Hewasreposinginthatpatheticconditionofoptimisminducedbyexcessoffatigue。Hedidnotwantanymoretrouble—withhiswife，too—ofallpeopleintheworld。Hehadbeenunanswerableinhisvindication。Hewaslovedforhimself。Thepresentphaseofhersilenceheinterpretedfavourably。Thiswasthetimetomakeitupwithher。Thesilencehadlastedlongenough。Hebrokeitbycallingtoherinanundertone:
`Winnie。’
`Yes，’answeredobedientlyMrsVerlocthefreewoman。Shecommandedherwitsnow，hervocalorgans;shefeltherselftobeinanalmostpreternaturallyperfectcontrolofeveryfibreofherbody。Itwasallherown，becausethebargainwasatanend。Shewasclearsighted。Shehadbecomecunning。
Shechosetoanswerhimsoreadilyforapurpose。Shedidnotwishthatmantochangehispositiononthesofawhichwasverysuitabletothecircumstances。
Shesucceeded。Themandidnotstir。Butafteransweringhimsheremainedleaningnegligentlyagainstthemantelpieceintheattitudeofarestingwayfarer。Shewasunhurried。Herbrowwassmooth。TheheadandshouldersofMrVerlocwerehiddenfromherbythehighsideofthesofa。Shekepthereyesfixedonhisfeet。
SheremainedthusmysteriouslystillandsuddenlycollectedtillMrVerlocwasheardwithanaccentofmaritalauthority，andmovingslightlytomakeroomforhertositontheedgeofthesofa。
`Comehere，’hesaidinapeculiartone，whichmighthavebeenthetoneofbrutality，butwasintimatelyknowntoMrsVerlocasthenoteofwooing。
Shestartedforwardatonce，asifshewasstillaloyalwomanboundtothatmanbyanunbrokencontract。Herrighthadskimmedslightlytheendofthetable，andwhenshehadpassedontowardsthesofathecarvingknifehadvanishedwithouttheslightestsoundfromthesideofthedish。
MrVerlocheardthecreakyplankinthefloor，andwascontent。Hewaited。
MrsVerlocwascoming。AsifthehomelesssoulofSteviehadflownforshelterstraighttothebreastofhissister，guardianandprotector，theresemblanceofherfacewiththatofherbrothergrewateverystep，eventothedroopofthelowerlip，eventotheslightdivergenceoftheeyes。
ButMrVerlocdidnotseethat。Hewaslyingonhisbackandstaringupwards。
Hesawpartlyontheceilingaclenchedhandholdingacarvingknife。Itflickeredupanddown。Itsmovementswereleisurely。TheywereleisurelyenoughforMrVerloctorecognizethelimbandtheweapon。
Theywereleisurelyenoughforhimtotakeinthefullmeaningoftheportent，andtotastetheflavourofdeathrisinginhisgorge。Hiswifehadgoneravingmad—murderingmad。Theywereleisurelyenoughforthefirstparalysingeffectofthisdiscoverytopassawaybeforearesolutedeterminationtocomeoutvictoriousfromtheghastlystrugglewiththatarmedlunatic。TheywereleisurelyenoughforMrVerloctoelaborateaplanofdefence，involvingadashbehindthetable，andthefellingofthewomantothegroundwithaheavywoodenchair。ButtheywerenotleisurelyenoughtoallowMrVerlocthetimetomoveeitherhandorfoot。Theknifewasalreadyplantedinhisbreast。Itmetnoresistanceonitsway。Hazardhassuchaccuracies。Intothatplungingblow，deliveredoverthesideofthecouch，MrsVerlochadputalltheinheritanceofherimmemorialandobscuredescent，thesimpleferocityoftheageofcaverns，andtheunbalancednervousfuryoftheageofbar—rooms。MrVerloc，thesecretagent，turningslightlyonhissidewiththeforceoftheblow，expiredwithoutstirringalimb，inthemutteredsoundoftheword`Don’t’bywayofprotest。
MrsVerlochadletgotheknife，andherextraordinaryresemblancetoherlatebrotherhadfaded，hadbecomeveryordinary。Shedrewadeepbreath，thefirsteasybreathsinceChiefInspectorHeathadexhibitedtoherthelabelledpieceofStevie’sovercoat。Sheleanedforwardonherfoldedarmsoverthesideofthesofa。SheadoptedthateasyattitudenotinordertowatchorgloatoverthebodyofMrVerloc，butbecauseoftheundulatoryandswingingmovementsoftheparlour，whichforsometimebehavedasthoughitwereatseainatempest。Shewasgiddybutcalm。Shehadbecomeafreewomanwithaperfectionoffreedomwhichlefthernothingtodesireandabsolutelynothingtodo，sinceStevie’surgentclaimonherdevotionnolongerexisted。MrsVerloc，whothoughtinimages，wasnottroublednowbyvisions，becauseshedidnotthinkatall。Andshedidnotmove。Shewasawomanenjoyinghercompleteirresponsibilityandendlessleisure，almostinthemannerofacorpse。Shedidnotmove，shedidnotthink。
NeitherdidthemortalenvelopeofthelateMrVerlocreposingonthesofa。
ExceptforthefactthatMrsVerlocbreathedthesetwowouldhavebeenperfectlyinaccord:thataccordofprudentreservewithoutsuperfluouswords，andsparingofsigns，whichhadbeenthefoundationoftheirrespectablehomelife。Forithadbeenrespectable，coveringbyadecentreticencetheproblemsthatmayariseinthepracticeofasecretprofessionandthecommerceofshadywares。Tothelastitsdecorumhadremainedundisturbedbyunseemlyshrieksandothermisplacedsinceritiesofconduct。Andafterthestrikingoftheblow，thisrespectabilitywascontinuedinimmobilityandsilence。
NothingmovedintheparlourtillMrsVerlocraisedherheadslowlyandlookedattheclockwithinquiringmistrust。Shehadbecomeawareofatickingsoundintheroom。Itgrewuponherear，whilesherememberedclearlythattheclockonthewallwassilent，hadnoaudibletick。Whatdiditmeanbybeginningtoticksoloudlyallofasudden？Itsfaceindicatedtenminutestonine。MrsVerloccarednothingfortime，andthetickingwenton。Sheconcludeditcouldnotbetheclock，andhersullengazemovedalongthewalls，wavered，andbecamevague，whileshestrainedherhearingColocatethesound。Tic，tic，tic。
AfterlisteningforsometimeMrVerlocloweredhergazedeliberatelyonherhusband’sbody。Itsattitudeofreposewassohomelikeandfamiliarthatshecoulddosowithoutfeelingembarrassedbyanypronouncednoveltyinthephenomenaofherhomelife。MrVerlocwastakinghishabitualease。
Helookedcomfortable。
BythepositionofthebodythefaceofMrVerlocwasnotvisibletoMrsVerloc，hiswidow。Herfine，sleepyeyes，travellingdownwardonthetrackofthesound，becamecontemplativeonmeetingaflatobjectofbonewhichprotrudedalittlebeyondtheedgeofthesofa。ItwasthehandleofthedomesticcarvingknifewithnothingstrangeaboutitbutitspositionatrightanglestoMrVerloc’swaistcoatandthefactthatsomethingdrippedfromit。Darkdropsfellonthefloorclothoneafteranother，withasoundoftickinggrowingfastandfuriouslikethepulseofaninsaneclock。
Atitshighestspeedthistickingchangedintoacontinuoussoundoftrickling。
MrsVerlocwatchedthattransformationwithshadowsofanxietycomingandgoingonherface。Itwasatrickle，dark，swift，thin……Blood！
AtthisunforeseencircumstanceMrsVerlocabandonedherposeofidlenessandirresponsibility。
Withasuddensnatchatherskirtsandafaintshrieksherantothedoor，asifthetricklehadbeenthefirstsignofadestroyingflood。
Findingthetableinherwayshegaveitapushwithbothhandsasthoughithadbeenalive，withsuchforcethatitwentforsomedistanceonitsfourlegs，makingaloud，scrapingracket，whilstthebigdishwiththejointcrashedheavilyonthefloor。
Thenallbecamestill。MrsVerloconreachingthedoorhadstopped。
Aroundhatdisclosedinthemiddleofthefloorbythemovingofthetablerockedslightlyonitscrowninthewindofherflight。
CONRAD:TheSecretAgent，Chapter12CHAPTER12
WINNIEVERLOC，thewidowofMrVerloc，thesisterofthelatefaithfulStevie（blowntofragmentsinastateofinnocenceandintheconvictionofbeingengagedinahumanitarianenterprise），didnotrunbeyondthedooroftheparlour。Shehadindeedrunawaysofarfromameretrickleofblood，butthatwasamovementofinstinctiverepulsion。Andthereshehadpaused，withstaringeyesandloweredhead。Asthoughshehadrunthroughlongyearsinherflightacrossthesmallparlour，MrsVerlocbythedoorwasquiteadifferentpersonfromthewomanwhohadbeenleaningoverthesofa，alittleswimmyinherhead，butotherwisefreetoenjoytheprofoundcalmofidlenessandirresponsibility……MrsVerlocwasnolongergiddy。
Herheadwassteady。Ontheotherhand，shewasnolongercalm。Shewasafraid。
Ifsheavoidedlookinginthedirectionofherreposinghusbanditwasnotbecauseshewasafraidofhim。MrVerlocwasnotfrightfultobehold。
Helookedcomfortable。Moreover，hewasdead。MrsVerlocentertainednovain`delusionsonthesubject’ofthedead。Nothingbringsthemback，neitherlovenorhate。Theycandonothingtoyou。Theyareasnothing。
Hermentalstatewastingedbyasortofausterecontemptforthatmanwhohadlethimselfbekilledsoeasily。Hehadbeenthemasterofahouse，thehusbandofawoman，andthemurdererofherStevie。Andnowhewasofnoaccountineveryrespect。Hewasoflesspracticalaccountthantheclothingonhisbody，thanhisovercoat，thanhisboots—thanthathatlyingonthefloor。Hewasnothing。Hewasnotworthlookingat。HewasevennolongerthemurdererofpoorStevie。TheonlymurdererthatwouldbefoundintheroomwhenpeoplecametolookforMrVerlocwouldbe—
herself！
Herhandsshooksothatshefailedtwiceinthetaskofrefasteningherveil。MrsVerlocwasnolongerapersonofleisureandirresponsibility。
Shewasafraid。ThestabbingofMrVerlochadbeenonlyablow。Ithadrelievedthepent—upagonyofshrieksstrangledinherthroat，oftearsdriedupinherhoteyes，ofthemaddeningandindignantrageattheatrociouspartplayedbythatman，whowaslessthannothingnow，inrobbingheroftheboy。Ithadbeenanobscurelypromptedblow。Thebloodtricklingontheflooroffthehandleoftheknifehadturneditintoanextremelyplaincaseofmurder。MrsVerloc，whoalwaysrefrainedfromlookingdeepintothings，wascompelledtolookintotheverybottomofthisthing。
Shesawtherenohauntingface，noreproachfulshade，novisionofremorse，nosortofidealconception。Shesawthereanobject。Thatobjectwasthegallows。MrsVerlocwasafraidofthegallows。
Shewasterrifiedofthemideally。Havingneverseteyesonthelastargumentofmen’sjusticeexceptinillustrativewoodcutstoacertaintypeoftales，shefirstsawthemerectagainstablackandstormybackground，festoonedwithchainsandhumanbones，circledaboutbybirdsthatpeckatdeadmen’seyes。Thiswasfrightfulenough，butMrsVerloc，thoughnotawell—informedwoman，hadasufficientknowledgeoftheinstitutionsofhercountrytoknowthatgallowsarenolongererectedromanticallyonthebanksofdismalriversoronwind—sweptheadlands，butintheyardsofjails。Therewithinfourhighwalls，asifintoapit，atdawnofday，themurdererwasbroughtouttobeexecuted，withahorriblequietnessand，asthereportsinthenewspapersalwayssaid，`inthepresenceoftheauthorities’。Withhereyesstaringonthefloor，hernostrilsquiveringwithanguishandshame，sheimaginedherselfallaloneamongstalotofstrangegentlemeninsilkhatswhowerecalmlyproceedingaboutthebusinessofhangingherbytheneck。That—never！Never！Andhowwasitdone？Theimpossibilityofimaginingthedetailsofsuchquietexecutionaddedsomethingmaddeningtoherabstractterror。Thenewspapersnevergaveanydetailsexceptone，butthatonewithsomeaffectionwasalwaysthereattheendofameagrereport。MrsVerlocremembereditsnature。Itcamewithacruelburningpainintoherhead，asifthewords`Thedropgivenwasfourteenfeet’hadbeenscratchedonherbrainwithahotneedle。`Thedropgivenwasfourteenfeet。’
Thesewordsaffectedherphysically，too。Herthroatbecameconvulsedinwavestoresiststrangulation;andtheapprehensionofthejerkwassovividthatsheseizedherheadinbothhandsasiftosaveitfrombeingtornoffhershoulders。`Thedropgivenwasfourteenfeet。’No！thatmustneverbe。Shecouldnotstandthat。Thethoughtofitevenwasnotbearable。
Shecouldnotstandthinkingofit。ThereforeMrsVerlocformedtheresolutiontogoatonceandthrowherselfintotheriveroffoneofthebridges。
Thistimeshemanagedtorefastenherveil。Withherfaceasifmasked，allblackfromheadtofootexceptforsomeflowersinherhat，shelookedupmechanicallyattheclock。Shethoughtitmusthavestopped。Shecouldnotbelievethatonlytwominuteshadpassedsinceshehadlookedatitlast。Ofcoursenot。Ithadbeenstoppedallthetime。Asamatteroffact，onlythreeminuteshadelapsedfromthemomentshehaddrawnthefirstdeep，easybreathaftertheblow，tothismomentwhenMrsVerlocformedtheresolutiontodrownherselfintheThames。ButMrsVerloccouldnotbelievethat。Sheseemedtohaveheardorreadthatclocksandwatchesalwaysstoppedatthemomentofmurderfortheundoingofthemurderer。
Shedidnotcare。`Tothebridge—andoverIgo。’……Buthermovementswereslow。
Shedraggedherselfpainfullyacrosstheshop，andhadtoholdontothehandleofthedoorbeforeshefoundthenecessaryfortitudetoopenit。Thestreetfrightenedher，sinceitledeithertothegallowsortotheriver。Sheflounderedoverthedoorstepheadforward，armsthrownout，likeapersonfallingovertheparapetofabridge。Thisentranceintotheopenairhadaforetasteofdrowning;aslimydampnessenvelopedher，enteredhernostrils，clungtoherhair。Itwasnotactuallyraining，buteachgaslamphadarustylittlehaloofmist。Thevanandhorsesweregone，andintheblackstreetthecurtainedwindowofthecarters’eating—housemadeasquarepatchofsoiledblood—redlightglowingfaintlyverynearthelevelofthepavement。MrsVerloc，draggingherselfslowlytowardsit，thoughtthatshewasaveryfriendlesswoman。Itwastrue。Itwassotruethat，inasuddenlongingtoseesomefriendlyface，shecouldthinkofnooneelsebutofMrsNeale，thecharwoman。Shehadnoacquaintancesofherown。Nobodywouldmissherinasocialway。ItmustnotbeimaginedthattheWidowVerlochadforgottenhermother。Thiswasnotso。Winniehadbeenagooddaughterbecauseshehadbeenadevotedsister。Hermotherhadalwaysleanedonherforsupport。Noconsolationoradvicecouldbeexpectedthere。NowthatSteviewasdeadthebondseemedtobebroken。
Shecouldnotfacetheoldwomanwiththehorribletale。Moreover，itwastoofar。Theriverwasherpresentdestination。MrsVerloctriedtoforgethermother。
Eachstepcostheraneffortofwillwhichseemedthelastpossible。
MrsVerlochaddraggedherselfpasttheredglowoftheeating—housewindow。
`Tothebridge—andoverIgo，’sherepeatedtoherselfwithfierceobstinacy。
Sheputoutherhandjustintimetosteadyherselfagainstalamp—post。
`I’llnevergettherebeforemorning，’shethought。Thefearofdeathparalysedhereffortstoescapethegallows。Itseemedtohershehadbeenstaggeringinthatstreetforhours。`I’llnevergetthere，’shethought。`They’llfindmeknockingaboutthestreets。It’stoofar。’Sheheldon，pantingunderherblackveil。
`Thedropgivenwasfourteenfeet。’
Shepushedthelamp—postawayfromherviolently，andfoundherselfwalking。Butanotherwaveoffaintnessovertookherlikeagreatsea，washingawayherheartcleanoutofherbreast。`Iwillnevergetthere，’shemuttered，suddenlyarrested，swayinglightlywhereshestood。`Never。’
Andperceivingtheutterimpossibilityofwalkingasfarasthenearestbridge，MrsVerlocthoughtofaflightabroad。
Itcametohersuddenly。Murderersescaped。Theyescapedabroad。SpainorCalifornia。Merenames。ThevastworldcreatedforthegloryofmanwasonlyavastblanktoMrsVerloc。Shedidnotknowwhichwaytoturn。
Murderershadfriends，relations，helpers—theyhadknowledge。Shehadnothing。Shewasthemostlonelyofmurderersthateverstruckamortalblow。ShewasaloneinLondon:andthewholetownofmarvelsandmud，withitsmazeofstreetsanditsmassoflights，wassunkinahopelessnight，restedatthebottomofablackabyssfromwhichnounaidedwomancouldhopetoscrambleout。
Sheswayedforward，andmadeafreshstartblindly，withanawfuldreadoffallingdown;butattheendofafewsteps，unexpectedly，shefoundasensationofsupport，ofsecurity。Raisingherhead，shesawaman’sfacepeeringcloselyatherveil。ComradeOssiponwasnotafraidofstrangewomen，andnofeelingoffalsedelicacycouldpreventhimfromstrikinganacquaintancewithawomanapparentlyverymuchintoxicated。ComradeOssiponwasinterestedinwomen。Heheldupthisonebetweenhistwolargepalms，peeringatherinabusiness—likewaytillheheardhersayfaintly`MrOssipon！’andthenheverynearlyletherdroptotheground。
`MrsVerloc！’heexclaimed。`Youhere！’
Itseemedimpossibletohimthatsheshouldhavebeendrinking。Butoneneverknows。Hedidnotgointothatquestion，butattentivenottodiscouragekindfatesurrenderingtohimthewidowofComradeVerloc，hetriedtodrawhertohisbreast。Tohisastonishmentshecamequiteeasily，andevenrestedonhisarmforamomentbeforesheattemptedtodisengageherself。ComradeOssiponwouldnotbebrusquewithkindfate。Hewithdrewhisarminanaturalway。
`Yourecognizedme，’shefalteredout，standingbeforehim，fairlysteadyonherlegs。
`OfcourseIdid，’saidOssiponwithperfectreadiness。`Iwasafraidyouweregoingtofall。I’vethoughtofyoutoooftenlatelynottorecognizeyouanywhere，atanytime。I’vealwaysthoughtofyou—eversinceIfirstseteyesonyou。MrsVerlocseemednottohear。`Youwerecomingtotheshop？’shesaid，nervously。
`Yes;atonce，’answeredOssipon。`DirectlyIreadthepaper。’
Infact，ComradeOssiponhadbeenskulkingforagoodtwohoursintheneighbourhoodofBrettStreet，unabletomakeuphismindforaboldmove。
Therobustanarchistwasnotexactlyaboldconqueror。HerememberedthatMrsVerlochadneverrespondedtohisglancesbytheslightestsignofencouragement。Besides，hethoughttheshopmightbewatchedbythepolice，andComradeOssipondidnotwishthepolicetoformanexaggeratednotionofhisrevolutionarysympathies。Evennowhedidnotknowpreciselywhattodo。Incomparisonwithhisusualamatoryspeculationsthiswasabigandseriousundertaking。Heignoredhowmuchtherewasinitandhowfarhewouldhavetogoinordertogetholdofwhattherewastoget—supposingtherewasachanceatall。Theseperplexitiescheckinghiselationimpartedtohistoneasobernesswellinkeepingwiththecircumstances。
`MayIaskyouwhereyouweregoing？’heinquiredinasubduedvoice。
`Don’taskme！’criedMrsVerlocwithashuddering，repressedviolence。
Allherstrongvitalityrecoiledfromtheideaofdeath。`Nevermindwhere1wasgoing……’
Ossiponconcludedthatshewasverymuchexcitedbutperfectlysober。
Sheremainedsilentbyhissideforamoment，thenallatonceshedidsomethingwhichhedidnotexpect。Sheslippedherhandunderhisarm。
Hewasstartledbytheactitselfcertainly，andquiteasmuch，too，bythepalpablyresolutecharacterofthismovement。Butthisbeingadelicateaffair，ComradeOssiponbehavedwith，delicacy。Hecontentedhimselfbypressingthehandslightlyagainsthisrobustribs。Atthesametimehefelthimselfbeingimpelledforward，andyieldedtotheimpulse。AttheendofBrettStreethebecameawareofbeingdirectedtotheleft。Hesubmitted。
Thefruitereratthecornerhadputouttheblazinggloryofhisorangesandlemons，andBrettPlacewasalldarkness，interspersedwiththemistyhalosofthefewlampsdefiningitstriangularshape，withaclusterofthreelightsononestandinthemiddle。Thedarkformsofthemanandwomanglidedslowlyarminarmalongthewallswithaloverlikeandhomelessaspectinthemiserablenight。
`WhatwouldyousayifIweretotellyouthatIwasgoingtofindyou？’
MrsVerlocasked，grippinghisarmwithforce。
`Iwouldsaythatyoucouldn’tfindanyonemorereadytohelpyouinyourtrouble，’answeredOssipon，withanotionofmakingtremendousheadway。
Infact，theprogressofthisdelicateaffairwasalmosttakinghisbreathaway。
`Inmytrouble！’MrsVerlocrepeated，slowly。
`Yes。’
`Anddoyouknowwhatmytroubleis？’shewhisperedwithstrangeintensity。
`Tenminutesafterseeingtheeveningpaper，’explainedOssiponwithardour，`Imetafellowwhomyoumayhaveseenonceortwiceattheshopperhaps，andIhadatalkwithhimwhichleftnodoubtwhateverinmymind。
ThenIstartedforhere，wonderingwhetheryou—I’vebeenfondofyoubeyondwordseversinceIseteyesonyourface，’hecried，asifunabletocommandhisfeelings。
ComradeOssiponassumedcorrectlythatnowomanwascapableofwhollydisbelievingsuchastatement。ButhedidnotknowthatMrsVerlocaccepteditwithallthefiercenesstheinstinctofselfpreservationinpartstothegripofadrowningperson。TothewidowofMrVerloctherobustanarchistwaslikearadiantmessengeroflife。
Theywalkedslowly，instep。`Ithoughtso，’MrsVerlocmurmured，faintly。
`You’vereaditinmyeyes，’suggestedOssiponwithgreatassurance。
`Yes，’shebreathedoutintohisinclinedear。
`Alovelikeminecouldnotbeconcealedfromawomanlikeyou，’hewenton，tryingtodetachhismindfrommaterialconsiderations，suchasthebusinessvalueoftheshop，andtheamountofmoneyMrVerlocmighthaveleftinthebank。Heappliedhimselftothesentimentalsideoftheaffair。Inhisheartofheartshewasalittleshockedathissuccess。
Verlochadbeenagoodfellow，andcertainlyaverydecenthusbandasfarasonecouldsee。However，ComradeOssiponwasnotgoingtoquarrelwithhisluckforthesakeofadeadman。ResolutelyhesuppressedhissympathyfortheghostofComradeVerloc，andwenton:
`Icouldnotconcealit。Iwastoofullofyou。Idaresayyoucouldnothelpseeingitinmyeyes。ButIcouldnotguessit。Youwerealwayssodistant……’
`Whatelsedidyouexpect？’burstoutMrsVerloc。`Iwasarespectablewoman——’
Shepaused，thenadded，asifspeakingtoherself，insinisterresentment:
`TillhemademewhatIam。’
Ossiponletthatpass，andtookuphisrunning。
`Heneverdidseemtometobequiteworthyofyou，’hebegan，throwingloyaltytothewinds。`Youwereworthyofabetterfate。’
MrsVerlocinterruptedbitterly:
`Betterfate！Hecheatedmeoutofsevenyearsoflife。’
`Youseemedtolivesohappilywithhim。’Ossipontriedtoexculpatethelukewarmnessofhispastconduct。`It’sthatwhat’smademetimid。
Youseemedtolovehim。Iwassurprised—andjealous，’headded。
`Lovehim！’MrsVerloccriedoutinawhisperfullofscornandrage。
`Lovehim！Iwasagoodwifetohim。Iamarespectablewoman。YouthoughtIlovedhim！Youdid！Lookhere，Tom——’
ThesoundofthisnamethrilledComradeOssiponwithpride。ForhisnamewasAlexander，andhewascalledTombyarrangementwiththemostfamiliarofhisintimates。Itwasanameoffriendship—ofmomentsofexpansion。Hehadnoideathatshehadeverhearditusedbyanybody。Itwasapparentthatshehadnotonlycaughtit，buthadtreasureditinhermemory—perhapsinherheart。
`Lookhere，Tom！Iwasayounggirl。Iwasdoneup。Iwastired。IhadtwopeopledependingonwhatIcoulddo，anditdidseemasifIcouldn’tdoanymore。Twopeople—motherandtheboy。Hewasmuchmoreminethanmother’s。Isatupnightsandnightswithhimonmylap，allaloneupstairs，whenIwasn’tmorethaneightyearsoldmyself。Andthen—Hewasmine，Itellyou……Youcan’tunderstandthat。Nomancanunderstandit。WhatwasItodo？Therewasayoungfellow——’
Thememoryoftheearlyromancewiththeyoungbutchersurvived，tenacious，liketheimageofaglimpsedidealinthatheartquailingbeforethefearofthegallowsandfullofrevoltagainstdeath。
`ThatwasthemanIlovedthen，’wentonthewidowofMrVerloc。`I
supposehecouldseeitinmyeyes，too。Fiveandtwentyshillingsaweek，andhisfatherthreatenedtokickhimoutofthebusinessifhemadesuchafoolofhimselfastomarryagirlwithacrippledmotherandacrazyidiotofaboyonherhands。Buthewouldhangaboutme，tilloneeveningIfoundthecouragetoslamthedoorinhisface。Ihadtodoit。Ilovedhimdearly。Fiveandtwentyshillingsaweek！Therewasthatotherman—agoodlodger。Whatisagirltodo？CouldI’vegoneonthestreets？
Heseemedkind。Hewantedme，anyhow。WhatwasItodowithmotherandthatpoorboy？Eh？Isaidyes。Heseemedgood—natured，hewasfreehanded，hehadmoney，heneversaidanything。Sevenyears—sevenyearsagoodwifetohim，thekind，thegood，thegenerous，the—Andhelovedme。Oh，yes。HelovedmetillIsometimeswishedmyself—Sevenyears’Sevenyearsawifetohim。Anddoyouknowwhathewas，thatdearfriendofyours？
Doyouknowwhathewas？……Hewasadevil！’
ThesuperhumanvehemenceofthatwhisperedstatementcompletelystunnedComradeOssipon。WinnieVerlocturningaboutheldhimbybotharms，facinghimunderthefallingmistinthedarknessandsolitudeofBrettPlace，inwhichallsoundsoflifeseemedlostasifinatriangularwellofasphaltandbricks，ofblindhousesandunfeelingstones。
`No;Ididn’tknow，’hedeclared，withasortofflabbystupidity，whosecomicalaspectwaslostuponawomanhauntedbythefearofthegallows。
`ButIdonow。I—Iunderstand，’heflounderedon，hismindspeculatingastowhatsortofatrocitiesVerloccouldhavepractisedunderthesleepy，placidappearancesofhismarriedestate。Itwaspositivelyawful。`Iunderstand，’
herepeated，andthenbyasuddeninspirationutteredan`Unhappywoman！’
ofloftycommiserationinsteadofthemorefamiliar`Poordarling！’ofhisusualpractice。Thiswasnousualcase。Hefeltconsciousofsomethingabnormalgoingon，whileheneverlostsightofthegreatnessofthestake。
`Unhappy，bravewoman！’
Hewasgladtohavediscoveredthatvariation;buthecoulddiscovernothingelse。`Ah，butheisdeadnow，’wasthebesthecoulddo。Andheputaremarkableamountofanimosityintohisguardedexclamation。MrsVerloccaughtathisarmwithasortoffrenzy。`Youguessedthenhewasdead，’shemurmured，asifbesideherself。`You！YouguessedwhatIhadtodo。Hadto！’
Thereweresuggestionsoftriumph，relief，gratitudeintheindefinabletoneofthesewords。ItengrossedthewholeattentionofOssipontothedetrimentofmereliteralsense。Hewonderedwhatwasupwithher，whyshehadworkedherselfintothisstateofwildexcitement。HeevenbegantowonderwhetherthehiddencausesofthatGreenwichParkaffairdidnotliedeepintheunhappycircumstancesoftheVerlocs’marriedlife。HewentsofarastosuspectMrVerlocofhavingselectedthatextraordinarymannerofcommittingsuicide。ByJove！thatwouldaccountfortheutterinanityandwrong—headednessofthething。Noanarchistmanifestationwasrequiredbythecircumstances。Quitethecontrary:andVerlocwasaswellawareofthatasanyotherrevolutionistofhisstanding。WhatanimmensejokeifVerlochadsimplymadefoolsofthewholeofEurope，oftherevolutionaryworld，ofthepolice，ofthepress，andofthecocksureProfessoraswell。
Indeed，thoughtOssiponinastonishment，itseemedalmostcertainthathedid！Poorbeggar！Itstruckhimasverypossiblethatofthathouseholdoftwoitwasn’tpreciselythemanwhowasthedevil。
AlexanderOssipon，nicknamedtheDoctor，wasnaturallyinclinedtothinkindulgentlyofhismenfriends。HeeyedMrsVerlochangingonhisarm。
Ofhiswomenfriendshethoughtinaspeciallypracticalway。WhyMrsVerlocshouldexclaimathisknowledgeofMrVerloc’sdeath，whichwasnoguessatall，didnotdisturbhimbeyondmeasure。Womenoftentalkedlikelunatics。