Section 20

Mrs Verloc would have gone through the parlour and on to her domestic duties in the kitchen with the perfect serenity of a woman
THE SECRET AGENT 271
sure of the power of her charms. But a slight, very slight, and rapid rattling sound grew upon her hearing. Bizarre and incomprehensible, it arrested Mrs Verloc's attention. Then as its character became plain to the ear she stopped short, amazed and concerned. Striking a match on the box she held in her hand, she turned on and lighted, above the parlour table, one of the two gas-burners, which, being defective, first whistled as if astonished, and then went on purring comfortably like a cat.
Mr Verloc, against his usual practice, had thrown off his overcoat. It was lying on the sofa. His hat, which he must also have thrown off, rested overturned under the edge of the sofa. He had dragged a chair in front of the fireplace, and his feet planted inside the fender, his head held between his hands, he was hanging low over the glowing grate. His teeth rattled with an ungovernable violence, causing his whole enormous back to tremble at the same rate. Mrs Verloc was startled.
"You've been getting wet," she said.
" Not very," Mr Verloc managed to falter out, in a profound shudder. By a great effort he suppressed the rattling of his teeth.
" I'll have you laid up on my hands," she said, with genuine uneasiness,
272 THE SECRET AGENT
"I don't think so," remarked Mr Verloc, snuffling huskily.
He had certainly contrived somehow to catch an abominable cold between seven in the morn- ing and five in the afternoon. Mrs Verloc looked at his bowed back.
" Where have you been to-day ? " she asked.
" Nowhere," answered Mr Verloc in a low, choked nasal tone. His attitude suggested aggrieved sulks or a severe headache. The unsufficiency and uncandidness of his answer became painfully apparent in the dead silence of the room. He snuffled apologetically, and added : " I've been to the bank."
Mrs Verloc became attentive.
" You have ! " she said dispassionately. "What for?"
Mr Verloc mumbled, with his nose over the grate, and with marked unwillingness.
" Draw the money out ! "
" What do you mean ? All of it ? "
"Yes. All of it."
Mrs Verloc spread out with care the scanty table-cloth, got two knives and two forks out of the table drawer, and suddenly stopped in her methodical proceedings.
" What did you do that for ? "
"May want it soon," snuffled vaguely Mr
THE SECRET AGENT 273
Verloc, who was coming to the end of his calculated indiscretions.
" I don't know what you mean/ 1 remarked his wife in a tone perfectly casual, but standing stock still between the table and the cupboard.
44 You know you can trust me/ 1 Mr Verloc remarked to the grate, with hoarse feeling.
Mrs Verloc turned slowly towards the cup- board, saying with deliberation :
" Oh yes. I can trust you/'
And she went on with her methodical pro- ceedings. She laid two plates, got the bread, the butter, going to and fro quietly between the table and the cupboard in the peace and silence of her home. On the point of taking out the jam, she reflected practically : " He will be feeling hungry, having been away all day," and she returned to the cupboard once more to get the cold beef. She set it under the purring gas-jet, and with a passing glance at her motion- less husband hugging the fire, she went (down two steps) into the kitchen. It was only when coming back, carving knife and fork in hand, that she spoke again.
" If I hadn't trusted you I wouldn't have married you/'
Bowed under the overmantel, Mr Verloc, holding his head in both hands, seemed to
274 THE SECRET AGENT
gone to sleep. Winnie made the tea, and called out in an undertone :
" Adolf."
Mr Verloc got up at once, and staggered a little before he sat down at the table. His wife examining the sharp edge of the carving knife, placed it on the dish, and called his attention to the cold beef. He remained insensible to the suggestion, with his chin on his breast.
"You should feed your cold," Mrs Verloc said dogmatically.
He looked up, and shook his head. His eyes were bloodshot and his face red. His fingers had ruffled his hair into a dissipated untidiness. Altogether he had a disreputable aspect, expres- sive of the discomfort, the irritation and the gloom following a heavy debauch. But Mr Verloc was not a debauched man. In his conduct he was respectable. His appearance might have been the effect of a feverish cold. He drank three cups of tea, but abstained from food entirely. He recoiled from it with sombre aversion when urged by Mrs Verloc, who said at last:
" Aren't your feet wet ? You had better put on your slippers. You aren't going out any more this evening."
Mr Verloc intimated by morose grunts and
THE SECRET AGENT 275
signs that his feet were not wet, and that any- how he did not care. The proposal as to slippers was disregarded as beneath his notice. But the question of going oui in the evening received an unexpected development. It was not of going out in the evening that Mr Verloc was thinking. His thoughts embraced a vaster scheme. From moody and incomplete phrases it became apparent that Mr Verloc had been considering the expediency of emigrating. It was not very clear whether he had in his mind France or California.
The utter unexpectedness, improbability, and inconceivableness of such an event robbed this vague declaration of all its effect. Mrs Verloc, as placidly as if her husband had been threaten- ing her with the end of the world, said :
" The idea ! *
Mr Verloc declared himself sick and tired of
everything, and besides She interrupted
him.
" You've a bad cold"
It was indeed obvious that Mr Verloc was not in his usual state, physically and even mentally. A sombre irresolution held him silent for a while. Then he murmured a few ominous generalities on the theme of necessity.
"Will have to," repeated Winnie, sitting calmly
276 THE SECRET AGENT
back, with folded arms, opposite her husband. " I should like to know who's to make you. You ain't a slave. No one need be a slave in this country and don't you make yourself one." She paused, and with invincible and steady candour. " The business isn't so bad," she went on. " You've a comfortable home."
She glanced all round the parlour, from the corner cupboard to the good fire in the grate. Ensconced cosily behind the shop of doubtful wares, with the mysteriously dim window, and its door suspiciously ajar in the obscure and narrow street, it was in all essentials of domes- tic propriety and domestic comfort a respect- able home. Her devoted affection missed out of it her brother Stevie, now enjoying a damp villegiature in the Kentish lanes under the care of Mr Michaelis. She missed him poignantly, with all the force of her protecting passion. This was the boy's home too the roof, the cupboard, the stoked grate. On this thought Mrs Verloc rose, and walking to the other end of the table, said in the fulness of her heart :
" And you are not tired of me."
Mr Verloc made no sound. Winnie leaned on his shoulder from behind, and pressed her lips to his forehead. Thus she lingered. Not a whisper reached them from the outside world
THE SECRET AGENT 277
The sound of footsteps on the pavement died out in the discreet dimness of the shop. Only the gas-jet above the table went on purring equably in the brooding silence of the parlour.
During the contact of that unexpected and lingering kiss Mr Verloc, gripping with both hands the edges of his chair, preserved a hieratic immobility. When the pressure was removed he let go the chair, rose, and went to stand before the fireplace. He turned no longer his back to the room. With his features swollen and an air of being drugged, he followed his wife's movements with his eyes.
Mrs Verloc went about serenely, clearing up the table. Her tranquil voice commented the idea thrown out in a reasonable and domestic tone. It wouldn't stand examination. She condemned it from every point of view. But her only real concern was Stevie's welfare. He appeared to her thought in that connection as sufficiently "peculiar " not to be taken rashly abroad. And that was all. But talking round that vital point, she approached absolute vehem- ence in her delivery. Meanwhile, with brusque movements, she arrayed herself in an apron for the washing up of cups. And as if excited by the sound of her uncontradicted voice, she went so far as to say in a tone almost tart :
278 THE SECRET AGENT
" If you go abroad you'll have to go with-
out me."
"You know I wouldn't/' said Mr Verloc huskily, and the unresonant voice of his private life trembled with an enigmatical emotion.
Already Mrs Verloc was regretting her words. They had sounded more unkind than she meant them to be. They had also the un- wisdom of unnecessary things. In fact, she had not meant them at all. It was a sort of phrase that is suggested by the demon of per- verse inspiration. But she knew a way to make it as if it had not been.
She turned her head over her shoulder and gave that man planted heavily in front of the fireplace a glance, half arch, half cruel, out of her large eyes a glance of which the Winnie of the Belgravian mansion days would have been incapable, because of her respectability and her ignorance. But the man was her husband now, and she was no longer ignorant. She kept it on him for a whole second, with her grave face motionless like a mask, while she said playfully :
"You couldn't. Youwould miss me too much."
Mr Verloc started forward.
" Exactly," he said in a louder tone, throwing his arms out and making a step towards her. Something* wild and doubtful in his expression
THE SEC&ET AGENT 279
made it appear uncertain whether he meant to strangle or to embrace his wife. But Mrs Verloc's attention was called away from that manifestation by the clatter of the shop bell.
"Shop, Adolf. You go."
He stopped, his arms came down slowly.
" You go/' repeated Mrs Verloc. " I've got my apron on."
Mr Verloc obeyed woodenly, stony-eyed, and like an automaton whose face had been painted red. And this resemblance to a mechanical figure went so far that he had an automaton's absurd air of being aware of the machinery inside of him.
He closed the parlour door, and Mrs Verloc moving briskly, carried the tray into the kitchen. She washed the cups and some other things before she stopped in her work to listen. No sound reached her. The customer was a long time in the shop. It was a customer, because if he had not been Mr Verloc would have taken him inside. Undoing the strings of her apron with a jerk, she threw it on a chair, and walked back to the parlour slowly.
At that precise moment Mr Verloc entered from the shop.
He had gone in red. He came out a strange papery white. His face, losing its drugged,
280 THE SECftfit AGENT
feverish stupor, had in that short time acquired a bewildered and harassed expression. He walked straight to the sofa, and stood looking down at his overcoat lying there, as though he were afraid to touch it.
" What's the matter ? " asked Mrs Verloc in a subdued voice. Through the door left ajar she could see that the customer was not gone yet.
" I find I'll have to go out this evening," said Mr Verloc. He did not attempt to pick up his outer garment.
Without a word Winnie made for the shop, and shutting the door after her, walked in behind the counter. She did not look overtly at the customer till she had established herself com- fortably on the chair. But by that time she had noted that he was tall and thin, and wore his moustaches twisted up. In fact, he gave the sharp points a twist just then. His long, bony face rose out of a turned-up collar. He was a little splashed, a little wet. A dark man, with the ridge of the cheek-bone well defined under the slightly hollow temple. A complete stranger. Not a customer either.
Mrs Verloc looked at him placidly.
"You came over from the Continent?" she said after a time.
The long, thin stranger, without exactly look-
THE SECRET AGENT 281
ing at Mrs Verloc, answered only by a faint and peculiar smile.
Mrs Verloc's steady, incurious gaze rested on him.
"You understand English, don't you?"
"Oh yes. I understand English/'
There was nothing foreign in his accent, except that he seemed in his slow enunciation to be taking pains with it. And Mrs Verloc, in her varied experience, had come to the conclusion that some foreigners could speak better English than the natives. She said, looking at the door of the parlour fixedly :
"You don't think perhaps of staying in England for good?"
The stranger gave her again a silent smile. He had a kindly mouth and probing eyes. And he shook his head a little sadly, it seemed.
" My husband will see you through all right. Meantime for a few days you couldn't do better than take lodgings with Mr Giugliani. Conti- nental Hotel it's called. Private. It's quiet. My husband will take you there."
" A good idea," said the thin, dark man, whose glance had hardened suddenly.
"You knew Mr Verloc before didn't you? Perhaps in France ? "
11 1 have heard of him," admitted the visitor
282 THE SECRET AGENT
in his slow, painstaking tone, which yet had a certain curtness of intention.
There was a pause. Then he spoke again, in a far less elaborate manner.
" Your husband has not gone out to wait for me in the street by chance ? "
" In the street ! " repeated Mrs Verloc, sur- prised. " He couldn't. There's no other door to the house/'
For a moment she sat impassive, then left her seat to go and peep through the glazed door. Suddenly she opened it, and disappeared into the parlour..
Mr Verloc had done no more than put on his overcoat. But why he should remain after- wards leaning over the table propped up on his two arms as though he were feeling giddy or sick, she could not understand. "Adolf," she called out half aloud; and when he had raised himself:
" Do you know that man ? " she asked rapidly.
" I've heard of him," whispered uneasily Mr Verloc, darting a wild glance at the door.
Mrs Verloc's fine, incurious eyes lighted up with a flash of abhorrence.
"One of Karl Yundt's friends beastly old
man."
" No ! No ! " protested Mr Verloc, busy fish- ing for his hat. But when he got it from under
THE SECRET AGENT 283
the sofa he held it as if he did not know the use of a hat.
"Well he's waiting for you/* said Mrs Verloc at last. " I say, Adolf, he ain't one of them Embassy people you have been bothered with of late?"
" Bothered with Embassy people," repeated Mr Verloc, with a heavy start of surprise and fear. " Who's been talking to you of the Embassy people?"
-Yourself."
- I ! I ! Talked of the Embassy to you ! "
Mr Verloc seemed scared and bewildered beyond measure. His wife explained :
"You've been talking a little in your sleep of late, Adolf."
" What what did I say ? What do you know?"
" Nothing much. It seemed mostly nonsense. Enough to let me guess that something worried you."
Mr Verloc rammed his hat on his head, A crimson flood of anger ran over his face.
" Nonsense eh ? The Embassy people ! I would cut their hearts out one after another. But let them look out. I've got a tongue in my head."
He fumed, pacing up and down between the
284 THE SECRET AGENT
table and the sofa, his open overcoat catching against the angles. The red flood of anger ebbed out, and left his face all white, with quivering nostrils. Mrs Verloc, for the purposes of practical existence, put down these appear- ances to the cold.
"Well/* she said, "get rid of the man, who- ever he is, as soon as you can, and come-back home to me. You want looking after for a day or two/'
Mr Verloc calmed down, and, with resolution imprinted on his pale face, had already openedthe door, when his wife called him back in a whisper:
" Adolf! Adolf!" He came back startled. "What about that money you drew out?" she asked You've got it in your pocket ? Hadn't you better "
Mr Verloc gazed stupidly into the palm of his wife's extended hand for some time before he slapped his brow.
"Money ! Yes ! Yes ! I didn't know what you meant. *
He drew out of his breast pocket a new pigskin pocket-book. Mrs Verloc received it without another word, and stood still till the bell, clattering after Mr Verloc and Mr Verloc's visitor, had quieted down. Only then she peeped in at the amount, drawing the notes
THE SECRET AGENT 285
out for the purpose. After this inspection she looked round thoughtfully, with an air of mistrust in the silence and solitude of the house. This abode of her married life appeared to her as lonely and unsafe as though it had been situated in the midst of a forest. No receptacle she could think of amongst the solid, heavy furniture seemed other but flimsy and particu- larly tempting to her conception of a house- breaker. It was an ideal conception, endowed with sublime faculties and a miraculous insight. The till was not to be thought of. It was the first spot a thief would make for. Mrs Verloc unfastening hastily a couple of hooks, slipped the pocket-book under the bodice of her dress. Having thus disposed of her husband's capital, she was rather glad to hear the clatter of the door bell, announcing an arrival. Assuming the fixed, unabashed stare and the stony expres- sion reserved for the casual customer, she walked in behind the counter.