"Yes; at once," answered Ossipon. "Directly I read the paper."
In fact, Comrade Ossipon had been skulking for a good two hours in the
neighbourhood of Brett Street, unable to make up his mind for a bold
move. The robust anarchist was not exactly a bold conqueror. He
remembered that Mrs Verloc had never responded to his glances by the
slightest sign of encouragement. Besides, he thought the shop might be
watched by the police, and Comrade Ossipon did not wish the police to
form an exaggerated notion of his revolutionary sympathies. Even now he
did not know precisely what to do. In comparison with his usual amatory
speculations this was a big and serious undertaking. He ignored how much
there was in it and how far he would have to go in order to get hold of
what there was to get--supposing there was a chance at all. These
perplexities checking his elation imparted to his tone a soberness well
in keeping with the circumstances.
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