The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad

go on with this case, my intention is to seek this explanation

personally – by myself, I mean where it may be picked up. That is

in a certain shop in Brett Street, and on the lips of a certain

secret agent once upon a time the confidential and trusted spy of

the late Baron Stott-Wartenheim, Ambassador of a Great Power to the

Court of St James.”

The Assistant Commissioner paused, then added: “Those fellows are a

perfect pest.” In order to raise his drooping glance to the

speaker’s face, the Personage on the hearthrug had gradually tilted

his head farther back, which gave him an aspect of extraordinary

haughtiness.

“Why not leave it to Heat?”

“Because he is an old departmental hand. They have their own

morality. My line of inquiry would appear to him an awful

perversion of duty. For him the plain duty is to fasten the guilt

upon as many prominent anarchists as he can on some slight

indications he had picked up in the course of his investigation on

the spot; whereas I, he would say, am bent upon vindicating their

innocence. I am trying to be as lucid as I can in presenting this

obscure matter to you without details.”

“He would, would he?” muttered the proud head of Sir Ethelred from

its lofty elevation.

“I am afraid so – with an indignation and disgust of which you or I

can have no idea. He’s an excellent servant. We must not put an

undue strain on his loyalty. That’s always a mistake. Besides, I

want a free hand – a freer hand than it would be perhaps advisable

to give Chief Inspector Heat. I haven’t the slightest wish to

spare this man Verloc. He will, I imagine, be extremely startled

to find his connection with this affair, whatever it may be,

brought home to him so quickly. Frightening him will not be very

difficult. But our true objective lies behind him somewhere. I

want your authority to give him such assurances of personal safety

as I may think proper.”

“Certainly,” said the Personage on the hearthrug. “Find out as

much as you can; find it out in your own way.”

“I must set about it without loss of time, this very evening,” said

the Assistant Commissioner.

Sir Ethelred shifted one hand under his coat tails, and tilting

back his head, looked at him steadily.

“We’ll have a late sitting to-night,” he said. “Come to the House

with your discoveries if we are not gone home. I’ll warn Toodles

to look out for you. He’ll take you into my room.”

The numerous family and the wide connections of the youthful-

looking Private Secretary cherished for him the hope of an austere

and exalted destiny. Meantime the social sphere he adorned in his

hours of idleness chose to pet him under the above nickname. And

Sir Ethelred, hearing it on the lips of his wife and girls every

day (mostly at breakfast-time), had conferred upon it the dignity

of unsmiling adoption.

The Assistant Commissioner was surprised and gratified extremely.

“I shall certainly bring my discoveries to the House on the chance

of you having the time to – ”

“I won’t have the time,” interrupted the great Personage. “But I

will see you. I haven’t the time now – And you are going

yourself?”

“Yes, Sir Ethelred. I think it the best way.”

The Personage had tilted his head so far back that, in order to

keep the Assistant Commissioner under his observation, he had to

nearly close his eyes.

“H’m. Ha! And how do you propose – Will you assume a disguise?”

“Hardly a disguise! I’ll change my clothes, of course.”

“Of course,” repeated the great man, with a sort of absent-minded

loftiness. He turned his big head slowly, and over his shoulder

gave a haughty oblique stare to the ponderous marble timepiece with

the sly, feeble tick. The gilt hands had taken the opportunity to

steal through no less than five and twenty minutes behind his back.

The Assistant Commissioner, who could not see them, grew a little

nervous in the interval. But the great man presented to him a calm

and undismayed face.

“Very well,” he said, and paused, as if in deliberate contempt of

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