of iridescent hundred-rouble bills. “It’s all there, sir, all three thousand, no need to count it. Have it, sir,” he invited Ivan, nodding towards the money. Ivan sank onto the chair. He was white as a sheet. “You frightened me … with that stocking …,” he said, grinning somehow strangely. “Can it possibly be that you didn’t know till now?” Smerdyakov asked once again. “No, I didn’t. I kept thinking it was Dmitri. Brother! Brother! Ah!” he suddenly seized his head with both hands. “Listen: did you kill him alone? Without my brother, or with him?”
