both hands and suddenly clutched the old man by the two tufts of hair that remained on his temples, tugged at them, and flung him with a crash on the floor. He kicked him two or three times with his heel in the face. The old man moaned shrilly. Ivan, though not so strong as Dmitri, threw his arms round him, and with all his might pulled him away. Alyosha helped him with his slender strength, holding Dmitri in front.
“Madman! You’ve killed him!” cried Ivan.
“Serve him right!” shouted Dmitri breathlessly. “If I haven’t killed him, I’ll come again and kill him. You can’t protect him!”
“Dmitri! Go away at once!” cried Alyosha commandingly.
“Alexey! You tell me. It’s only you I can believe; was she here just now, or not? I saw her myself creeping this way by the fence from the lane. I shouted, she ran away.”
“I swear she’s not been here, and no one expected her.”
“But I saw her. … So she must … I’ll find out at once where she is. … Goodbye, Alexey! Not a word to Aesop about the money now. But go to Katerina Ivanovna at once and be sure to say, ‘He sends his compliments to you!’ Compliments, his compliments! Just compliments and farewell! Describe the scene to her.”