was a hole in each door--eyelet, so called--of about an inch in
diameter. There was no one in this corridor except an old warden with
a wrinkled, sad face.

"Where is Menshov's cell?" asked the assistant.

"The eighth one on the left."

"Are these occupied?" asked Nekhludoff.

"All but one."




CHAPTER L.


"May I look in?" asked Nekhludoff.

"If you please," the assistant said with a pleasant smile, and began
to make inquiries of the warden. Nekhludoff looked through one of the
openings. A tall young man with a small black beard, clad only in his
linen, walked rapidly up and down the floor of his cell. Hearing a
rustle at the door, he looked up, frowned, and continued to walk.

Nekhludoff looked into the second opening. His eye met another large,
frightened eye. He hastily moved away. Looking into the third, he saw
a small-sized man sleeping curled up on a cot, his head covered with
his prison coat. In the fourth cell a broad-faced, pale-looking man