Victor

Secret Agent, The
Conrad, Joseph

Secret Agent, The

Table Of Content
About Phoenix−Edition
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Secret Agent, The

The Secret Agent

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Secret Agent, The

CHAPTER I

M r Verloc, going out in the morning, left his shop nominally in charge of his
brother−in−law. It could be done, because there was very little business at any time, and
practically none at allbefore the evening. Mr Verloc cared but little about his ostensible
business. And, moreover, his wife was in charge of his brother−in−law.
The shop was small, and so was the house. It was one of those grimy brick houses
which existed in large quantities before the era of reconstruction dawned upon London. The
shop was a square box of a place, with the front glazed in small panes. In the daytimethe
door remained closed; in the evening it stood discreetly but suspiciously ajar.
The window contained photographs of more or less undressed dancing girls;
nondescript packages in wrappers like patent medicines; closed yellow paper envelopes,
very flimsy, and marked two−and−six in heavy black figures; a few numbers of ancient
French comic publications hung across a string as if to dry; adingy blue china bowl, a
casket of black wood, bottles of marking ink, and rubber stamps; a few books, with titles
hinting at impropriety; a few apparently old copies of obscure newspapers, badly printed,
with titles like THE TORCH, THE GONG − rousing titles. And the two gas jets inside the
panes were always turned low, either for economy's sake or for the sake of the customers.
These customerswere either very young men, who hung about the window for a time
before slipping in suddenly; or men of a more mature age, but looking generally as if they
were not in funds. Some of that last kind had the collars of their overcoats turned right up to
their moustaches, and traces of mud on the bottom of their nether garments, which had the
appearance of being much worn and not very valuable.And the legs inside them did not, as
a general rule, seem of much account either. With their hands plunged deep in the side
pockets of their coats, they dodged in sideways, one shoulder first, as if afraid to start the
bell going.
The bell, hung on the door by means of a curved ribbon of steel, was difficult to
circumvent. It was hopelessly cracked; but of an evening, at the slightestprovocation, it
clattered behind the customer with impudent virulence.
It clattered; and at that signal, through the dusty glass door behind the painted deal
counter, Mr Verloc would issue hastily from the parlour at the back. His eyes were naturally
heavy; he had an air of having wallowed, fully dressed, all day on an unmade bed. Another
man would have felt such an appearance a distinct disadvantage.In a commercial
transaction of the retail order much depends on the seller's engaging and amiable aspect. But
Mr Verloc knew his business, and remained undisturbed by any sort of aesthetic doubt about
CHAPTER I

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Secret Agent, The

his appearance. With a firm, steady−eyed impudence, which seemed to hold back the threat
of some abominable menace, he would proceed to sell over thecounter some object looking
obviously and scandalously not worth the money which passed in the transaction: a small
cardboard box with apparently nothing inside, for instance, or one of those carefully closed
yellow flimsy envelopes, or a soiled volume in paper covers with a promising title. Now and
then it happened that one of the faded, yellow dancing girls would get sold to an amateur, asthough she had been alive and young.
Sometimes it was Mrs Verloc who would appear at the call of the cracked bell. Winnie
Verloc was a young woman with a full bust, in a tight bodice, and with broad hips. Her hair
was very tidy. Steady−eyed like her husband, she preserved an air of unfathomable
indifference behind the rampart of the counter. Then the customer of comparatively tender
years would...