You can't expect a detonator to be absolutely foolproof.«
    He beckoned to a waiter. Ossipon sat rigid, with the abstracted gaze of
mental travail. After the man had gone away with the money he roused himself,
with an air of profound dissatisfaction.
    »It's extremely unpleasant for me,« he mused. »Karl has been in bed with
bronchitis for a week. There's an even chance that he will never get up again.
Michaelis is luxuriating in the country somewhere. A fashionable publisher has
offered him five hundred pounds for a book. It will be a ghastly failure. He has
lost the habit of consecutive thinking in prison, you know.«
    The Professor on his feet, now buttoning his coat, looked about him with
perfect indifference.
    »What are you going to do?« asked Ossipon, wearily. He dreaded the blame of
the Central Red Committee, a body which had no permanent place of abode, and of
whose membership he was not exactly informed. If this affair eventuated in the
stoppage of the modest subsidy allotted to the publication of the F. P.
pamphlets, then indeed he would have to regret Verloc's inexplicable folly.
    »Solidarity with the extremest form of action is one thing, and silly
recklessness is another,« he said, with a sort of moody brutality. »I don't know
what came to Verloc. There's some mystery there. However, he's gone. You may
take it as you like, but under the circumstances the only policy for the
militant revolutionary group is to disclaim all connection with this damned
freak of yours. How to make the disclaimer convincing enough is what bothers
me.«
    The little man on his feet, buttoned up and ready to go, was no taller than
the seated Ossipon. He levelled his spectacles at the latter's face point-blank.
    »You might ask the police for a testimonial of good conduct. They know where
every one of you slept last night. Perhaps if you asked them they would consent
to publish some sort of official statement.«
    »No doubt they are aware well enough that we had nothing to do with this,«
mumbled Ossipon, bitterly. »What they will say is another thing.« He remained
thoughtful, disregarding the short, owlish, shabby figure standing by his side.
»I must lay hands on Michaelis at once, and get him to speak from his heart at
one of our gatherings. The public has a sort of sentimental regard for that
fellow. His name is known. And I