a fellow on his word. Ha ha! You are scoffers, gentlemen!”
And he swung round on his chair so that it creaked.
“And did you notice,” asked the prosecutor suddenly, as though not observing Mitya’s excitement, “did you notice when you ran away from the window, whether the door into the garden was open?”
“No, it was not open.”
“It was not?”
“It was shut. And who could open it? Bah! the door. Wait a bit!” he seemed suddenly to bethink himself, and almost with a start:
“Why, did you find the door open?”
“Yes, it was open.”
“Why, who could have opened it if you did not open it yourselves?” cried Mitya, greatly astonished.
“The door stood open, and your father’s murderer undoubtedly went in at that door, and, having accomplished the crime, went out again by the same door,” the prosecutor pronounced deliberately,