"Upon my word, what a fright you are in of Alyona Ivanovna," gabbled
the huckster's wife, a lively little woman. "I look at you, you are like
some little babe. And she is not your own sister either-nothing but a
step-sister and what a hand she keeps over you!"

"But this time don't say a word to Alyona Ivanovna," her husband
interrupted; "that's my advice, but come round to us without asking.
It will be worth your while. Later on your sister herself may have a
notion."

"Am I to come?"

"About seven o'clock to-morrow. And they will be here. You will be able
to decide for yourself."

"And we'll have a cup of tea," added his wife.

"All right, I'll come," said Lizaveta, still pondering, and she began
slowly moving away.

Raskolnikov had just passed and heard no more. He passed softly,
unnoticed, trying not to miss a word. His first amazement was followed
by a thrill of horror, like a shiver running down his spine. He had
learnt, he had suddenly quite unexpectedly learnt, that the next day at
seven o'clock Lizaveta, the old woman's sister and only companion, would
be away from home and that therefore at seven o'clock precisely the old
woman _would be left alone_.

He was only a few steps from his lodging. He went in like a man