is she to do to keep up? If I were like Mrs Neale I expect I
wouldn’t act any different.”
In the afternoon of the same day, as Mr Verloc, coming with a start
out of the last of a long series of dozes before the parlour fire,
declared his intention of going out for a walk, Winnie said from
the shop:
“I wish you would take that boy out with you, Adolf.”
For the third time that day Mr Verloc was surprised. He stared
stupidly at his wife. She continued in her steady manner. The
boy, whenever he was not doing anything, moped in the house. It
made her uneasy; it made her nervous, she confessed. And that from
the calm Winnie sounded like exaggeration. But, in truth, Stevie
moped in the striking fashion of an unhappy domestic animal. He
would go up on the dark landing, to sit on the floor at the foot of
the tall clock, with his knees drawn up and his head in his hands.
To come upon his pallid face, with its big eyes gleaming in the
dusk, was discomposing; to think of him up there was uncomfortable.
Mr Verloc got used to the startling novelty of the idea. He was
fond of his wife as a man should be – that is, generously. But a
weighty objection presented itself to his mind, and he formulated
it.
“He’ll lose sight of me perhaps, and get lost in the street,” he
said.
Mrs Verloc shook her head competently.
“He won’t. You don’t know him. That boy just worships you. But
if you should miss him – ”
Mrs Verloc paused for a moment, but only for a moment.
“You just go on, and have your walk out. Don’t worry. He’ll be
all right. He’s sure to turn up safe here before very long.”
This optimism procured for Mr Verloc his fourth surprise of the
day.
“Is he?” he grunted doubtfully. But perhaps his brother-in-law was
not such an idiot as he looked. His wife would know best. He
turned away his heavy eyes, saying huskily: “Well, let him come
along, then,” and relapsed into the clutches of black care, that
perhaps prefers to sit behind a horseman, but knows also how to
tread close on the heels of people not sufficiently well off to
keep horses – like Mr Verloc, for instance.
Winnie, at the shop door, did not see this fatal attendant upon Mr
Verloc’s walks. She watched the two figures down the squalid
street, one tall and burly, the other slight and short, with a thin
neck, and the peaked shoulders raised slightly under the large
semi-transparent ears. The material of their overcoats was the
same, their hats were black and round in shape. Inspired by the
similarity of wearing apparel, Mrs Verloc gave rein to her fancy.
“Might be father and son,” she said to herself. She thought also
that Mr Verloc was as much of a father as poor Stevie ever had in
his life. She was aware also that it was her work. And with
peaceful pride she congratulated herself on a certain resolution
she had taken a few years before. It had cost her some effort, and
even a few tears.
She congratulated herself still more on observing in the course of
days that Mr Verloc seemed to be taking kindly to Stevie’s
companionship. Now, when ready to go out for his walk, Mr Verloc
called aloud to the boy, in the spirit, no doubt, in which a man
invites the attendance of the household dog, though, of course, in
a different manner. In the house Mr Verloc could be detected
staring curiously at Stevie a good deal. His own demeanour had
changed. Taciturn still, he was not so listless. Mrs Verloc
thought that he was rather jumpy at times. It might have been
regarded as an improvement. As to Stevie, he moped no longer at
the foot of the clock, but muttered to himself in corners instead
in a threatening tone. When asked “What is it you’re saying,
Stevie?” he merely opened his mouth, and squinted at his sister.
At odd times he clenched his fists without apparent cause, and when