CHAPTER IIIHe hurried to Svidrigaïlov’s. What he had to hope from that man he did not know. But that man had some hidden power over him. Having once recognised this, he could not rest, and now the time had come.
On the way, one question particularly worried him: had Svidrigaïlov been to Porfiry’s?
As far as he could judge, he would swear to it, that he had not. He pondered again and again, went over Porfiry’s visit; no, he hadn’t been, of course he hadn’t.
But if he had not been yet, would he go? Meanwhile, for the present he fancied he couldn’t. Why? He could not have explained, but if he could, he would not have wasted much thought over it at the moment. It all worried him and at the same time he could not attend to it. Strange to say, none would have believed it perhaps, but he only
