though there was an understanding between them. Perhaps at this moment he is in the restaurant with Ivan Fyodorovitch, for Ivan Fyodorovitch has not been home to dinner and Fyodor Pavlovitch dined alone an hour ago, and is gone to lie down. But I beg you most particularly not to speak of me and of what I have told you, for he’d kill me for nothing at all.”
“Brother Ivan invited Dmitri to the restaurant today?” repeated Alyosha quickly.
“That’s so.”
“The Metropolis tavern in the marketplace?”
“The very same.”
“That’s quite likely,” cried Alyosha, much excited. “Thank you, Smerdyakov; that’s important. I’ll go there at once.”
“Don’t betray me,” Smerdyakov called after him.
“Oh, no, I’ll go to the tavern as though by chance. Don’t be anxious.”
“But wait a minute, I’ll open the gate to you,” cried Marya Kondratyevna.
“No; it’s a shortcut, I’ll get over the fence again.”
What he had heard threw Alyosha into great agitation. He ran to the