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Mitya turned, and saw that someone had, in fact, parted
the curtains and seemed to be watching them. And not one
person alone, it seemed.
He jumped up and walked quickly to the intruder.
‘Here, come to us, come here,’ said a voice, speaking not
loudly, but firmly and peremptorily.
Mitya passed to the other side of the curtain and stood
stock still. The room was filled with people, but not those
who had been there before. An instantaneous shiver ran
down his back, and he shuddered. He recognised all those
people instantly. That tall, stout old man in the overcoat
and forage-cap with a cockade — was the police captain,
Mihail Makarovitch. And that ‘consumptive-looking’ trim
dandy,’who always has such polished boots’ — that was the
deputy prosecutor. ‘He has a chronometer worth four hun-
dred roubles; he showed it to me.’ And that small young man
in spectacles.... Mitya forgot his surname though he knew
him, had seen him: he was the ‘investigating lawyer,’ from
the ‘school of jurisprudence,’ who had only lately come to
the town. And this man — the inspector of police, Mavr-
iky Mavrikyevitch, a man he knew well. And those fellows
with the brass plates on, why are they here? And those other
two... peasants.... And there at the door Kalganov with Tri-
fon Borissovitch....
‘Gentlemen! What’s this for, gentlemen?’ began Mitya,
but suddenly, as though beside himself, not knowing what
he was doing, he cried aloud, at the top of his voice:
‘I un-der-stand!’
The young man in spectacles moved forward suddenly,