"Hasn't it been of use too late?" observed a third.

"Who invited him? Who let him in? Who is he? Who is Shatov? Will he
inform, or won't he?" There was a shower of questions.

"If he were an informer he would have kept up appearances instead of
cursing it all and going away," observed some one.

"See, Stavrogin is getting up too. Stavrogin has not answered the
question either," cried the girl-student.

Stavrogin did actually stand up, and at the other end of the table
Kirillov rose at the same time.

"Excuse me, Mr. Stavrogin," Madame Virginsky addressed him sharply, "we
all answered the question, while you are going away without a word."

"I see no necessity to answer the question which interests you,"
muttered Stavrogin.

"But we've compromised ourselves and you won't," shouted several voices.

"What business is it of mine if you have compromised yourselves?"
laughed Stavrogin, but his eyes flashed.

"What business? What business?" voices exclaimed.

Many people got up from their chairs.

"Allow me, gentlemen, allow me," cried the lame man. "Mr. Verhovensky
hasn't answered the question either; he has only asked it."

The remark produced a striking effect. All looked at one another.
Stavrogin laughed aloud in the lame man's face and went out; Kirillov
followed him; Verhovensky ran after them into the passage.

"What are you doing?" he faltered, seizing Stavrogin's hand and gripping
it with all his might in his. Stavrogin pulled away his hand without a
word.

Be at Kirillov's directly, I'll come.... It's absolutely necessary
for me to see you!..."

"It isn't necessary for me," Stavrogin cut him short.

"Stavrogin will be there," Kirillov said finally. "Stavrogin, it is
necessary for you. I will show you that there."

They went out.

CHAPTER VIII. IVAN THE TSAREVITCH

They had gone. Pyotr Stepanovitch was about to rush back to the meeting
to bring order into chaos, but probably reflecting that it wasn't worth
bothering about, left everything, and two minutes later was flying after
the other two. On the way he remembered a short cut to Filipov's house.
He rushed along it, up to his knees in mud, and did in fact arrive at
the very moment when Stavrogin and Kirillov were coming in at the gate.

"You here already?" observed Kirillov. "That's good. Come in."

"How is it you told us you lived alone," asked Stavrogin, passing a
boiling samovar in the passage.

"You will see directly who it is