They'll remember everything...

and if they find nothing, it will be _worse still_," he added all of a sudden, unexpectedly.
"How do you mean it will be worse ?" "It will be worse." "I don't understand." "My friend, let it be Siberia, Archangel, loss of rights--if I must perish, let me perish! But...

I am afraid of something else." (Again whispering, a scared face, mystery.) "But of what?
Of what ?" "They'll flog me," he pronounced, looking at me with a face of despair.
"Who'll flog you?
What for?
Where ?" I cried, feeling alarmed that he was going out of his mind.
"Where?
Why there...

where 'that's' done." "But where is it done ?" "Eh, _cher,_" he whispered almost in my ear.

"The floor suddenly gives way under you, you drop half through....