So when that name cropped up suddenly in this vexing bomb affair he realized all the danger of it for the ticket-of-leave apostle, and his mind reverted at once to the old lady's well-established infatuation.Her arbitrary kindness would not brook patiently any interference with Michaelis's *******.It was a deep, calm, convinced infatuation.She had not only felt him to be inoffensive, but she had said so, which last by a confusion of her absolutist mind became a sort of incontrovertible demonstration.It was as if the monstrosity of the man, with his candid infant's eyes and a fat angelic smile, had fascinated her.She had come to believe almost his theory of the future, since it was not repugnant to her prejudices.She disliked the new element of plutocracy in the social compound, and industrialism as a method of human development appeared to her singularly repulsive in its mechanical and unfeeling character.The humanitarian hopes of the mild Michaelis tended not towards utter destruction, but merely towards the complete economic ruin of the system.And she did not really see where was the moral harm of it.It would do away with all the multitude of the parvenus, whom she disliked and mistrusted, not because they had arrived anywhere (she denied that), but because of their profound unintelligence of the world, which was the primary cause of the crudity of their perceptions and the aridity of their hearts.With the annihilation of all capital they would vanish, too; but universal ruin (providing it was universal, as it was revealed to Michaelis) would leave the social values untouched.The disappearance of the last piece of money could not affect people of position.
She could not conceive how it could affect her position, for instance.
She had developed these discoveries to the Assistant Commissioner with all the serene fearlessness of an old woman who had escaped the blight of indifference.He had made for himself the rule to receive everything of that sort in a silence which he took care from policy and inclination not to make offensive.He had an affection for the aged disciple of Michaelis, a complex sentiment depending a little on her prestige, on her personality, but most of all on the instinct of flattered gratitude.He felt himself really liked in her house.She was kindness personified.And she was practically wise, too, after the manner of experienced women.She made his married life much easier than it would have been without her generously full recognition of his rights as Annie's husband.Her influence upon his wife, a woman devoured by all sorts of small selfishnesses, small envies, small jealousies, was excellent.Unfortunately, both her kindness and her wisdom were of unreasonable complexion, distinctly feminine, and difficult to deal with.
She remained a perfect woman all along her full tale of years, and not as some of them do become - a sort of slippery, pestilential old man in petticoats.And it was as of a woman that he thought of her - the specially choice incarnation of the feminine, wherein is recruited the tender, ingenuous, and fierce bodyguard for all sorts of men who talk under the influence of an emotion, true or fraudulent; for preachers, seers, prophets, or reformers.
Appreciating the distinguished and good friend of his wife, and himself, in that way, the Assistant Commissioner became alarmed at the convict Michaelis's possible fate.Once arrested on suspicion of being in some way, however remote, a party to this outrage, the man could hardly escape being sent back to finish his sentence at least.And that would kill him; he would never come out alive.The Assistant Commissioner made a reflection extremely unbecoming his official position without being really creditable to his humanity.
`If the fellow is laid hold of again,' he thought, `she will never forgive me.'
The frankness of such a secretly outspoken thought could not go without some derisive self-criticism.No man engaged in a work he does not like can preserve many saving illusions about himself.The distaste, the absence of glamour, extend from the occupation to the personality.It is only when our appointed activities seem by a lucky accident to obey the particular earnestness of our temperament that we can taste the comfort of complete self-deception.The Assistant Commissioner did not like his work at home.
The police work he had been engaged on in a distant part of the globe had the saving character of an irregular sort of warfare or at least the risk and excitement of open-air sport.His real abilities, which were mainly of an administrative order, were combined with an adventurous disposition.
Chained to a desk in the thick of four millions of men, he considered himself the victim of an ironic fate - the same, no doubt, which had brought about his marriage with a woman exceptionally sensitive in the matter of colonial climate, besides other limitations testifying to the delicacy of her nature - and her tastes.Though he judged his alarm sardonically he did not dismiss the improper thought from his mind.
The instinct of self-preservation was strong within him.On the contrary, he repeated it mentally with profane emphasis and a fuller precision: `Damn it! If that infernal Heat has his way the fellow'll die in prison smothered in his fat, and she'll never forgive me.
His black, narrow figure, with the white band of the collar under the silvery gleams on the close-cropped hair at the back of the head, remained motionless.The silence had lasted such a long time that Chief Inspector Heat ventured to clear his throat.This noise produced its effect.The zealous and intelligent officer was asked by his superior, whose back remained turned to him immovably:
`You connect Michaelis with this affair?' Chief Inspector Heat was very positive, but cautious.
`Well sir,' he said, `we have enough to go upon.A man like that has no business to be at large, anyhow.'
