“But what about the painter?” Zossimov interrupted Nastasya’s chatter with marked displeasure. She sighed and was silent.
“Why, he was accused of the murder,” Razumihin went on hotly.
“Was there evidence against him then?”
“Evidence, indeed! Evidence that was no evidence, and that’s what we have to prove. It was just as they pitched on those fellows, Koch and Pestryakov, at first. Foo! how stupidly it’s all done, it makes one sick, though it’s not one’s business! Pestryakov may be coming to-night.... By the way, Rodya, you’ve heard about the business already; it happened before you were ill, the day before you fainted at the police office while they were talking about it.”