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and

discontentedly.

“What is

it?”

Raskolnikov

asked,

going up

to the

porter.

The man

stole a

look at

him from

under his

brows and

he looked

at him

attentively,

deliberately;

then he

turned

slowly and

went out

of the

gate into

the street

without

saying a

word.

“What is

it?” cried

Raskolnikov.

“Why, he

there was

asking

whether a

student

lived

here,

mentioned

your name

and whom

you lodged

with. I

saw you

coming and

pointed

you out

and he

went away.