And he started like a baby.'Where is she?' he fairly gasped, but couldn't believe it.'She's standing there,' said I.'Open.' He looked out of the window at me, half believing and half distrustful, but afraid to open.'Why, he is afraid of me now,' I thought.And it was funny.I bethought me to knock on the window-frame those taps we'd agreed upon as a signal that Grushenka had come, in his presence, before his eyes.He didn't seem to believe my word, but as soon as he heard the taps, he ran at once to open the door.He opened it.Iwould have gone in, but he stood in the way to prevent me passing.
'Where is she? Where is she?' He looked at me, all of a tremble.
'Well,' thought I, 'if he's so frightened of me as all that, it's a bad lookout!' And my legs went weak with fright that he wouldn't let me in or would call out, or Marfa Ignatyevna would run up, or something else might happen.I don't remember now, but I must have stood pale, facing him.I whispered to him, 'Why, she's there, there, under the window; how is it you don't see her?' I said.
'Bring her then, bring her.' 'She's afraid,' said I; 'she was frightened at the noise, she's hidden in the bushes; go and call to her yourself from the study.' He ran to the window, put the candle in the window.'Grushenka,' he cried, 'Grushenka, are you here?'
Though he cried that, he didn't want to lean out of the window, he didn't want to move away from me, for he was panic-stricken; he was so frightened he didn't dare to turn his back on me.'Why, here she is,' said I.I went up to the window and leaned right out of it.'Here she is; she's in the bush, laughing at you, don't you see her?' He suddenly believed it; he was all of a shake- he was awfully crazy about her- and he leaned right out of the window.I snatched up that iron paper-weight from his table; do you remember, weighing about three pounds? I swung it and hit him on the top of the skull with the corner of it.He didn't even cry out.He only sank down suddenly, and I hit him again and a third time.And the third time Iknew I'd broken his skull.He suddenly rolled on his back, face upwards, covered with blood.I looked round.There was no blood on me, not a spot.I wiped the paper-weight, put it back, went up to the ikons, took the money out of the envelope, and flung the envelope on the floor and the pink ribbon beside it.I went out into the garden all of a tremble, straight to the apple-tree with a hollow in it-you know that hollow.I'd marked it long before and put a rag and a piece of paper ready in it.I wrapped all the notes in the rag and stuffed it deep down in the hole.And there it stayed for over a fortnight.I took it out later, when I came out of the hospital.Iwent back to my bed, lay down and thought, 'If Grigory Vassilyevitch has been killed outright it may be a bad job for me, but if he is not killed and recovers, it will be first-rate, for then he'll bear witness that Dmitri Fyodorovitch has been here, and so he must have killed him and taken the money.' Then I began groaning with suspense and impatience, so as to wake Marfa Ignatyevna as soon as possible.At last she got up and she rushed to me, but when she saw Grigory Vassilyevitch was not there, she ran out, and I heard her scream in the garden.And that set it all going and set my mind at rest."He stopped.Ivan had listened all the time in dead silence without stirring or taking his eyes off him.As he told his story Smerdyakov glanced at him from time to time, but for the most part kept his eyes averted.When he had finished he was evidently agitated and was breathing hard.The perspiration stood out on his face.But it was impossible to tell whether it was remorse he was feeling, or what.
"Stay," cried Ivan pondering."What about the door? If he only opened the door to you, how could Grigory have seen it open before?
For Grigory saw it before you went."
It was remarkable that Ivan spoke quite amicably, in a different tone, not angry as before, so if anyone had opened the door at that moment and peeped in at them, he would certainly have concluded that they were talking peaceably about some ordinary, though interesting, subject.
"As for that door and having seen it open, that's only his fancy,"said Smerdyakov, with a wry smile."He is not a man, I assure you, but an obstinate mule.He didn't see it, but fancied he had seen it, and there's no shaking him.It's just our luck he took that notion into his head, for they can't fail to convict Dmitri Fyodorovitch after that.""Listen..." said Ivan, beginning to seem bewildered again and making an effort to grasp something."Listen.There are a lot of questions I want to ask you, but I forget them...I keep forgetting and getting mixed up.Yes.Tell me this at least, why did you open the envelope and leave it there on the floor? Why didn't you simply carry off the envelope?...When you were telling me, I thought you spoke about it as though it were the right thing to do...but why, Ican't understand..."