THE SECRET AGENT

Chapter 1: Mr Verloc

Mr Verloc went out one morning, leaving his shop in the care of his brother-in-law. His brother-in-law was left in the care of Mr Verloc's wife, Winnie.
It was a small shop in Soho, an area of London. The family, Mr and Mrs Verloc, Mrs Verloc's brother Stevie and Mrs Verloc's mother all lived in the house above the shop.
The shop was never very busy. Its business was not very respectable. In the windows were pictures of naked dancing girls, small packets, a few books and some newspapers.
The customers of the shop were always men. The younger ones were embarrassed about being in the shop, especially if Mrs Verloc was serving them. They often left without buying what they came in for because they were too shy to ask a woman.
The door of the shop was the only entrance to the house where the Verloc's lived. Behind the counter was a door to the back room, where there was a staircase. The shop was Mr Verloc's cover for his other work; he thought of himself as a protector of society. In reality, Mr Verloc was a lazy man and he did little for this other job. He enjoyed his home life here; it was peaceful and he liked being looked after by Winnie.
Mr Verloc was a fat man with sleepy eyes. Winnie Verloc was a young woman with neat, shiny dark hair and a tranquil, reserved face.
Winnie's mother was also rather large. Her legs were very swollen, so she did not move about much. When her husband had died, she had rented out apartments to gentlemen and Winnie had helped to look after them. Mr Verloc was one of these gentlemen. He had stayed there for some time, and eventually he and Winnie got married.
After they were married, Winnie's mother's business was sold because, said Mr Verloc, it was inconvenient for his other work. He never told them what this other work was, except to say that it was of a political nature. Mr Verloc took them all to live above his shop in Soho. Winnie's mother was happy with this arrangement. She no longer worried about her daughter's future, and she even felt happy about the future of her son, Stevie.
'Poor Stevie!' she often thought to herself. She was happy that Winnie and Mr Verloc did not have any children of their own because that left more time to care for Stevie.
Stevie was a good-looking boy, but he was delicate and not very clever. He learnt to read and write, but as he grew up it became clear that he was not able to work.
His first job as a messenger was not a success; he kept forgetting the messages. Often he became distracted by a cat or a dog and followed them down small streets until he was completely lost and could not remember his own address. His second job was as an office boy when he was fourteen years old. One afternoon, Stevie was discovered starting fireworks on the staircase. Luckily, no damage was done, but Stevie lost his job.
When Winnie announced that she and Verloc were going to get married, her mother worried about Stevie. But Mr Verloc brought them all to live with him; Winnie, her mother and her brother.
So, this was the house, the family and the business that Mr Verloc left behind at half past ten one morning. He walked slowly through the streets of London. He was going to the embassy of a foreign country - his other employer.
Mr Verloc had a letter from the embassy in his pocket, asking him to be there that morning. When he arrived, Verloc showed the letter to the man on the door, and he was led into a small room. An important-looking gentleman was sitting at a desk with some papers in front of him.
'I have some of your reports here,' the man said to Verloc.
Verloc recognised his own handwriting.
'I've read your reports for the last twelve months,' the man continued, 'and I don't understand why you wrote them at all. You write about a situation that we already know about. There's nothing new here. We all know that the police aren't severe enough. We need something to happen, a definite event, which will force them to be more vigilant.' He stopped and stared at Verloc. 'You're very fat,' said the man.
Mr Verloc was shocked.
'I think you should see Mr Vladimir,' the man said. 'Wait here.'
Mr Verloc was worried. He began to sweat. He was led down a corridor to a large room. A young man sat in a comfortable chair behind the desk; he was Mr Vladimir, the First Secretary of the embassy.
Mr Vladimir was known as a pleasant man. He was very popular in high society. However, at this moment he did not look very pleasant to Mr Verloc.
'How long have you been employed by the embassy here?' he asked Verloc.
'Eleven years,' answered Verloc. 'Since Baron Stott-Wartenheim was here.'
'So what do you have to say for yourself?' said the First Secretary.
Verloc replied that he did not have anything special to say, but the embassy had sent him a letter, ordering him to come. He started searching for it in his pocket but Mr Vladimir interrupted him.
'What's the matter with you? You're too fat to be a secret agent! You, an anarchist? Rubbish! I'll tell you what I think; you're lazy and fat and do very little for your pay from this embassy. How long have we been paying you?'
'Eleven years,' said Mr Verloc again.
'Well, what we want is something in return for the money you've received over eleven years. What we want now is action.'
Mr Verloc now felt very uncomfortable.
'You think of yourself as an 'agent provocateur'. The business of an 'agent provocateur' is to provoke. You have provoked nothing for the last three years,' said Mr Vladimir.
'What we want,' he said, 'is an attack. An attack on a building. I'm not saying people need to die. We just want something to shock the public, to wake up the police and force the British Government into action. They're becoming too soft these days. They need to be harder, stricter, more frightening. Only then will the ordinary people want a political change. Perhaps even a revolution...'
Mr Verloc said nothing. He did not know what to say. He waited.
'A bomb attack on the Greenwich Observatory is perfect for these times. People today respect and admire science. And everyone has heard of the Greenwich Observatory, I'll give you a month. If nothing happens within a month, your connection with us is over.'
Mr Verloc nodded and left the room.
He left the embassy building, walking slowly back along the way he came earlier. He felt angry and worried.
Verloc arrived home and walked through to the back room. He sat down. Mrs Verloc was cooking and watching over Stevie.
An hour and a half later, Verloc still had not moved or spoken. Winnie sent Stevie to wash his hands and set the table for dinner. She put the dinner out on plates and then called her mother and Mr Verloc.
'Mother, Adolf!'
They sat around the dinner table. The two women were silent because of Mr Verloc's mood. Stevie also sat very quietly, staring vacantly.

Chapter 2: Mr Verloc's Friends

Later on that evening, some of Mr Verloc's friends came to the shop. They considered themselves to be anarchists and liked to sit around discussing the state of society.
Michaelis was a large, pale man who was supposed to be in prison. He was allowed out for good behaviour but he still had to report to the police now and again. He became very fat while he was in prison and even after he came out, he did not lose any weight. A very wealthy old lady who was interested in all types of people in society looked after him. Michaelis stayed at her cottage in the country just outside London.
In front of the fireplace sat Ossipon, a man who had a reputation for seducing rich young women. Opposite him was Karl Yundt - a fierce old man with no teeth and no hair. He was a man of angry words but was not known for being a man of action.
It was hot in the room so Verloc opened the door to let some air in. They could now see into the kitchen, where Stevie was sitting quietly at the table, drawing circles on a piece of paper. The men talked for a while, often only listening to themselves and no one else. They discussed injustice in society, revolutions, reform, the past and the future. Yundt became angrier and more passionate, causing Stevie to stop what he was doing and listen in horror.
One by one, the anarchists left. Mr Verloc envied them. It was easy for them; talking, doing nothing, being looked after by various women. They did not know Mr Vladimir. Verloc now had to do something, and he had a woman to look after.
Verloc thought about going to bed. He looked around at his shop, noticing the few silver coins in the till. It was an easy business to run, but it did not make much money. He needed his other job at the embassy. Verloc was about to go to bed when he realised that Stevie was still downstairs, agitatedly walking around the kitchen table. Mr Verloc did not know what to say to him.
He went upstairs and woke up Winnie.
'Winnie! Winnie!'
She woke up, confused. 'Your brother is still downstairs, I don't know what to do with him,' said Verloc.
Winnie got out of bed and went downstairs. A few minutes later, she came back up and got into bed. 'That poor boy was very excited tonight,' she said. 'He hears too much of what these anarchists say. It upsets him.'
Verloc turned, knowing that he would not sleep that night. He could not stop thinking about Mr Vladimir and what he wanted him, Verloc, to do. Stevie was the least of his problems.
'Shall I put out the light now dear?' asked Mrs Verloc.
'Yes,' said Verloc after a long pause, 'put it out.'

A MONTH LATER
Ossipon walked into a restaurant and went to the room downstairs. He looked around and then went to sit with a small man with glasses. This man called himself the Professor. He too was an anarchist. The Professor knew a lot about explosives.
'Have you heard the news?' Ossipon asked the Professor.
'No,' replied the Professor. 'I stayed in bed all morning.'
'They've been shouting the news in the streets. I bought the paper and came in here. Then I saw you.' Ossipon pulled the newspaper out of his pocket.
'Here it is. A bomb in Greenwich Park. At half past eleven. The effects of the explosion were felt as far as Romney Road. It left an enormous hole in the ground under a tree and all around were pieces of a man's body. An attempt to blow up the Observatory, they say. Hmm, I'm not sure I believe that.'
The Professor said nothing.
'I had no any idea something like this was being planned,' he continued. 'Have you been giving your explosives away to any idiot who asks for them recently?' said Ossipon.
Still the Professor said nothing.
'You have!' said Ossipon, 'So what if I have? All you do is talk, make plans and do nothing. It's very easy for people like you and Michaelis. If someone asks me for the stuff, I give it to them.'
'Can you describe the person you gave the stuff to?' asked Ossipon.
'Describe him,' he repeated slowly.
'Well, I don't see why not now he's obviously dead. I can describe him to you in one word - Verloc.'
Ossipon sat back in his chair, shocked.
'Verloc! Impossible.'
The Professor nodded.
'Yes, he's the person. You can't say that I was giving my stuff away to any idiot who asked for it. Verloc is a well-known anarchist.'
'Well, yes,' agreed Ossipon. 'He was married as well, you know. I think it was with her money that he started the shop. I wonder what that woman will do now?' he paused and thought for a while. 'Did Verloc say anything to you? Give you some idea of his intentions?' he asked.
'He told me he was going to blow up a building,' said the Professor. He described the explosives he prepared for Verloc.
'What do you think happened?' Ossipon interrupted.
'I don't know. The timer was set for twenty minutes. He had time to place the bomb, set it and then get away. However, if it was dropped it would explode immediately,' said the Professor, getting up and putting on his coat.
'I don't know what Verloc was thinking. There's some mystery there. But he's dead. The best thing to do is to say we didn't know him. No doubt, the police know that we had nothing to do with this. But what they will actually say is another thing,' said Ossipon. 'I must speak to Michaelis and tell him what's happened.'
Ossipon did not know what to do. He did not want to go to Verloc's shop; perhaps it was a police trap. Then he thought, if the man in the park was in so many pieces, the police might not be able to identify him. If so, there was no reason for Verloc's shop to be watched. Still...
'I wonder what I should do now?' he asked himself.
'See how much the woman's worth,' said the Professor, He got up and left the room. Ossipon remained still for a moment before he too got up and left.

Chapter 3: Inspector Heat

Inspector Heat's department received a telegram from Greenwich at eleven that morning, telling them about the attack. Inspector Heat was annoyed. Only a week before he had told a government official that there was no chance of anarchist activity.
'We can arrest any one of these anarchists, sir, at any time of the day or night. We know exactly where they are and what they're doing.' The government official was pleased. He believed Inspector Heat because it was what he wanted to believe. Now Inspector Heat felt this explosion had embarrassed him.
This was not the only reason for Inspector Heat's bad mood. He was also hungry, but he did not want to eat after what he had seen at the hospital. He did not often see the mutilated remains of human beings. When the sheet was lifted from the table, Heat was shocked. Underneath was a pile of rags with some unidentifiable pieces of human flesh.
The local policeman who was first at the scene after the explosion said, 'He's all there. Every bit of him. It was a difficult job.'
Inspector Heat tried hard not to vomit. The man, whoever he was, obviously died instantly. But it seemed impossible to believe that a human body could become this pile of fragments without feeling incredible pain. The policeman continued talking.
'I spoke to an old woman. She said she saw two men coming out of the train station. One of them was large, but the other one was thin and blond. The large one was carrying a metal can in one hand.
'Well, there he is,' continued the policeman. 'All of him that I could see. Look at that foot there. I picked up the legs first. There were pieces of him everywhere; I didn't know where to begin.
'He stumbled,' the policeman said. 'The roots on those trees come up above the ground. He stumbled over one of them, fell down and that thing he was carrying exploded right under his chest.'
Inspector Heat picked up one of the rags. It was the collar of a coat. Inside the collar was another piece of material with an address on it. He turned to the window for a better light and looked closer. The inspector could now dearly see what was written. He was greatly surprised. He quickly tore off the piece and put it in his pocket. He turned around and put the collar back on the table. 'Cover it up,' he said and he left the room.
Inspector Heat took a train back into central London. When he got off the train, he was still thinking intensely and still feeling sick. Inspector Heat did not think much of anarchists. He did not really think anarchy was a serious problem. To him it seemed foolish, but it was this foolishness, which excited the public.
Anarchy and attacks like this affected people in high places. Heat's immediate problem was what to say to the Assistant Commissioner, his superior officer.
Heat arrived at the headquarters and went straight to the Assistant Commissioner's private room.
'It seems you were right when you said that none of the London anarchists were involved in this,' said the Assistant Commissioner. 'But, to the public, that just means you don't know who is responsible. Unless,' he added, 'you have brought something useful from Greenwich.'
Inspector Heat told him about his investigation so far. He thought that the two men had probably left each other close to the Observatory walls. He thought that the large man had left the park quickly without being seen, and had left the thin man at the scene to do the job on his own.
Heat explained that the ticket collectors at the train station had been questioned. They also remembered the two men: the big man had got out carrying the bright metal can in his hand and had then given it to the younger man to carry. The ticket collector had collected the tickets from the two men. The tickets showed that they came from a small station in the country. All this agreed with what the old woman had told the policeman in Greenwich.
Here, the Assistant Commissioner interrupted.
'All this depends on what the old woman said, is she reliable? And you say that these men came from a little station in the country. It seems strange that two foreign anarchists came from there,' he said.
'Yes, sir,' said Chief Inspector Heat, 'but it's not so strange if you consider that the anarchist Michaelis is staying in a cottage in that area.'
At the mention of the name Michaelis, the Assistant Commissioner became much more interested.

Chapter 4: The Assistant Commissioner

The Assistant Commissioner was married. His wife's name was Annie and she was well connected. She knew the rich old lady who took an interest in Michaelis. The old lady was interested in all sorts of people: royalty, artists, criminals, scientists, and musicians. People of all types and ages were welcome in her house. She listened to them, understood and learnt from them. In her own words, she liked to watch what was happening in the world.
Her house was probably the only place where an Assistant Commissioner of the police might mix socially with a known anarchist. The old lady liked Michaelis very much and did not think he was a danger to society, but instead someone to feel sorry for.
The Assistant Commissioner knew that the old lady would be very upset if Michaelis was involved in this bombing at Greenwich. The old lady was very useful to the Assistant Commissioner because she made his married life much easier. She had a powerful influence over Annie and her moods.
'If Michaelis goes back to prison, the old lady will never forgive me,' thought the Assistant Commissioner. Then, more precisely, he thought, 'If Inspector Heat makes the decision, Michaelis will go back to prison, and she'll never forgive me.'
Inspector Heat and the Assistant Commissioner did not speak for some time. Eventually the Assistant Commissioner said, 'Do you think Michaelis is involved in this bombing?'
'Well, sir,' replied Heat, 'we have enough information to make an arrest. A man like Michaelis has no right to be free anyway.'
'You'll need some proper evidence though,' said the Assistant Commissioner.
'Oh, there will be no problem finding evidence against someone like him,' said Inspector Heat.
To Inspector Heat it seemed a perfect opportunity to put Michaelis back in prison. He thought it was only right and legal, and it also gave the public someone to blame for the bombing in Greenwich Park. It would also be good for Inspector Heat's reputation.
'Now, why don't you like this man Michaelis?' asked the Assistant Commissioner. 'What evidence do you have against him? Apart from the fact that the two suspects came from a railway station a few miles away from where Michaelis is living at the moment?'
'With this sort of man,' said the Inspector, 'that's enough to convince me.'
'Really?' asked the Assistant Commissioner, twisting the ends of his moustache.
The Inspector felt uncomfortable.
'Of course,' Heat replied slowly, 'I haven't sent my men out into the country to arrest him yet. Is there some reason for not arresting Michaelis? Perhaps something that I don't know about?'
'There's no reason at all as far as I know,' replied the Assistant Commissioner. 'Now let's see what you discovered at the scene of the explosion, Heat.'
Inspector Heat realised he was not going to have the satisfaction of arresting Michaelis for something he had not done. He decided to tell the truth.
'I took an address from the remains of the body,' he said, pulling the burnt rag from his pocket. 'This was attached to the coat of the man who was blown to pieces. Of course, it's possible that the coat didn't belong to him or that it was stolen. But I don't think that is the case.'
He put it on the table. 'I took it from the hospital without anyone seeing me.'
The Assistant Commissioner looked at it in silence. Only the number 32 and the name of Brett Street were written on the piece of cloth. He was surprised.
'How extraordinary! Why would somebody go about labelled like this?' he asked. 'What is at Number 32 Brett Street anyway?'
'It's a shop, sir.'
The Assistant Commissioner sensed that Inspector Heat had something else to say, so he waited for more information. Inspector Heat then told him about Mr Verloc's business, his appearance, his work at the embassy and his connection to the inspector himself.
'And how long have you been in contact with this embassy spy?' asked the Assistant Commissioner.
'For about seven years. I met him one day when Baron Stott-Wartenheim was the Ambassador. I described him to my friend in the French police, and he told me that the man was a secret agent for one of the foreign Embassies in London. I went to his shop one night and told him who I was. Verloc told me he was married and settled now, and just wanted to run his business. I promised him that if he didn't do anything really terrible, the police would leave him alone.'
'And what do you get in return?' asked the Assistant Commissioner.
'Well, he can usually help me by giving me information,' said Heat.
The Assistant Commissioner smiled to himself, thinking that Inspector Heat's good reputation was probably mainly thanks to the secret agent Verloc.
'Well, he didn't help you much this time,' observed the Assistant Commissioner. 'Does he live above his shop?'
'Verloc? Yes, he does.'
'Is the shop being watched?'
'Oh no. I don't believe he knows anything about this attack,' said Heat.
'So how do you explain this?' asked the Assistant Commissioner, pointing at the piece of cloth with Verloc's address on it.
'I can't explain it, sir,' replied Heat.
The Assistant Commissioner stood up suddenly and decided what he was going to do. He sent Inspector Heat away and told him to return the next morning. Not long after, he left the building.
The Assistant Commissioner went to see a man called Sir Ethelred. He was a very important man. He was the Secretary of State.
'I want you to tell me one thing: can we expect more explosions like this?' Sir Ethelred asked.
'No,' said the Assistant Commissioner, 'not as far as I know.'
'Hmm,' said Sir Ethelred, 'Only a month ago Inspector Heat told me that nothing like this was even possible.'
'In the last hour or so, I've learnt something about this anarchist attack which is unusual. I need to talk to you about it because I believe it involves someone at a foreign embassy,' said the Assistant Commissioner.
'I want to investigate this myself,' he continued. 'If it's left to Inspector Heat, he'll just try to blame some well-known anarchists. The person who carried out this attack destroyed himself by accident. Also by accident, an address on his clothing was discovered. The address is for a shop in Brett Street, where a certain secret agent lives. I think he'll be able to explain the real reasons for this attack and who is behind it.'
Sir Ethelred agreed.
'I must start straight away, tonight,' said the Assistant Commissioner.
Sir Ethelred looked at him. 'I'll be here until late this evening. Come back then with your discoveries.'
The Assistant Commissioner left the building and returned to his office. 'Has Heat gone yet?' he asked.
'Yes, sir. He went away about half an hour ago.'
'Perfect.'
The Assistant Commissioner sent a note to his wife to say that he was not going to be at dinner. He left his office and went towards Brett Street.

Chapter 5: Mrs Verloc's Mother moves house

Two weeks earlier
Mrs Verloc's mother was worried. Mr Verloc had been behaving strangely lately. She thought it was because he had too many people to care for: Winnie, Stevie and herself. She decided to make arrangements to leave, so that Mr Verloc could have more time and money to look after her two children.
One of her old friends was rich and had started a charity to help women like Winnie's mother. She made enquiries and was able to move into a house provided by this charity. She did all this without telling Winnie.
Winnie noticed that her mother was spending more money lately on carriage journeys. But she thought it was because her mother's swollen legs caused her difficulty in walking. Finally, Mrs Verloc's mother told her daughter that she was moving out. When Winnie heard this, she was so shocked that she stopped what she was doing. She was cleaning the furniture in the room behind the shop at the time. She looked at her mother.
'Why did you do that?' she asked. 'Aren't you comfortable here?'
Winnie picked up her cloth and began cleaning again. Her mother sat in the chair. She did not know what to say to her daughter.
After more cleaning, Winnie eventually asked, 'But how did you manage it, Mother?'
This was easier to answer. The old woman gave her daughter a long and detailed account of how she asked 'poor daddy's friends' and the help they gave her.
Winnie continued cleaning until her mother finished the story and then she left the room without saying a word.
The time came for Winnie's mother to move out. The carriage arrived to take her to her new home. The horse pulling the carriage looked ill and weak. The carriage itself had old, unstable wheels and the driver was disabled. He had a large metal hook instead of a hand. Mrs Verloc's mother was nervous.
'What do you think, Winnie?' she asked.
A passing policeman spoke to the two women.
'He's been driving for twenty years. He's never had an accident.' The policeman's words decided the matter. Winnie followed her mother into the carriage. Stevie climbed up and sat by the driver. The carriage moved off slowly. It seemed to take a very long time. 'This isn't a very good horse,' said Winnie.
Stevie tried to speak. 'Don't,' he said.
The driver took no notice.
Stevie tried again. 'Don't whip,' he said.
The man turned to look at Stevie. He said nothing.
'You mustn't,' said Stevie. 'It hurts.'
'I mustn't whip the horse?' said the driver, and he immediately whipped the horse again. Suddenly Stevie jumped down from the carriage. The people on the streets started shouting and some ran towards him. The driver stopped the carriage. Winnie lowered the window and put her head out. She was very white. Inside, her mother was saying, 'Is Stevie hurt? Is he hurt?'
Stevie was not hurt but he could not speak for a moment. Finally, he managed, 'Too heavy. Too heavy.'
Winnie told him to get back on the carriage immediately.
'No. No. Walk. I must walk.'
'Oh, don't let him, Winnie. He'll get lost. Don't let him!' said Winnie's mother.
'Certainly not! Mr Verloc won't be happy when he hears about this, Stevie, I can tell you. He won't be happy at all.'
Stevie did not like to make Mr Verloc unhappy. He climbed back up onto the carriage with a look of desperation on his face.
The driver turned to him. 'Don't do that again, young man,' he said.
They continued on their journey.
'Well, Mother, you've done what you wanted. I hope you're happy. What will people think of us? Did you have to ask for charity like this? Didn't we look after you well enough?' said Mrs Verloc.
'My dear,' said the old woman, 'you've been the best daughter to me. And Mr Verloc - well...' Mrs Verloc's mother was embarrassed. She had decided to move in order to help her children. Without her to look after, perhaps Mr Verloc would be kind to Stevie for much longer.
'You'll come to see me when you have the time, won't you?' she asked Mrs Verloc.
'Of course,' said Winnie quickly.
'And I must see poor Stevie every Sunday. He might like spending the day with his old mother.'
'Might!' exclaimed Winnie. 'Of course he will. He'll miss you terribly. I expect he'll be difficult to manage at the beginning. Why didn't you think of that, Mother?'
'Whatever you do, don't let him worry your husband, my dear.'
They discussed their new situation. Was Stevie to be trusted to come all that way on his own every Sunday? What if he got lost? It was too far!
'I can't bring him to you myself every week,' said Winnie, 'but I'll make sure that he doesn't get lost for too long. Perhaps I can put a label in his coat or something.'
The carriage stopped at the new house and everyone got out. Stevie carried in some of the smaller packages and then came back outside. The driver was standing next to his horse, Winnie paid him and went inside. Stevie stood there for a while, looking at the horse. It was very thin and bony.
'He's not lame,' said the driver to Stevie, 'l work at night. Until three or four o'clock in the morning. There are mainly drunks at that time. I have to take all the work I can. I've got a wife and four children at home to look after.'
Stevie looked unhappy.
'This isn't an easy world,' said the driver.
'Bad! Bad!' cried Stevie.
'It's hard on the horses,' said the driver, 'but it's even harder on poor men like me.'
'Poor! Poor!' said Stevie. All he wanted was to make the horse and the driver happy.
When Stevie was little, Winnie often used to find him hiding in a dark corner if their father was angry with him. She used to come along and take Stevie off to bed with her. It made Stevie happy to be taken to bed: he felt safe from the cruel world outside. But he knew that he could not take the driver and his horse to bed with him. They were too big. He could not help them.
Stevie knew that he was powerless. But knowing this made him angry. Winnie took Stevie's arm. She felt how tense and upset he was.
'Now Stevie, you must be a good brother and look after me when we cross the road,' said Winnie.
Stevie was pleased. At least he could help Winnie.
'Don't be nervous, Winnie. You mustn't be nervous.' They started the walk home. On the way, they saw the carriage and the old thin horse again.
'Poor! Poor!' said Stevie. 'The driver's poor too. He told me himself.'
Stevie wanted to tell Winnie how he felt but it was very difficult for him. All he could say was, 'Sad'.
'Come along, Stevie, You can't help them,' said Winnie.
'Bad world for poor people,' said Stevie.
It was clear to Winnie that he was very upset.
'Nobody can change that,' she said. 'Do come along.'
Stevie was upset to hear this from Winnie, who was good. Nobody could help them? He thought about it.
'Police?' he suggested.
'The police aren't for that,' said Mrs Verloc, hurrying along.
'Not for that?' Stevie was surprised. 'What are they for then, Winn? What are they for? Tell me.'
'Don't you know what the police are for, Stevie? They're here so that people who have nothing don't take anything away from people who do have things.'
'Not even if they're hungry? Mustn't they?' said Stevie.
'Not even if they're really hungry,' said Mrs Verloc. 'Certainly not. But let's not talk about all that. You aren't ever hungry.' Mrs Verloc did not like to look into things too deeply. This was one of the reasons her marriage worked.
An hour later, they arrived home. Mr Verloc was sitting behind the counter, reading a newspaper. He watched his wife enter, followed by Stevie. They crossed the shop and went upstairs.
Mr Verloc still seemed very quiet and strange. Mrs Verloc called him for dinner. It was very silent at the table. There was an empty chair where Mrs Verloc's mother normally sat.
Stevie sat quietly. On the way home, Winnie told Stevie that Mr Verloc was sad and Stevie was not to worry him. Winnie made sure that Stevie understood this. Stevie thought that Mr Verloc was a good man. Mr Verloc was the only man that Stevie knew who was good. The only other man Stevie had known was his father, who had always been angry with him and had hit him. Mr Verloc had no idea that Stevie thought of him in this way.
'Are you going out tonight?' Mrs Verloc asked her husband.
He shook his head. A minute later, he got up and went out.
He did not mean to be unpleasant to his wife. The truth was that he did not know what to do. He could not stop thinking about Mr Vladimir and what he wanted him to do.
When he returned to the house, Winnie was already in bed. Mr Verloc climbed in beside her. He looked at his wife's back. At that moment, Mr Verloc was very close to telling his wife everything, but then the moment passed, instead he said, 'I'm going away tomorrow.'
His wife said nothing,
'I'll be away for a week or maybe two,' he added.
'Shall I put the light out?' said Mrs Verloc, after a while.
'Yes,' said Mr Verloc.

Chapter 6: Like Father and Son

Ten days later
Mr Verloc returned after ten days but he did not look any happier. Stevie was cleaning in the shop. Mr Verloc put his bag on the floor and said, 'Here!'
Stevie immediately picked up the bag and took it away. Mr Verloc was surprised. From behind the counter, Winnie asked if he wanted some breakfast. Mr Verloc sat at the table and took his hat off. Stevie quickly picked it up and carefully took it away. Again, Mr Verloc was surprised.
'You could do anything with that boy, Adolf,' said Mrs Verloc. 'He thinks such a lot of you.'
Later on that day, Mr Verloc was sleeping in front of the fire. He woke up and decided to go for a walk. He told Winnie.
'Why don't you take Stevie with you?' said Mrs Verloc.
For the third time that day, Mr Verloc was surprised.
'But he might get lost,' said Mr Verloc.
Mrs Verloc shook her head.
'He won't,' she said. 'You don't know him. That boy adores you.'
Mr Verloc looked at Stevie. Perhaps he was not as stupid as he had thought.
'Well, he can come along then,' he said finally.
Winnie watched them from the shop door as they walked off down the street. She watched the two figures, one large and fat and the other thin and blond. They were wearing the same coats and hats. 'Like father and son,' thought Winnie.
Over the next few days, Winnie was pleased to see that Mr Verloc seemed to like Stevie's company. Every day, when Mr Verloc went for his walk, he called Stevie to come with him. Mr Verloc also seemed happier lately.
One day, Mr Verloc said he thought it would be good for Stevie to go out into the country for a while.
'But where can he go?' asked Winnie.
Mr Verloc told his wife that Michaelis was staying out in the country. 'He has a room that Stevie can sleep in,' he said.
Winnie liked Michaelis. He was always kind to Stevie.
'I'll take him myself tomorrow and leave him safe with Michaelis,' said Mr Verloc.
He took him the next day. Stevie seemed enthusiastic but a little confused.
'Try not to get your clothes dirty in the country,' said Winnie.
So now Winnie's mother was gone, Stevie was with Michaelis, and Mr Verloc was often out for his walks. Mrs Verloc was often on her own in the shop and the house. She was alone longer than usual on the day of the Greenwich bomb attack; Mr Verloc went out very early that morning and did not come back until the evening. She quite liked being alone. She did not want to go out. The weather was bad and it was warm in the shop and the house.
Mrs Verloc was sewing when Mr Verloc returned that evening.
She did not look up but said, 'The weather's terrible. Have you been to see Stevie?'
'No, I haven't,' said Mr Verloc softly. He went into the back room.
After a while, Mrs Verloc went into the back room to start making dinner. As she passed through the room on her way to the kitchen, she heard a strange sound. She stopped and lit the lamps to see what it was. Mr Verloc was sitting in front of the fireplace. He was holding his head in his hands and his teeth were chattering. The noise made Winnie stop.
'You're wet,' she said, 'I'll have to take care of you.'
'No, you won't,' said Mr Verloc.
'Where have you been today?' she asked.
'Nowhere,' said Mr Verloc. This was obviously not true. 'I've been to the bank,' he said.
'Have you?' said Mrs Verloc. 'What for?'
'I took the money out.'
'What do you mean? All of it?'
'Yes, all of it.'
Mrs Verloc prepared the table for dinner.
'What did you do that for?'
'We may need it soon,' said Mr Verloc.
'What do you mean?' said Mrs Verloc.
'You know you can trust me,' said Mr Verloc.
'Oh yes, I can trust you,' she replied slowly.
She continued preparing dinner. In the kitchen she thought, 'He'll be hungry after being out all day.' She took out some cold beef. She came back into the room with the carving knife. They both sat down at the table. Mr Verloc did not look well. He drank three cups of tea but did not eat anything.
'You must eat,' said Mrs Verloc. 'Put your slippers on. You aren't going out again this evening.'
Mr Verloc ignored this advice. He was not thinking of going out that evening. Instead, he was thinking that moving to France or California was a good idea. He told his wife.
This was unexpected and improbable to Mrs Verloc.
'Don't be silly!' she said.
Mr Verloc mumbled something about having to move.
'Do we have to?' repeated Winnie, 'I don't see why. The business isn't so bad. We have a comfortable home.' She looked around her. She missed Stevie; this was his home as well. To go abroad suddenly was not a good idea for Stevie.
'Well, if you go abroad, you'll have to go without me,' she said.
At that moment, the bell at the shop door rang. A customer came in.
'You go, Adolf, I'll finish clearing up here.' Mr Verloc went.
Winnie washed the dishes and cups. Then she stopped to listen but she heard nothing. The customer was in the shop for a long time.
Mr Verloc came in. He was very white.
'What's the matter?' asked Winnie.
'I do have to go out tonight,' said Mr Verloc.
Winnie walked through into the shop and looked at the man standing in the middle of the room. He was tall and thin with a moustache. She did not know him. He was not a customer.
Mrs Verloc looked at him. The stranger smiled but said nothing.
'Has your husband gone out to wait for me on the street perhaps? he said after a while.
'Oh no,' said Mrs Verloc. 'He can't. There's no other door to the street except the shop door.'
She went into the back room. Mr Verloc was sitting down with his coat on.
'Do you know that man?' she asked.
'I've heard of him,' Mr Verloc whispered.
'Well, he's waiting for you,' said Mrs Verloc. 'Adolf, he's not one of those embassy people, is he?'
'Embassy people?' repeated Verloc, surprised. 'Who's been talking to you about embassy people?' He was worried.
'You have, Adolf.'
'Me? I talked of the embassy to you?' Mr Verloc seemed scared.
'You've been talking in your sleep lately, Adolf.'
'What did I say? What do you know?'
'Nothing much. It was mostly nonsense. Anyway, come back home as soon as possible. You're not very well.'
He was just about to leave when Winnie remembered something.
'Adolf!' He came back. 'What about that money you took out? You've got it in your pocket. I think it's better if...'
Mr Verloc took a wallet out of his pocket and gave it to Mrs Verloc. He and his visitor then left the shop. The visitor was the Assistant Commissioner.

Chapter 7: Mrs Verloc meets Inspector Heat

Winnie looked at the banknotes in the wallet. She looked around her house for somewhere safe to put it. Nowhere seemed safe enough. For the first time she felt lonely and a little frightened in her own house. She decided to put the money in the front of her dress. Then she heard the shop doorbell ring. Winnie was glad there was a customer. She walked into the shop.
A man was standing in the middle of the shop, looking around. Mrs Verloc recognised him. He was not a customer either.
'Is your husband at home, Mrs Verloc?' he asked.
'No, he's gone out.'
'I'm sorry about that. I came to ask him for some information.' This was the truth. Inspector Heat was no longer in charge of the case, but that did not stop him making some private enquiries.
'Will your husband be long?'
'I don't know. He went out with a stranger who came to the shop,' replied Mrs Verloc.
'What did he look like, this stranger?' asked Inspector Heat.
Mrs Verloc described him and Inspector Heat knew it was the Assistant Commissioner.
'Well, I don't have time to wait for your husband. But I think,' said the Inspector, 'that you can probably tell me what's going on. You know I'm in the police, don't you?'
'Going on? What is going on?'
'The reason came to talk to your husband.'
Mrs Verloc did not read the newspapers. She did not know about the Greenwich bomb attack.
'Your husband didn't say anything when he came home?' said Inspector Heat.
Mrs Verloc shook her head.
'There was another small thing I wanted to talk about with your husband. We have what we believe is a stolen coat.'
'We haven't lost a coat,' said Mrs Verloc calmly.
'Well, that's strange, because inside the coat is a label with your address written on it,' said the Inspector.
'That's my brother's, then,' said Mrs Verloc.
'Where is your brother? Can I see him?'
'He's been away, staying with - a friend - in the country.'
'The coat came from the country. What's the name of this friend?'
'Michaelis,' whispered Mrs Verloc.
'I see. And what does your brother look like - is he a large, dark man?'
'Oh, no,' said Mrs Verloc. 'That must be the thief. No, Stevie is small and blond.'
The Chief Inspector asked for more information. Why was the label sewn into the coat? What was her brother like? Slowly, Inspector Heat understood that the mutilated remains he examined that morning belonged to Stevie, the brother of the woman speaking to him.
'Was he easily excitable?' asked the Inspector.
'Oh, yes. He is. But how did he lose his coat?'
Inspector Heat pulled the label out of his pocket and showed it to Mrs Verloc.
'Do you recognise this?'
'Yes,' she said, 'but why is it torn like this?' She sat down.
At that moment, Inspector Heat understood the truth about the bombing. Verloc was the 'other man'.
Mrs Verloc sat still. What was going on? Verloc came in.
'You!' said Verloc to the Inspector. 'What do you want?' He did not look at his wife.
'I want to talk to you,' said Inspector Heat.
Still Verloc did not look at his wife. 'Come in here, then,' he said, and led the way through to the back room.
When the door shut, Mrs Verloc jumped up, ran to the door and listened to their conversation.
She heard the Inspector's voice clearly.
'You're the other man, Verloc. Two men were seen entering Greenwich Park.'
Mr Verloc's voice said, 'Well take me now, then. You have the right.'
'Oh, no! I know you've already seen the Assistant Commissioner and told him everything. He'll have to sort this out.'
For a moment, Mrs Verloc heard nothing. Inspector Heat was showing Verloc the label from Stevie's coat. Then she heard her husband say, 'I didn't know she put labels in his clothes.'
'You must have been mad,' she heard Inspector Heat saying.
Mr Verloc's voice answered. 'I was mad for a month or more, but I'm not mad now. It's all over.'
'Tell me, how did you get away?'
'I was outside the park,' Mrs Verloc heard her husband's voice say, 'when I heard the explosion. It came too soon. That's when I started running.'
Mrs Verloc pressed her ear against the door. Her lips were blue, her hands were as cold as ice, and her face was so white her eyes looked like two black holes in it.
She heard Inspector Heat say, 'We believe he stumbled over the root of a tree.'
Then, in answer to a question, she did not hear, 'Of course. Blown to small bits; limbs, stones, clothing, bones - all mixed up together.'
Mrs Verloc jumped up suddenly. She put her hands over her ears and ran about the shop, crashing into things until she fell into a chair.
'I'm going to tell the whole story,' continued Verloc behind the door.
'If they want to hear it,' said the Inspector. 'My advice to you is to go away while you can. Disappear.'
'Where to?' asked Verloc. He stared at the closed door to the shop. 'I only wish you would take me away tonight.'
'I'm sure,' said the Inspector.
Inspector Heat opened the door and left the shop but Mrs Verloc did not notice. She sat perfectly still, with her hands covering her face.

Chapter 8: The Secret Agent's End

The Assistant Commissioner was on his way back to see Sir Ethelred. He arrived and was told that Sir Ethelred would see him immediately. He went into the room and sat down in front of the large, important man.
'So, what have you found out already?' asked Sir Ethelred.
'Well, Sir Ethelred, there are times when criminals need to confess to what they've done. This man, Verloc, did exactly that. All I needed to do was to tell him who I was and then to add, "I know that you are responsible for this attack."
'Then, I just asked him two questions. "Who told you to carry out this bomb attack? And who was the man who did it?" The answer to the second question is this: the man with the bomb who was blown to pieces was his brother-in-law - not a boy of great intelligence. The answer to the first question is...'
The Assistant Commissioner told Sir Ethelred about Mr Vladimir, the embassy's First Secretary. He explained that it was him who told Verloc to attack the Greenwich Observatory.
'For how long did you talk to Verloc? Do you believe him?' interrupted Sir Ethelred.
'Oh, yes,' replied the Assistant Commissioner, 'I talked to him for about forty minutes. It's clear that he didn't plan the death of the boy, his brother-in-law. He was shocked by it. I think the boy was supposed to set the bomb and get away, making it impossible for us to find out who was responsible for this crime.'
'What have you done with Verloc?' asked Sir Ethelred.
'He wanted to get back to his wife in the shop so I let him go,' said the Assistant Commissioner.
'Did you? But he'll disappear, run away.'
'No, I don't think so. Where can he go?'
'I'll see the Attorney General tonight and I'll send for you tomorrow morning,' said Sir Ethelred.
The Assistant Commissioner left the room.
When the Assistant Commissioner arrived home, he changed his clothes and went out to join his wife for dinner. She was at the house of the wealthy lady who took care of Michaelis.
When he arrived, he saw his wife in a small group of people near the piano. The old lady was sitting on a sofa with two other people, a man and a woman.
'I didn't think you were coming tonight,' said the old lady.
'Yes, my work finished sooner than I expected,' said the Assistant Commissioner. Then he added, 'I'm pleased to tell you that Michaelis is not involved in this bomb attack at all.'
Everyone was silent. The lady introduced the man sitting near her.
'I don't know if you have met before. This is Mr Vladimir,' said the old lady.
Mr Vladimir smiled but his eyes remained serious. After a brief conversation, Mr Vladimir left. The Assistant Commissioner followed him. He met Mr Vladimir outside. They walked along saying nothing. Eventually the Assistant Commissioner spoke.
'We've spoken to a man named Verloc,' he said. 'You know him.'
'What?' exclaimed Mr Vladimir. 'Why do you say that?'
'I don't. It's Verloc who says that.'
Mr Vladimir looked worried. How did the police know already about his involvement in the bombing?
'I just wanted to talk to you about this business. You see that we're not so stupid. I particularly wanted to tell you of our success,' said the Assistant Commissioner.
Mr Vladimir did not answer. He stopped a carriage and climbed in. He did not look happy.
After Inspector Heat left him, Mr Verloc moved about in the back room. He looked at his wife now and again through the open door. 'She knows all about it now,' he thought to himself. He felt sorry for her, but he was also pleased that he did not have to tell her himself. Inspector Heat had done it for him. That was good. Now he had to face her grief.
Mr Verloc never intended for Stevie to die with such sudden violence. He never intended for him to die at all. Mr Verloc knew Stevie was not intelligent but he also knew that Stevie adored him. He thought that Stevie was capable of following simple instructions and carrying out actions that they had practised many times before. Fifteen minutes was enough time to place the bomb and walk away. But Stevie stumbled only five minutes after being left alone. Mr Verloc had not thought of this possibility. He also had not known that his wife put Stevie's address in his coat. Now he did not know what to do.
He went into the shop.
'I didn't mean to hurt the boy in any way,' he said.
Mrs Verloc did not uncover her face. She said nothing.
'I didn't know how to tell you. And then Heat told you. I never meant to put the boy in danger.'
Mr Verloc, the secret agent, was speaking the truth. His wife still hid her face in her hands. He thought it was best to leave her alone for a while. He returned to the back room. He noticed the cold beef and the carving knife on the table. He cut himself a piece of bread and meat and began to eat.
After a while, he walked into the shop again. He stood dose to Winnie. She was making him feel uneasy. Of course, he expected her to be distressed, but he wanted her to get over it. He needed her help.
'There's nothing we can do about it now,' he said. 'Come, Winnie, we have to think of tomorrow. You'll need to think clearly when they take me away.'
He paused. Mr Verloc did not understand the extreme pain and sadness that his wife was feeling. He was disappointed in Winnie. 'Look at me,' he said.
'I don't want to look at you for as long as I live.'
'What!' Mr Verloc was surprised. He thought this was unreasonable. He could not possibly understand how much Stevie had meant to his wife.
'Look, you can't sit like this in the shop,' he said. He tried a different tone. 'Come now. This won't bring him back.' She did not move.
He tried again. 'Please be reasonable, Winnie. What if it had been me instead of Stevie?'
He took his wife's hands in his. Suddenly she pulled them away, ran out of the shop and into the kitchen. Verloc sat down in the chair. When he thought about his future, he saw a period of time in prison, an early release and then a life abroad somewhere. He thought, 'Winnie will have to look after the shop while I'm in prison.' He also thought about how much she would miss Stevie and was very worried about her. What if Winnie was too weak for all this? What would happen to the shop then?
Mr Verloc tried to explain to Winnie about Mr Vladimir and his orders.
'You don't know what a heartless man he is,' said Mr Verloc. He continued, getting angrier and angrier until he forgot what had happened to Stevie.
'You do understand, don't you?' Mr Verloc asked his wife.
Finally she spoke.
'No,' she said without looking at him. 'What are you talking about?'
'You have to be strong, Winnie. Why don't you go to bed and have a good cry?'
Mrs Verloc could not cry. She felt that she could only scream or stay silent: she stayed silent.
She sat thinking about Stevie's life, and memories of times she had shared with him. She thought about Stevie leaving the house with Verloc. 'Like father and son,' she whispered to herself. She was completely still; her face was white, her lips grey. She thought, 'This man took the boy away to murder him. He took the boy away from his home to murder him. He took the boy away from me to murder him! And then he came home just like any other man would come home to his wife.'
At this time, Mrs Verloc did not have complete control of her mind. She was filled with the thought that this man took Stevie away from her to kill him. Winnie got up and walked out of the kitchen.
'Where are you going?' asked Verloc. 'Upstairs?' He watched her as she disappeared up the stairs.
Mr Verloc felt very hungry again. He cut some more beef and bread. He heard Mrs Verloc coming down the stairs. She was dressed to go out.
In a calm voice Verloc said, 'It's too late to go to your mother now, Winnie. She'll be in bed already.'
Winnie was not thinking of going to her mother's. Her intention was simply to get outside the door forever. She did not want to stay with this man. 'I'd rather walk the street all the days of my life,' she thought. She sat down.
Mr Verloc was tired. All his energy had gone after the day's events, coming at the end of a month full of worry and sleepless nights. He could take no more. He sat down on the sofa.
'I never want to see or hear about Greenwich Park ever again,' he said quietly.
The words floated into Mrs Verloc's mind. Greenwich Park. A park! That was where Stevie was killed. A park - stones, leaves, bits of her brother's flesh and bone... Mrs Verloc closed her eyes, trying not to see the vision of Stevie's death.
Finally, she opened her eyes. Verloc was still on the sofa. Mrs Verloc walked towards her husband, picking up the carving knife from the table on her way towards him. She moved slowly, slowly enough for Verloc to see the knife in her hand. Slowly enough for him to realise his wife was mad. Slowly enough to think about escape. But he did not move. The knife was already stuck in his chest. Mr Verloc, the secret agent, turned on his side and died.

Chapter 9: An act of Madness or desperation

Mrs Verloc was no longer calm. She was now afraid. Verloc lay dead on the sofa. She had committed murder. Mrs Verloc knew what happened to murderers. They were hanged. She was afraid of hanging. She decided to go and throw herself into the river from one of the bridges. She went out the door of the shop and started walking. Then she thought about escaping. Murderers went abroad and disappeared. But where could she go? She knew no one. Suddenly she felt someone take her arm. She looked up. It was Ossipon.
'Mrs Verloc!' he exclaimed. 'What are you doing here?'
Ossipon had always found Mrs Verloc very attractive. Thinking that her husband had been killed in the explosion, Ossipon thought he could take advantage of this situation.
'Were you coming to the shop?' asked Mrs Verloc.
'Yes, as soon as I read the paper. Can I ask where you were going?'
'Don't ask me!' cried Mrs Verloc. She put her hand on his arm. 'Can you help me, Ossipon?'
'Of course I'll help you in your trouble,' he replied.
'And do you know what my trouble is?' she asked.
'I've spoken to the Professor and he told me what happened. I was coming to your shop - you know I've always felt great affection for you...'
'I thought so,' she said softly. Mrs Verloc thought Ossipon was her saviour. He would help her escape.
'You knew he was dead, then?' she asked. 'You guessed what I had to do. I had to! You must help me to get away!'
Ossipon was confused, but then he often found women confusing. He did not understand why she was so upset.
'How did you first hear about it?' he asked her.
'From the police. Chief Inspector Heat came. He told me -' Mrs Verloc cried in between breaths. 'Oh, Tom, there were bits of his body everywhere!'
'The police already!'
'Yes, and another man too. One of those embassy people I think.'
Ossipon was shocked.
'Embassy! What do you mean? What did he say? What did he do?'
'I can't remember... nothing... I don't care. Don't ask me,' she said tiredly.
Ossipon did not know what was going on. How much did she know? Why did she have to get away? Ossipon thought that the shop must be a dangerous place with policemen and people from embassies. But perhaps the Verloc's had savings. Perhaps he could get away with the woman and her money.
'You must hide me somewhere until morning,' said Mrs Verloc.
'I can't take you where I live,' said Ossipon. 'I share the room with a friend.'
'But you must. Don't you care for me at all?'
'Perhaps we can take a room somewhere. But the truth is, I don't have enough money. And there's the journey tomorrow.'
She did not answer. Then she put her hand to her chest.
'But I have,' she said, 'I have enough money. He gave it to me. All the money that was in the bank.'
'Well then, we're saved,' said Ossipon.
'You'll save me, Tom. Don't let them get me. I'm so afraid.'
'We'll get on the boat to France from Southampton. The boat leaves about midnight. We'll have plenty of time.'
'I must shut the shop door first. I forgot to close it,' said Mrs Verloc.
They arrived at the shop.
'Oh no, I've left a light on. Tom, go through and turn it off. I can't go in there.'
She pushed Ossipon towards the door. He did not know what to think of her strange behaviour. He walked into the back room and saw Verloc lying dead on the sofa. Ossipon did not like this situation at all. He had only been with Mrs Verloc for twenty minutes and already he was mixed up in such dangers. He was terrified.
'Don't let them hang me, Tom! Take me out of the country. I'll work for you, I'll care for you. I've no one in the world!' She moved towards him.
'Was he asleep?' he asked.
'No! He was sitting on that sofa after killing my Stevie.'
Suddenly, Ossipon understood: it was her brother that died in the park. He was terrified of Mrs Verloc. He thought quickly.
'Come on. Let's go or we'll miss the train.'
'Where are we going, Tom?'
'Let's get to Paris first and then we'll see. Go and see if there's anyone outside.'
She went. 'It's all clear,' she said.
They called a carriage and got in.
'When we arrive at the station,' said Ossipon, 'you go ahead of me, as if you don't know me. I'll get the tickets, and I'll put yours in your hand as I pass you. Wait until ten minutes before the train leaves, then get on. I'll get on after you and meet you on the train. There may be people looking for you. Do you understand?'
'Yes, Tom.'
'Perhaps you can give me the money for the tickets now,' added Ossipon.
Mrs Verloc handed him the wallet that she took from her dress.
Everything went according to plan. Ossipon and Mrs Verloc sat together in a small compartment on the train, waiting for it to move off. Eight minutes later, the train started to move slowly. Ossipon felt the train begin to roll more quickly. He walked across the carriage, opened the door and jumped out. He also managed somehow to close the door behind him. He landed on the platform, out of breath but unhurt.
Ossipon left the station, his pockets full of more money than he could count. He walked to his house and went to sleep.

TWO WEEKS LATER
Ossipon was sitting with the Professor in a restaurant. He pulled out an old newspaper from his pocket. The Professor looked over. The paper looked like it had been read many times before.
'What's that paper?' he said. 'Anything in it?'
'Nothing. Nothing at all. It's ten days old. I forgot it was in my pocket.'
But he did not throw it away. Before he put it back in his pocket, he looked quickly at the last lines of a paragraph. 'It seems that a mystery will always surround this act of madness or desperation.'
These were the words at the end of an article with the headline, 'Suicide of Lady Passenger from Cross-Channel Boat.'
The suicide of a lady - this act of madness or desperation - the words went round and round in Ossipon's head. He could not think, work, sleep or eat. He got up and left the restaurant. He walked without looking where he put his feet. He did not feel tired, he did not feel anything. He saw nothing and heard nothing, only those words in his head: 'A mystery... this act of madness or desperation.'