Slowly, carefully, Raskolnikov says, “yes.” And then, realizing he should clarify, he adds, “I saw two different things. One of those telephones, in the first one. I was talking to someone. Something had happened, something terrible — some sort of emergency. We needed to do something about it, to make up excuses…”

He trails off, blinking rapidly.

“Then there was a girl. She was wearing red and white, and trying to move me somewhere.” Another pause. “She called me Miss Ruby.”