It goes without saying that she was inconvenienced that same morning, as having been the new mother's midwife; but they found out little: she recounted very sensibly and coolly everything she herself had seen and heard at Shatov's, but concerning the story that had gone on she made plain that she knew and understood nothing of it.

One can imagine what a hubbub arose all over town. A new "story," another killing! But there was something else here now: it was becoming clear that there indeed existed a secret society of killers, of arsonist-revolutionaries, of rebels. The terrible death of Liza, the murder of Stavrogin's wife, Stavrogin himself, the arson, the ball for the governesses, the licentiousness surrounding Yulia Mikhailovna... People even insisted on seeing some mystery in Stepan Trofimovich's disappearance. There was a great, great deal of whispering about Nikolai Vsevolodovich. Towards the end of the day they also learned of Pyotr Stepanovich's absence, and, strangely, he was talked about least of all. What was talked about most of all that day was "the senator."^[206] A crowd stood almost all morning by Filippov's house. The authorities were indeed led astray by Kirillov's note. They believed both in Kirillov's killing of Shatov and in the "murderer's" suicide. However, if the authorities were at a loss, they were not entirely so. The word "park," for instance, so vaguely put into Kirillov's note, did not throw anyone off, as Pyotr Stepanovich had reckoned. The police rushed at once to Skvoreshniki, and not only because there is a park there, as there is not anywhere else in our town, but also even following some sort of instinct, since all the horrors of the recent days were either directly or partially connected with Skvoreshniki. So at least I surmise. (I will note that Varvara Petrovna had driven off to catch Stepan Trofimovich early in the morning and with no knowledge of anything.) The body was found in the pond towards evening of the same day, by certain clues; on the very spot of the murder, Shatov's peaked cap was found, forgotten with great light-mindedness by the murderers.^[207] The ocular and medical inspection of the corpse, along with certain surmises, awakened from the very first a suspicion that Kirillov must have had comrades. There came to light the existence of a Shatovo-Kirillovian secret society, connected with the tracts. But who were these comrades? On that day there was as yet no thought of our people. It was learned that Kirillov had lived as a recluse, and so solitarily that, as the note stated, Fedka had been able to lodge with him for many days, though he was being sought everywhere... Chiefly, everyone was tormented by the impossibility of drawing anything general and unifying from the whole tangle that presented itself. One can hardly imagine what conclusions and what mental anarchy our society, frightened to the point of panic, might have reached, if everything had not suddenly been explained all at once, the very next day, thanks to Lyamshin.

He could not stand it. What happened to him was something that even Pyotr Stepanovich had begun to anticipate towards the end. Entrusted to Tolkachenko, and then to Erkel, he spent the whole of the next day lying in bed, apparently placid, his face turned to the wall, and without saying a word, barely answering when spoken to. He thus learned nothing throughout the day of what was happening in town. But Tolkachenko, who learned everything that was happening, took it into his head towards evening to drop his role with Lyamshin and absent himself from our town to the district capital—that is, simply to run away: truly, they lost their minds, as Erkel had prophesied about them all. I will note incidentally that Liputin also disappeared from town that same day, before noon. But with this one it somehow happened that his disappearance became known to the authorities only the next day, towards evening, when his family, all frightened by his absence but silent out of fear, were directly accosted with questions. But to continue about Lyamshin. As soon as he was left alone (Erkel, relying on Tolkachenko, had gone home even earlier), he at once ran out of the house and, of course, very soon learned how matters stood. Without even stopping at home, he took to his heels and ran wherever his legs would carry him. But the night was so dark, and the undertaking so terrible and toilsome, that having gone down two or three streets, he returned home and locked himself in for the whole night. It seems he made an attempt at suicide towards morning; but nothing came of it. He sat locked in until almost noon, however, and then— suddenly ran to the authorities. It is said that he crawled on his knees, sobbed and shrieked, kissed the floor, shouting that he was unworthy even to kiss the boots of the dignitaries who stood before him. He was calmed down and even treated benignly. The interrogation lasted, they say, about three hours. He declared everything, everything, told the innermost secrets, everything he knew, all the details; he rushed ahead of himself, hastened with his confessions, even told what was unnecessary and without being asked. It turned out that he knew quite enough and had enough sense to present it well: the tragedy of Shatov and Kirillov, the fire, the death of the Lebyadkins, etc., were all put in the background. To the forefront came Pyotr Stepanovich, the secret society, the organization, the network. To the question of why so many murders, scandals, and abominations had been perpetrated, he replied with burning haste that it was all "for the systematic shaking of the foundations, for the systematic corrupting of society and all principles; in order to dishearten everyone and make a hash of everything, and society being thus loosened, ailing and limp, cynical and unbelieving, but with an infinite yearning for some guiding idea and for self-preservation—to take it suddenly into their hands, raising the banner of rebellion, and supported by the whole network of fivesomes, which would have been active all the while, recruiting and searching for practically all the means and all the weak spots that could be seized upon." He said in conclusion that here, in our town, Pyotr Stepanovich had arranged only the first trial of such systematic disorder, the program, so to speak, for further actions, even for all the fivesomes— and that this was, in fact, his own (Lyamshin's) thought, his own surmise, and "that they must be sure to remember it, and that all this must be duly pointed out, how he had explained the matter so frankly and well-behavedly, and could therefore be very useful even in the future for services to the authorities." To the outright question: are there many fivesomes?—he answered that there was an endless multitude, that the whole of Russia was covered with a network, and, though he did not present any proofs, I think his answer was completely sincere. He presented only the printed program of the society, printed abroad, and a plan for developing a system of further actions, which, though only a rough draft, was written by Pyotr Stepanovich's own hand. It turned out that with regard to "shaking the foundations," Lyamshin had quoted the paper verbatim, not omitting even periods and commas, though he had insisted it was merely his own understanding. Of Yulia Mikhailovna he said in a surprisingly funny way, and without even being asked, but rushing ahead of himself, that "she was innocent and had simply been fooled." But, remarkably, he cleared Nikolai Stavrogin completely of any participation in the secret society, of any collusion with Pyotr Stepanovich. (Of the fond and quite ridiculous hopes Pyotr Stepanovich had in Stavrogin, Lyamshin was totally unaware.) The death of the Lebyadkins, according to him, was set up by Pyotr Stepanovich alone, with no participation from Nikolai Vsevolodovich, for the cunning purpose of drawing the latter into the crime and thus into dependence on Pyotr Stepanovich; but instead of the gratitude which Pyotr Stepanovich had undoubtedly and light-mindedly counted on, he had aroused only complete indignation and even despair in the "noble" Nikolai Vsevolodovich. He finished about Stavrogin, also hurrying and without being asked, with an obviously deliberate hint that the man was all but an extremely big wig, that there was some secret in it; that he lived among us, so to speak, incognito, that he had a commission, and that he would very possibly visit us again from Petersburg (Lyamshin was sure that Stavrogin was in Petersburg), only this time in a totally different way and in different circumstances and in the retinue of such persons as we might soon hear about, and that he had heard all this from Pyotr Stepanovich, "a secret enemy of Nikolai Vsevolodovich."