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“I’ve had a lot of time to think about things,” said Michaelis, who had just recently been released from prison after spending fifteen years there. The police were still watching him very closely. “I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s economics that causes change in the world.Everything that happens is based on the economy.Everything!”
On the other side of the room a laugh could be heard coming from the toothless mouth of Karl Yundt. He was quite old and had lost all of his hair. Although he had become very weak with age, there seemed to be enough strength in him to commit one last murder. He liked to call himself“The Terrorist”.
“The world needs to be led by men with no pity for anyone or anything.” he said, “Cold, heartless men can destroy without feeling guilty. But where are these men? I’ve only found three in my entire lifetime!”
Then small clouds of smoke appeared from another part of the room where Comrade Ossipon was seated. He had written most of the letters that their organization, F. P., had been putting up on walls around the city. His face had the look of a common criminal: a wide, flat nose, surrounded by little dark spots, with a large mouth spreading into an ugly smile underneath. Most people called him The Doctor, because he had once been a medical student, although he had never finished his studies.
He stood up from his chair and opened the door to Mr. Verloc’s card-playing room. Inside, Stevie could be seen sitting at a table drawing hundreds of circles on a white piece of paper.
“Hmm,” Ossipon said, “this kind of behavior is common among idiots.”
“He’s not an idiot,” answered Mr. Verloc.
“Scientists would say that he’s an idiot.”
Mr. Verloc did not like hearing the word “science”. It reminded him too much of Mr. Vladimir and gave him an ill feeling deep in his stomach.
“If we’re patient enough, we’ll soon see the world change before our eyes. Capitalism is dying, I’m telling you!” Michaelis continued.
“So we should just sit around and wait? Just let time change the world?” asked Ossipon.
“No, there must be a revolution someday. First,however, we must educate the people with our letters. We must go out among them and speak to them, teach them.”
“It’s not education, but emotion that causes the people to want change,” argued Ossipon.
“If you ask me,” Karl Yundt said, “The whole economic system has turned to shit! The rich drinking the blood of the poor!”
Stevie, having stopped his drawing a moment ago, heard this last sentence. It made him very frightened.
Michaelis then put his hat on his head and then stood up to go. The others, one by one, followed him. And soon, Mr. Verloc was closing the door to his shop behind them all. He was very disappointed in them. In fact, he was disgusted. Yundt, who was so old that he needed an old woman-friend of his to care for him every day, was too weak; Michaelis,with his rich female friend giving him money all of the time, was a time-wasting dreamer; and Ossipon was nothing more than a chaser of young women.They were not the right men for the embassy job.He envied them, actually. They were all so lazy. And they could be lazy without any worries, because they did not know Mr. Vladimir and because, when it came to money, they all had women to take care of them. Mr. Verloc, however, had to take care of his woman. He had to make sure this job was done or he would lose everything.
Putting the money drawer in his arms, he decided to go to bed. On his way to the staircase ,he suddenly realized that Stevie had not yet gone to bed. He was running around the kitchen table, chasing an imaginary animal or something. Mr. Verloc watched the boy for a few moments, thinking, “This is another mouth that I must feed.” He then walked upstairs. He passed his mother-in-law’s room and hearing her loud breathing, he thought, “Another stomach to fill.”
When he reached his bedroom he woke up his wife and asked that she put her brother to bed.Without saying a word, she jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, shutting the door behind her. Mr.Verloc slowly dressed himself for bed. He was uncomfortable and nervous. Mr. Vladimir’s face kept appearing and reappearing in his mind, reminding him that his job was now very unstable. He put his head against the window and suddenly became more aware than ever of London’s ugliness all around. Then Winnie returned.
“He’s upset about something that he heard you and your friends discussing downstairs. He kept saying something about someone drinking another person’s blood.”
“It was Karl Yundt who said that,” answered Mr. Verloc.
“I don’t like that man. He disgusts me. Michaelis, however, is quite a gentleman. Anyway, Stevie can’t hear such things. He thinks it’s real and gets terribly frightened. Why, just the other day, he read one of those stupid little letters Ossipon always asks us to sell for him. There was something in there about a police officer cutting off a man’s ear... I don’t remember exactly. It was awful. And poor Stevie was just crazy for the rest of the day and night. He’s such a gentle person. He hates the idea of people hurting one another.”
Mr. Verloc was not really listening to Winnie any longer . He was too worried about the moment when she would turn out the lights. The darkness of London would then surround him and he would feel even more helpless than now.
“Well, I’m tired. I suppose we should try to get some sleep,” she said, “Good night.”
“I’ve not been feeling well lately,” Mr. Verloc said, trying to prevent her from turning out the light.
“You just need a good night’s sleep,” she answered, turning off the light next to the bed.
“Yes, maybe you’re right,” he responded, knowing there would be no sleep for him this night.