stride. The wonderfulness of it never checked him for a moment.
There remained for me only to put to him the two questions: Who put
you up to it? and Who was the man who did it? He answered the
first with remarkable emphasis. As to the second question, I
gather that the fellow with the bomb was his brother-in-law – quite
a lad – a weak-minded creature. . . . It is rather a curious affair
– too long perhaps to state fully just now.”
“What then have you learned?” asked the great man.
“First, I’ve learned that the ex-convict Michaelis had nothing to
do with it, though indeed the lad had been living with him
temporarily in the country up to eight o’clock this morning. It is
more than likely that Michaelis knows nothing of it to this
moment.”
“You are positive as to that?” asked the great man.
“Quite certain, Sir Ethelred. This fellow Verloc went there this
morning, and took away the lad on the pretence of going out for a
walk in the lanes. As it was not the first time that he did this,
Michaelis could not have the slightest suspicion of anything
unusual. For the rest, Sir Ethelred, the indignation of this man
Verloc had left nothing in doubt – nothing whatever. He had been
driven out of his mind almost by an extraordinary performance,
which for you or me it would be difficult to take as seriously
meant, but which produced a great impression obviously on him.”
The Assistant Commissioner then imparted briefly to the great man,
who sat still, resting his eyes under the screen of his hand, Mr
Verloc’s appreciation of Mr Vladimir’s proceedings and character.
The Assistant Commissioner did not seem to refuse it a certain
amount of competency. But the great personage remarked:
“All this seems very fantastic.”
“Doesn’t it? One would think a ferocious joke. But our man took
it seriously, it appears. He felt himself threatened. In the
time, you know, he was in direct communication with old Stott-
Wartenheim himself, and had come to regard his services as
indispensable. It was an extremely rude awakening. I imagine that
he lost his head. He became angry and frightened. Upon my word,
my impression is that he thought these Embassy people quite capable
not only to throw him out but, to give him away too in some manner
or other – ”
“How long were you with him,” interrupted the Presence from behind
his big hand.
“Some forty minutes Sir Ethelred, in a house of bad repute called
Continental Hotel, closeted in a room which by-the-by I took for
the night. I found him under the influence of that reaction which
follows the effort of crime. The man cannot be defined as a
hardened criminal. It is obvious that he did not plan the death of
that wretched lad – his brother-in-law. That was a shock to him –
I could see that. Perhaps he is a man of strong sensibilities.
Perhaps he was even fond of the lad – who knows? He might have
hoped that the fellow would get clear away; in which case it would
have been almost impossible to bring this thing home to anyone. At
any rate he risked consciously nothing more but arrest for him.”
The Assistant Commissioner paused in his speculations to reflect
for a moment.
“Though how, in that last case, he could hope to have his own share
in the business concealed is more than I can tell,” he continued,
in his ignorance of poor Stevie’s devotion to Mr Verloc (who was
GOOD), and of his truly peculiar dumbness, which in the old affair
of fireworks on the stairs had for many years resisted entreaties,
coaxing, anger, and other means of investigation used by his
beloved sister. For Stevie was loyal. . . . “No, I can’t imagine.
It’s possible that he never thought of that at all. It sounds an
extravagant way of putting it, Sir Ethelred, but his state of
dismay suggested to me an impulsive man who, after committing
suicide with the notion that it would end all his troubles, had
discovered that it did nothing of the kind.”