"He held out both hands to me, but he did not give me one--he drew it
back in time," struck him suspiciously. Both were watching each other,
but when their eyes met, quick as lightning they looked away.

"I brought you this paper... about the watch. Here it is. Is it all
right or shall I copy it again?"

"What? A paper? Yes, yes, don't be uneasy, it's all right," Porfiry
Petrovitch said as though in haste, and after he had said it he took the
paper and looked at it. "Yes, it's all right. Nothing more is needed,"
he declared with the same rapidity and he laid the paper on the table.

A minute later when he was talking of something else he took it from the
table and put it on his bureau.

"I believe you said yesterday you would like to question me...
formally... about my acquaintance with the murdered woman?" Raskolnikov
was beginning again. "Why did I put in 'I believe'" passed through
his mind in a flash. "Why am I so uneasy at having put in that '_I
believe_'?" came in a second flash. And he suddenly felt that his
uneasiness at the mere contact with Porfiry, at the first words, at the
first looks, had grown in an instant to monstrous proportions, and that
this was fearfully dangerous. His nerves were quivering, his emotion was
increasing. "It's bad, it's bad! I shall say too much again."

"Yes, yes, yes! There's no hurry, there's no hurry," muttered Porfiry
Petrovitch, moving to and fro about the table without any apparent aim,
as it were making dashes towards the window, the bureau and the table,
at one moment avoiding Raskolnikov's suspicious glance, then again
standing still and looking him straight in the face.