第10章

hisgreat，palecheekshunglikefilledpouches，motionless，withoutaquiver;butinhisblueeyes，narrowedasifpeering，therewasthesamelookofconfidentshrewdness，alittlecrazyinitsfixity，theymusthavehadwhiletheindomitableoptimistsatthinkingatnightinhiscell。Beforehim，KarlYundtremainedstanding，onewingofhisfadedgreenishhavelockthrownbackcavalierlyoverhisshoulder。Seatedinfrontofthefireplace，ComradeOssipon，ex—medicalstudent，theprincipalwriteroftheF。P。leaflets，stretchedouthisrobustlegs，keepingthesolesofhisbootsturneduptotheglowinthegrate。Abushofcrinklyyellowhairtoppedhisred，freckledface，withaflattenednoseandprominentmouthcastintheroughmouldoftheNegrotype。Hisalmond—shapedeyesleeredlanguidlyoverthehighcheek—bones。Heworeagreyflannelshirt，thelooseendsofablacksilktiehungdownthebuttonedbreastofhissergecoat;andhisheadrestingonthebackofhischair，histhroatlargelyexposed，heraisedtohislipsacigaretteinalongwoodentube，puffingjetsofsmokestraightupattheceiling。

Michaelispursuedhisidea—theideaofhissolitaryreclusion—thethoughtvouchsafedtohiscaptivityandgrowinglikeafaithrevealedinvisions。Hetalkedtohimself，indifferenttothesympathyorhostilityofhishearers，indifferentindeedtotheirpresence，fromthehabithehadacquiredofthinkingaloudhopefullyinthesolitudeofthefourwhitewashedwallsofhiscell，inthesepulchralsilenceofthegreatblindpileofbricksnearariver，sinisteranduglylikeacolossalmortuaryforthesociallydrowned。

Hewasnogoodindiscussion，notbecauseanyamountofargumentcouldshakehisfaith，butbecausethemerefactofhearinganothervoicedisconcertedhimpainfully，confusinghisthoughtsatonce—thesethoughtsthatforsomanyyears，inamentalsolitudemorebarrenthanawaterlessdesert，nolivingvoicehadevercombated，commented，orapproved。

Nooneinterruptedhimnow，andhemadeagaintheconfessionofhisfaith，masteringhimirresistibleandcompletelikeanactofgrace:thesecretoffatediscoveredinthematerialsideoflife;theeconomicconditionoftheworldresponsibleforthepastandshapingthefuture;thesourceofallideas，guidingthementaldevelopmentofmankindandtheveryimpulsesoftheirpassion——

AharshlaughfromComradeOssiponcutthetiradedeadshortinasuddenfalteringofthetongueandabewilderedunsteadinessoftheapostle’smildlyexaltedeyes。Heclosedthemslowlyforamoment，asiftocollecthisroutedthoughts。Asilencefell;butwhatwiththetwogas—jetsoverthetableandtheglowinggratethelittleparlourbehindMrVerloc’sshophadbecomefrightfullyhot。MrVerloc，gettingoffthesofawithponderousreluctance，openedthedoorleadingintothekitchentogetmoreair，andthusdisclosedtheinnocentStevie，seatedverygoodandquietatadealtable，drawingcircles，circles;innumerablecircles，concentric，eccentric;

acoruscatingwhirlofcirclesthatbytheirtangledmultitudeofrepeatedcurves，uniformityofform，andconfusionofintersectinglinessuggestedarenderingofcosmicchaos，thesymbolismofamadartattemptingtheinconceivable。Theartistneverturnedhishead;andinallhissoul’sapplicationtothetaskhisbackquivered，histhinneck，sunkintoadeephollowatthebaseoftheskull，seemedreadytosnap。

MrVerloc，afteragruntofdisapprovingsurprise，returnedtothesofa。

AlexanderOssipongotup，tallinhisthreadbarebluesergesuitunderthelowceiling，shookoffthestiffnessoflongimmobility，andstrolledawayintothekitchen（downtwosteps）tolookoverStevie’sshoulder。

Hecameback，pronouncingoracularly:`Verygood。Verycharacteristic，perfectlytypical。’

`What’sverygood？’grunted，inquiringly，MrVerloc，settledagaininthecornerofthesofa。Theotherexplainedhismeaningnegligently，withashadeofcondescensionandatossofhisheadtowardsthekitchen:

`Typicalofthisformofdegeneracy—thesedrawings，Imean。’

`Youwouldcallthatladadegenerate，wouldyou？’mumbledMrVerloc。

ComradeAlexanderOssipon—nicknamedtheDoctor，ex—medicalstudentwithoutadegree;afterwardswanderinglecturertoworking—men’sassociationsuponthesocialisticaspectsofhygiene;authorofapopularquasi—medicalstudy（intheformofacheappamphletseizedpromptlybythepolice）entitledTheCorrodingVicesoftheMiddleClasses;specialdelegateofthemoreorlessmysteriousRedCommittee，togetherwithKarlYundtandMichaelis，fortheworkofliterarypropaganda—turnedupontheobscurefamiliarofatleasttwoEmbassiesthatglanceofinsufferable，hopelesslydensesufficiencywhichnothingbutthefrequentationofsciencecangivetothedullnessofcommonmortals。

`That’swhathemaybecalledscientifically。Verygoodtype，too，altogether，ofthatsortofdegenerate。It’sgoodenoughtoglanceatthelobesofhisears。IfyoureadLombroso——’

MrVerloc，moodyandspreadlargelyonthesofa，continuedtolookdowntherowofhiswaistcoatbuttons;buthischeeksbecametingedbyafaintblush。Oflateeventhemerestderivativeofthewordscience（aterminitselfinoffensiveandofindefinitemeaning）hadthecuriouspowerofevokingadefinitelyoffensivementalvisionofMrVladimir，inhisbodyashelived，withanalmostsupernaturalclearness。Andthisphenomenondeservingjustlytobeclassedamongstthemarvelsofscience，inducedinMrVerlocanemotionalstateofdreadandexasperationtendingtoexpressitselfinviolentswearing。Buthesaidnothing。ItwasKarlYundtwhowasheard，implacabletohislastbreath。

`Lombrosoisanass。’

ComradeOssiponmettheshockofthisblasphemybyanawful，vacantstare。Andtheother，hisextinguishedeyeswithoutgleamsblackeningthedeepshadowsunderthegreat，bonyforehead，mumbled，catchingthetipofhistonguebetweenhislipsateverysecondwordasthoughhewerechewingitangrily:

`Didyoueverseesuchanidiot？Forhimthecriminalistheprisoner。

Simple，isitnot？Whataboutthosewhoshuthimupthere—forcedhiminthere？Exactly。Forcedhiminthere。Andwhatiscrime？Doesheknowthat，thisimbecilewhohasmadehiswayinthisworldofgorgedfoolsbylookingattheearsandteethofalotofpoor，lucklessdevils？Teethandearsmarkthecriminal？Dothey？Andwhataboutthelawthatmarkshimstillbetter—theprettybrandinginstrumentinventedbytheoverfedtoprotectthemselvesagainstthehungry？Red—hotapplicationsontheirvileskins—hey？Can’tyousmellandhearfromherethethickhideofthepeopleburnandsizzle？That’showcriminalsaremadeforyourLombrosostowritetheirsillystuffabout。’

Theknobofhisstickandhislegsshooktogetherwithpassion，whilstthetrunk，drapedinthewingsofthehavelock，preservedhishistoricattitudeofdefiance。Heseemedtosniffthetaintedairofsocialcruelty，tostrainhisearforitsatrocioussounds。Therewasanextraordinaryforceofsuggestioninthisposturing。Theallbutmoribundveteranofdynamitewarshadbeenagreatactorinhistime—actoronplatforms，insecretassemblies，inprivateinterviews。Thefamousterroristhadneverinhisliferaisedpersonallyasmuchashislittlefingeragainstthesocialedifice。Hewasnomanofaction;hewasnotevenanoratoroftorrentialeloquence，sweepingthemassesalongintherushingnoiseandfoamofagreatenthusiasm。Withamoresubtleintention，hetookthepartofaninsolentandvenomousevokerofsinisterimpulseswhichlurkintheblindenvyandexasperatedvanityofignorance，inthesufferingandmiseryofpoverty，inallthehopefulandnobleillusionsofrighteousanger，pity，andrevolt。Theshadowofhisevilgiftclungtohimyetlikethesmellofadeadlydruginanoldvialofpoison，emptiednow，useless，readytobethrownawayupontherubbish—heapofthingsthathadservedtheirtime。

Michaelis，theticket—of—leaveapostle，smiledvaguelywithhisgluedlips;hispastymoonfacedroopedundertheweightofmelancholyassent。

Hehadbeenaprisonerhimself。Hisownskinhadsizzledunderthered—hotbrand，hemurmuredsoftly。ButComradeOssipon，nicknamedtheDoctor，hadgotovertheshockbythattime。

`Youdon’tunderstand，’hebegan，disdainfully，butstoppedshort，intimidatedbythedeadblacknessofthecavernouseyesinthefaceturnedslowlytowardshimwithablindstare，asifguidedonlybythesound。Hegavethediscussionup，withaslightshrugoftheshoulders。

Stevie，accustomedtomoveaboutdisregarded，hadgotupfromthekitchentable，carryingoffhisdrawingtobedwithhim。HehadreachedtheparlourdoorintimetoreceiveinfulltheshockofKarlYundt’seloquentimagery。

Thesheetofpapercoveredwithcirclesdroppedoutofhisfingers，andheremainedstaringattheoldterrorist，asifrootedsuddenlytothespotbyhismorbidhorroranddreadofphysicalpain。Stevieknewverywellthathotironappliedtoone’sskinhurtverymuch。Hisscaredeyesblazedwithindignation:itwouldhurtterribly。Hismouthdroppedopen。

Michaelisbystaringunwinkinglyatthefirehadregainedthatsentimentofisolationnecessaryforthecontinuityofhisthought。Hisoptimismhadbeguntoflowfromhislips。HesawCapitalismdoomedinitscradle，bornwiththepoisonoftheprincipleofcompetitioninitssystem。Thegreatcapitalistsdevouringthelittlecapitalists，concentratingthepowerandthetoolsofproductioningreatmasses，perfectingindustrialprocesses，andinthemadnessofself—aggrandizementonlypreparing，organizing，enriching，makingreadythelawfulinheritanceofthesufferingproletariat。Michaelispronouncedthegreatword`Patience’—andhisclearblueglance，raisedtothelowceilingofMrVerloc’sparlour，hadacharacterofseraphictrustfulness。InthedoorwayStevie，calmed，seemedsunkinhebetude。

ComradeOssipon’sfacetwitchedwithexasperation。`Thenit’snousedoinganything—nousewhatever。’

`Idon’tsaythat，’protestedMichaelis，gently。Hisvisionoftruthhadgrownsointensethatthesoundofastrangevoicefailedtoroutitthistime。Hecontinuedtolookdownattheredcoals。Preparationforthefuturewasnecessary，andhewaswillingtoadmitthatthegreatchangewouldperhapscomeintheupheavalofarevolution。Buthearguedthatrevolutionarypropagandawasadelicateworkofhighconscience。Itwastheeducationofthemastersoftheworld。Itshouldbeascarefulastheeducationgiventokings。Hewouldhaveitadvanceitstenetscautiously，eventimidly，inourignoranceoftheeffectthatmaybeproducedbyanygiveneconomicchangeuponthehappiness，themorals，theintellect，thehistoryofmankind。Forhistoryismadewithtools，notwithideas;andeverythingischangedbyeconomicconditions—art，philosophy，love，virtue—truthitself！

Thecoalsinthegratesettleddownwithaslightcrash;andMichaelis，thehermitofvisionsinthedesertofapenitentiary，gotupimpetuously。

Roundlikeadistendedballoon，heopenedhisshort，thickarms，asifinapatheticallyhopelessattempttoembraceandhugtohisbreastaself—regenerateduniverse。Hegaspedwithardour。

`Thefutureisascertainasthepast—slavery，feudalism，individualism，collectivism。Thisisthestatementofalaw，notanemptyprophecy。’

ThedisdainfulpoutofComradeOssipon’sthicklipsaccentuatedtheNegrotypeofhisface。

`Nonsense，’hesaid，calmlyenough。`Thereisnolawandnocertainty。

Theteachingpropagandabehanged。Whatthepeopleknowsdoesnotmatter，wereitsknowledgeeversoaccurate。Theonlythingthatmatterstousistheemotionalstateofthemasses。Withoutemotionthereisnoaction。’

Hepaused，thenaddedwithmodestfirmness:

`IamspeakingnowCoyouscientifically—scientifically—Eh？Whatdidyousay，Verloc？’

`Nothing，’growledfromthesofaMrVerloc，who，provokedbytheabhorrentsound，hadmerelymuttereda`Damn。’

Thevenomoussplutteringoftheoldterroristwithoutteethwasheard。

`DoyouknowhowIwouldcallthenatureofthepresenteconomicconditions？

Iwouldcallitcannibalistic。That’swhatitis！Theyarenourishingtheirgreedonthequiveringfleshandthewarmbloodofthepeople—nothingelse。’

Stevieswallowedtheterrifyingstatementwithanaudiblegulp，andatonce，asthoughithadbeenswiftpoison，sanklimplyinasittingpostureonthestepsofthekitchendoor。

Michaelisgavenosignsofhavingheardanything。Hislipsseemedgluedtogetherforgood;notaquiverpassedoverhisheavycheeks。Withtroubledeyeshelookedforhisround，hardhat，andputitonhisroundhead。HisroundandobesebodyseemedtofloatlowbetweenthechairsunderthesharpelbowofKarlYundt。Theoldterrorist，raisinganuncertainandclawlikehand，gaveaswaggeringtilttoablackfeltsombreroshadingthehollowsandridgesofhiswastedface。Hegotinmotionslowly，strikingthefloorwithhistickateverystep。Itwasratheranaffairtogethimoutofthehousebecause，nowandthen，hewouldstop，asiftothink，anddidnotoffertomoveagaintillimpelledforwardbyMichaelis。Thegentleapostlegraspedhisarmwithbrotherlycare;andbehindthem，hishandsinhispockets，therobustOssiponyawnedvaguely。AbluecapwithapatentleatherpeaksetwellatthebackofhisyellowbushofhairgavehimtheaspectofaNorwegiansailorboredwiththeworldafterathunderingspree。

MrVerlocsawhisguestsoffthepremises，attendingthembareheaded，hisheavyovercoathangingopen，hiseyesontheground。

Heclosedthedoorbehindtheirbackswithrestrainedviolence，turnedthekey，shotthebolt。Hewasnotsatisfiedwithhisfriends。InthelightofMrVladimir’sphilosophyofbombthrowingtheyappearedhopelesslyfutile。

ThepartofMrVerlocinrevolutionarypoliticshavingbeentoobserve，hecouldnotallatonce，eitherinhisownhomeorinlargerassemblies，taketheinitiativeofaction。Hehadtobecautious。Movedbythejustindignationofamanwelloverforty，menacedinwhatisdearesttohim—hisreposeandhissecurity—heaskedhimselfscornfullywhatelsecouldhavebeenexpectedfromsuchalot，thisKarlYundt，thisMichaelis—thisOssipon。

Pausinginhisintentiontoturnoffthegasburninginthemiddleoftheshop，MrVerlocdescendedintotheabyssofmoralreflections。Withtheinsightofakindredtemperamenthepronouncedhisverdict。Alazylot—thisKarlYundt，nursedbyablear—eyedoldwoman，awomanhehadyearsagoenticedawayfromafriend，andafterwardshadtriedmorethanoncetoshakeoffintothegutter。JollyluckyforYundtthatshehadpersistedincominguptimeaftertime，orelsetherewouldhavebeennoonenowtohelphimoutofthebusbytheGreenParkrailings，wherethatspectretookitsconstitutionalcrawleveryfinemorning。Whenthatindomitablesnarlingoldwitchdiedtheswaggeringspectrewouldhavetovanish，too—therewouldbeanendtofieryKarlYundt。AndMrVerloc’smoralitywasoffendedalsobytheoptimismofMichaelis，annexedbyhiswealthyoldlady，whohadtakenlatelytosendinghimtoacottageshehadinthecountry。

Theex—prisonercouldmoonabouttheshadylanesfordaystogetherinadeliciousandhumanitarianidleness。AstoOssipon，thatbeggarwassuretowantfornothingaslongasthereweresillygirlswithsavings—bankbooksintheworld。AndMrVerloc，temperamentallyidenticalwithhisassociates，drewfinedistinctionsinhismindonthestrengthofinsignificantdifferences。

Hedrewthemwithacertaincomplacency，becausetheinstinctofconventionalrespectabilitywasstrongwithinhim，beingonlyovercomebyhisdislikeofallkindsofrecognizedlabour—atemperamentaldefectwhichhesharedwithalargeproportionofrevolutionaryreformersofagivensocialstate。

Forobviouslyonedoesnotrevoltagainsttheadvantagesandopportunitiesofthatstate，butagainstthepricewhichmustbepaidforthesameinthecoinofacceptedmorality，self—restraint，andcoil。Themajorityofrevolutionistsaretheenemiesofdisciplineandfatiguemostly。Therearenatures，too，towhosesenseofjusticethepriceexactedloomsupmonstrouslyenormous，odious，oppressive，worrying，humiliating，extortionate，intolerable。Thosearethefanatics。Theremainingportionofsocialrebelsisaccountedforbyvanity，themotherofallnobleandvileillusions，thecompanionofpoets，reformers，charlatans，prophets，andincendiaries。

Lostforawholeminuteintheabyssofmeditation，MrVerlocdidnotreachthedepthoftheseabstractconsiderations。Perhapshewasnotable。

Inanycasehehadnotthetime。HewaspulleduppainfullybythesuddenrecollectionofMrVladimir，anotherofhisassociates，whominvirtueofsubtlemoralaffinitieshewascapableofjudgingcorrectly。Heconsideredhimasdangerous。Ashadeofenvycreptintohisthoughts。Loafingwasallverywellforthesefellows，whoknewnotMrVladimir，andhadwomentofallbackupon;whereashehadawomantoprovidefor——

Atthispoint，byasimpleassociationofideas，MrVerlocwasbroughtfacetofacewiththenecessityofgoingtobedsometimeorotherthatevening。Thenwhynotgonow—atonce？Hesighed。Thenecessitywasnotsonormallypleasurableasitoughttohavebeenforamanofhisageandtemperament。Hedreadedthedemonofsleeplessness，whichhefelthadmarkedhimforitsown。Heraisedhisarm，andturnedofftheflaringgas—jetabovehishead。

Abrightbandoflightfellthroughtheparlourdoorintothepartoftheshopbehindthecounter。ItenabledMrVerloctoascertainataglancethenumberofsilvercoinsinthetill。Thesewerebutfew;andforthefirsttimesinceheopenedhisshophetookacommercialsurveyofitsvalue。Thissurveywasunfavourable。Hehadgoneintotradefornocommercialreasons。Hehadbeenguidedintheselectionofthispeculiarlineofbusinessbyaninstinctiveleaningtowardsshadytransactions，wheremoneyispickedupeasily。Moreover，itdidnottakehimoutofhisownsphere—thespherewhichIswatchedbythepolice。Onthecontrary，itgavehimapubliclyconfessedstandinginthatsphere，andasMrVerlochadunconfessedrelationswhichmadehimfamiliarwithyetcarelessofthepolice，therewasadistinctadvantageinsuchasituation。Butasameansoflivelihooditwasbyitselfinsufficient。

Hetookthecash—boxoutofthedrawer，andturningtoleavetheshop，becameawarethatSteviewasstilldownstairs。

Whatonearthishedoingthere？MrVerlocaskedhimself。What’sthemeaningoftheseantics？Helookeddubiouslyathisbrother—in—law，butdidnotaskhimforinformation。MrVerloc’sintercoursewithSteviewaslimitedtothecasualmutterofamorning，afterbreakfast，`Myboots，’

andeventhatwasmoreacommunicationatlargeofaneedthanadirectorderorrequest。MrVerlocperceivedwithsomesurprisethathedidnotknowreallywhattosaytoStevie。Hestoodstillinthemiddleoftheparlour，andlookedintothekitcheninsilence。Noryetdidheknowwhatwouldhappenifhedidsayanything。AndthisappearedveryqueertoMrVerlocinviewofthefact，borneuponhimsuddenly，thathehadtoprovideforthisfellow，too。Hehadnevergivenamoment’sthoughttillthentothataspectofStevie’sexistence。

Positivelyhedidnotknowhowtospeaktothelad。Hewatchedhimgesticulatingandmurmuringinthekitchen。Stevieprowledroundthetablelikeanexcitedanimalinacage。Atentative`Hadn’tyoubettergotobednow？’producednoeffectwhatever;andMrVerloc，abandoningthestonycontemplationofhisbrother—in—law’sbehaviour，crossedtheparlourwearily，cash—boxinhand。Thecauseofthegenerallassitudehefeltwhileclimbingthestairsbeingpurelymental，hebecamealarmedbyitsinexplicablecharacter。Hehopedhewasnotsickeningforanything。Hestoppedonthedarklandingtoexaminehissensations。Butaslightandcontinuoussoundofsnoringpervadingtheobscurityinterferedwiththeirclearness。Thesoundcamefromhismother—in—law’sroom。Anotheronetoprovidefor，hethought—

andonthisthoughtwalkedintothebedroom。

MrsVerlochadfallenasleepwiththelamp（nogaswaslaidupstairs）

turnedupfullonthetablebythesideofthebed。Thelightthrowndownbytheshadefelldazzlinglyonthewhitepillowsunkbytheweightofherheadreposingwithclosedeyesanddarkhairdoneupinseveralplaitsforthenight。Shewokeupwiththesoundofhernameinherears，andsawherhusbandstandingoverher。

`Winnie！Winnie！’

Atfirstshedidnotstir，lyingveryquietandlookingatthecash—boxinMrVerloc’shand。Butwhensheunderstoodthatherbrotherwas`caperingallovertheplacedownstairs’sheswungoutinonesuddenmovementontotheedgeofthebed。Herbarefeet，asifpokedthroughthebottomofanunadorned，sleevedcalicosackbuttonedtightlyatneckandwrists，feltovertherugfortheslipperswhileshelookedupwardintoherhusband’sface。

`Idon’tknowhowtomanagehim，’MrVerlocexplained，peevishly。`Won’tdotoleavehimdownstairsalonewiththelights。’

Shesaidnothing，glidedacrosstheroomswiftly，andthedoorcloseduponherwhiteform。

MrVerlocdepositedthecash—boxonthenighttable，andbegantheoperationofundressingbyflinginghisovercoatontoadistantchair。Hiscoatandwaistcoatfollowed。Hewalkedabouttheroominhisstockingedfeet，andhisburlyfigure，withthehandsworryingnervouslyathisthroat，passedandrepassedacrossthelongstripoflooking—glassinthedoorofhiswife’swardrobe。Thenafterslippinghisbracesoffhisshouldershepulledupviolentlythevenetianblind，andleanedhisforeheadagainstthecoldwindow—pane—afragilefilmofglassstretchedbetweenhimandtheenormityofcold，black，wet，muddy，inhospitableaccumulationofbricks，slates，andstones，thingsinthemselvesunlovelyandunfriendlytoman。

MrVerlocfeltthelatentunfriendlinessofalloutofdoorswithaforceapproachingtopositivebodilyanguish。Thereisnooccupationthatfailsamanmorecompletelythanthatofasecretagentofpolice。It’slikeyourhorsesuddenlyfallingdeadunderyouinthemidstofanuninhabitedandthirstyplain。ThecomparisonoccurredtoMrVerlocbecausehehadsatastridevariousarmyhorsesinhistime，andhadnowthesensationofanincipientfall。Theprospectwasasblackasthewindow—paneagainstwhichhewasleaninghisforehead。AndsuddenlythefaceofMrVladimir，clean—shavedandwitty，appearedenhaloedintheglowofitsrosycomplexionlikeasortofpinksealimpressedonthefataldarkness。

ThisluminousandmutilatedvisionwassoghastlyphysicallythatMrVerlocstartedawayfromthewindow，lettingdownthevenetianblindwithagreatrattle。Discomposedandspeechlesswiththeapprehensionofmoresuchvisions，hebeheldhiswifere—entertheroomandgetintobedinacalm，businesslikemannerwhichmadehimfeelhopelesslylonelyintheworld。MrsVerlocexpressedhersurpriseatseeinghimupyet。

`Idon’tfeelverywell，’hemuttered，passinghishandsoverhismoistbrow。

`Giddiness？’

`Yes。Notatallwell。’

MrsVerloc，withalltheplacidityofanexperiencedwife，expressedaconfidentopinionastothecause，andsuggestedtheusualremedies;

butherhusband，rootedinthemiddleoftheroom，shookhisloweredheadsadly。

`You’llcatchcoldstandingthere，’sheobserved。

MrVerlocmadeaneffort，finishedundressing，andgotintobed。Downbelowinthequiet，narrowstreetmeasuredfootstepsapproachedthehouse，thendiedaway，unhurriedandfirm，asifthepasser—byhadstartedtopaceoutalleternity，fromgas—lamptogas—lampinanightwithoutend;

andthedrowsytickingoftheoldclockonthelandingbecamedistinctlyaudibleinthebedroom。

MrsVerloc，onherback，andstaringattheceiling，madearemark。

`Takingsverysmalltoday。’

MrVerloc，inthesameposition，clearedhisthroatasifforanimportantstatement，butmerelyinquired:

`Didyouturnoffthegasdownstairs？’

`Yes;Idid，’answeredMrsVerloc，conscientiously。`Thatpoorboyisinaveryexcitedstatetonight，’shemurmured，afterapausewhichlastedforthreeticksoftheclock。

MrVerloccarednothingforStevie’sexcitement，buthefelthorriblywakeful，anddreadedfacingthedarknessandsilencethatwouldfollowtheextinguishingofthelamp。ThisdreadledhimtomaketheremarkthatSteviehaddisregardedhissuggestiontogotobed。MrsVerloc，fallingintothetrap，startedtodemonstrateatlengthtoherhusbandthatthiswasnot`impudence’ofanysort，butsimplyexcitement’。TherewasnoyoungmanofhisageinLondonmorewillinganddocilethanStephen，sheaffirmed;

nonemoreaffectionateandreadytoplease，andevenuseful，aslongaspeopledidnotupsethispoorhead。MrsVerloc，turningtowardsherrecumbenthusband，raisedherselfonherelbow，andhungoverhiminheranxietythatheshouldbelieveStevietobeausefulmemberofthefamily。Thatardourofprotectingcompassionexaltedmorbidlyinherchildhoodbythemiseryofanotherchildtingedhersallowcheekswithafaintduskyblush，madeherbigeyesgleamunderthedarklids。MrsVerlocthenlookedyounger;

shelookedasyoungasWinnieusedtolook，andmuchmoreanimatedthantheWinnieoftheBelgravianmansiondayshadeverallowedherselftoappeartogentlemenlodgers。MrVerloc’sanxietieshadpreventedhimfromattachinganysensetowhathiswifewassaying。Itwasasifhervoicewastalkingontheothersideofaverythickwall。Itwasheraspectthatrecalledhimtohimself。

Heappreciatedthiswoman，andthesentimentofthisappreciation，stirredbyadisplayofsomethingresemblingemotion，onlyaddedanotherpangtohismentalanguish。Whenhervoiceceasedhemoveduneasily，andsaid:

`Ihaven’tbeenfeelingwellforthelastfewdays。’

Hemighthavemeantthisasanopeningtoacompleteconfidence;butMrsVerloclaidherheadonthepillowagain，andstaringupward，wenton:

`Thatboyhearstoomuchofwhatistalkedabouthere。IfIhadknowntheywerecomingtonightIwouldhaveseentoitthathewenttobedatthesametimeIdid。Hewasoutofhismindwithsomethingheoverheardabouteatingpeople’sfleshanddrinkingblood。What’sthegoodoftalkinglikethat？’

Therewasanoteofindignantscorninhervoice。MrVerlocwasfullyresponsivenow。

`AskKarlYundt，’hegrowled，savagely。

MrsVerloc，withgreatdecision，pronouncedKarlYundt`adisgustingoldman’。ShedeclaredopenlyheraffectionforMichaelis。OftherobustOssipon，inwhosepresenceshealwaysfeltuneasybehindanattitudeofstonyreserve，shesaidnothingwhatever。Andcontinuingtotalkofthatbrother，whohadbeenforsomanyyearsanobjectofcareandfears:

`Heisn’tfittohearwhat’ssaidhere。Hebelievesit’salltrue。Heknowsnobetter。Hegetsintohispassionsoverit。’

MrVerlocmadenocomment。

`Heglaredatme，asifhedidn’tknowwhoIwas，whenIwentdownstairs。

Hisheartwasgoinglikeahammer。Hecan’thelpbeing##excitable。Iwokemotherup，andaskedhertositwithhimtillhewenttosleep。Itisn’thisfault。He’snotroublewhenhe’sleftalone。’

MrVerlocmadenocomment。

`Iwishhehadneverbeentoschool，’MrsVerlocbeganagain，brusquely。

`He’salwaystakingawaythosenewspapersfromthewindowtoread。Hegetsaredfaceporingoverthem。Wedon’tgetridofadozennumbersinamonth。

Theyonlytakeuproominthefrontwindow。AndMrOssiponbringseveryweekapileoftheseF。P。tractstosellatahalfpennyeach。Iwouldn’tgiveahalfpennyforthewholelot。It’ssillyreading—that’swhatitis。There’snosaleforit。TheotherdaySteviegotholdofone，andtherewasastoryinitofaGermansoldierofficertearinghalf—offtheearofarecruit，andnothingwasdonetohimforit。Thebrute！Icouldn’tdoanythingwithSteviethatafternoon。Thestorywasenough，too，tomakeone’sbloodboil。Butwhat’stheuseofprintingthingslikethat？Wearen’tGermanslaveshere，thankGod。It’snotourbusiness—isit？’

MrVerlocmadenoreply。

`Ihadtotakethecarvingknifefromtheboy，’MrsVerloccontinued，alittlesleepilynow。`Hewasshoutingandstampingandsobbing。Hecan’tstandthenotionofanycruelty。Hewouldhavestuckthatofficerlikeapigifhehadseenhimthen。It’strue，too！Somepeopledon’tdeservemuchmercy。’MrsVerloc’svoiceceased，andtheexpressionofhermotionlesseyesbecamemoreandmorecontemplativeandveiledduringthelongpause。