said. Pyotr Stepanovitch started.
They looked at one another.

"I told you this evening why you needed Shatov's blood," said Stavrogin,
with flashing eyes. "It's the cement you want to bind your groups
together with. You drove Shatov away cleverly just now. You knew very
well that he wouldn't promise not to inform and he would have thought it
mean to lie to you. But what do you want with me? What do you want with
me? Ever since we met abroad you won't let me alone. The explanation
you've given me so far was simply raving. Meanwhile you are driving
at my giving Lebyadkin fifteen hundred roubles, so as to give Fedka an
opportunity to murder him. I know that you think I want my wife murdered
too. You think to tie my hands by this crime, and have me in your power.
That's it, isn't it? What good will that be to you? What the devil do
you want with me? Look at me. Once for all, am I the man for you? And
let me alone."

"Has Fedka been to you himself?" Verhovensky asked breathlessly.

"Yes, he came. His price is fifteen hundred too.... But here; he'll
repeat it himself. There he stands." Stavrogin stretched out his hand.

Pyotr Stepanovitch turned round quickly. A new figure, Fedka, wearing a
sheep-skin coat, but without a cap, as though he were at home, stepped
out of the darkness in the doorway. He stood there laughing and showing
his even white teeth. His black eyes, with yellow whites, darted
cautiously about the room watching the gentlemen. There was something he
did not understand. He had evidently been just brought in by Kirillov,
and his inquiring eyes turned to the latter. He stood in the doorway,
but was unwilling to come into the room.

"I suppose you got him ready here to listen to our bargaining, or
that he may actually see the money in our hands. Is that it?" asked
Stavrogin; and without waiting for an answer he walked out of the house.
Verhovensky, almost frantic, overtook him at the gate.

"Stop! Not another step!" he cried, seizing him by the arm. Stavrogin
tried to pull away his arm, but did not succeed. He was overcome with
fury. Seizing Verhovensky by the hair with his left hand he flung him
with all his might on the ground and went out at the gate. But he had
not gone thirty paces before Verhovensky overtook him again.

"Let us make it up; let us make it up!" he murmured in a spasmodic
whisper.

Stavrogin shrugged his shoulders, but neither answered nor turned round.

"Listen. I will bring you L