Instead of replying, Raskolnikoff walked to the outer door and, standing outside, began to pull at the bell. Yes, that was the bell, with its harsh sound. He pulled again and again three times, and remained there listening and thinking. "What is it you want?" again cried the workman as he went out to Raskolnikoff. "I wish to hire some rooms. I came to look at these." "People don't take lodgings in the night. Why don't you apply to the porter?" "The floor has been washed. Are you going to paint it?" remarked Raskolnikoff. "Where is the blood?" "What blood?" "The old woman's and her sister's. There was quite a pool." "Who are you?" cried the workman uneasily. "I am Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikoff, ex-student. I live at the house Schilla, in a lane not far from here, No. 14. Ask the porter there--he knows me," Raskolnikoff replied indifferently, without turning to his questioner. "What were you doing in those rooms?" "Looking at them." "What for? Come, out you go then, if you won't explain yourself," suddenly shouted the porter, a huge fellow in a smock frock, with a large bunch of keys round his waist; and he caught Raskolnikoff by the shoulder and pitched him into the street. The latter lurched forward, but recovered himself, and, giving one look at the spectators, went quietly away. "What shall I do now?" thought Raskolnikoff. He was standing on the bridge, near a crossing, and was looking around him as if expecting some one to speak. But no one spoke, and all was dark and dull, and dead--at least to him, and him alone. A few days later, Raskolnikoff heard from his friend Razoumikhin that those who had borrowed money from Alena Ivanovna were going to the police office to redeem their pledges. He went with Razoumikhin to the office where they were received by Porphyrius Petrovitch, the examining magistrate, who seemed to have expected them. "You have been expecting this visit? But how did you know that he had pledged anything with Alena Ivanovna?" cried Razoumikhin. Porphyrius Petrovitch, without any further reply, said to Raskolnikoff: "Your things, a ring and a watch, were at her place, wrapped up in a piece of paper, and on this paper your name was legibly written in pencil, with the date of the day she had received these things from you." "What a memory you must have got!" said Raskolnikoff, with a forced smile, doing his best to look the magistrate unflinchingly in the face. However, he could not help adding: "I say so, because, as the owners of the pledged articles are no doubt very numerous, you must, I should fancy, have some difficulty in remembering them all; but I see, on the contrary, that you do nothing of the kind. (Oh! fool! why add that?)" "But they have nearly all of them come here; you alone had not done so," answered Porphyrius, with an almost imperceptible sneer. "I happened to be rather unwell." "So I heard. I have been told that you have been in great pain. Even now you are pale."