`It will.I am going to tell the whole story.'
`You won't be believed as much as you fancy you will.'
And the Chief Inspector remained thoughtful.The turn this affair was taking meant the disclosure of many things - the laying waste of fields of knowledge, which, cultivated by a capable man, had a distinct value for the individual and for the society.It was sorry, sorry meddling.It would leave Michaelis unscathed; it would drag to light the Professor's home industry; disorganize the whole system of supervision; make no end of a row in the papers, which, from that point of view, appeared to him by a sudden illumination as invariably written by fools for the reading of imbeciles.Mentally he agreed with the words Mr Verloc let fall at last in answer to his last remark.
`Perhaps not.But it will upset many things.I have been a straight man, and I shall keep straight in this--'
`If they let you,' said the Chief Inspector, cynically.`You will be preached to, no doubt, before they put you into the dock.And in the end you may yet get let in for a sentence that will surprise you.I wouldn't trust too much the gentleman who's been talking to you.'
Mr Verloc listened, frowning.
`My advice to you is to clear out while you may.I have no instructions.
There are some of them,' continued Chief Inspector Heat, laying a peculiar stress on the word `them', `who think you are already out of the world.'
`Indeed!' Mr Verloc was moved to say.Though since his return from Greenwich he had spent most of his time sitting in the tap-room of an obscure little public-house, he could hardly have hoped for such favourable news.
`That's the impression about you.' The Chief Inspector nodded at him.
`Vanish.Clear out.'
`Where to?' snarled Mr Verloc.He raised his head, and gazing at the closed door of the parlour, muttered feelingly: `I only wish you would take me away tonight.I would go quietly.'
`I daresay,' assented sardonically the Chief Inspector, following the direction of his glance.
The brow of Mr Verloc broke into slight moisture.He lowered his husky voice confidentially before the unmoved Chief Inspector.
`The lad was half-witted, irresponsible.Any court would have seen that at once.Only fit for the asylum.And that was the worst that would've happened to him if--'
The Chief Inspector, his hand on the door handle, whispered into Mr Verloc's face:
`He may've been half-witted, but you must have been crazy.What drove you off your head like this?'
Mr Verloc, thinking of Mr Vladimir, did not hesitate in the choice of words.
`A Hyperborean swine,' he hissed, forcibly.`A what you might call a - gentleman.'
The Chief Inspector, steady-eyed, nodded briefly his comprehension, and opened the door.Mrs Verloc, behind the counter, might have heard but did not see his departure, pursued by the aggressive clatter of the bell.
She sat at her post of duty behind the counter.She sat rigidly erect in the chair with two dirty pink pieces of paper lying spread out at her feet.
The palms of her hands were pressed convulsively to her face, with the tips of the fingers contracted against the forehead, as though the skin had been a mask which she was ready to tear off violently.The perfect immobility of her pose expressed the agitation of rage and despair, all the potential violence of tragic passions, better than any shallow display of shrieks, with the beating of a distracted head against the walls, could have done.Chief Inspector Heat, crossing the shop at his busy, swinging pace, gave her only a cursory glance.And when the cracked bell ceased to tremble on its curved ribbon of steel nothing stirred near Mrs Verloc, as if her attitude had the locking power of a spell.Even the butterfly-shaped gas flames posed on the ends of the suspended T-bracket burned without a quiver.In that shop of shady wares fitted with deal shelves painted a dull brown, which seemed to devour the sheen of the light, the gold circlet of the wedding ring on Mrs Verloc's left hand glittered exceedingly with the untarnished glory of a piece from some splendid treasure of jewels, dropped in a dust-bin.
