the sudden recollection of Mr Vladimir, another of his associates, whom
in virtue of subtle moral affinities he was capable of judging correctly.
He considered him as dangerous. A shade of envy crept into his thoughts.
Loafing was all very well for these fellows, who knew not Mr Vladimir,
and had women to fall back upon; whereas he had a woman to provide for--

At this point, by a simple association of ideas, Mr Verloc was brought
face to face with the necessity of going to bed some time or other that
evening. Then why not go now--at once? He sighed. The necessity was
not so normally pleasurable as it ought to have been for a man of his age
and temperament. He dreaded the demon of sleeplessness, which he felt
had marked him for its own. He raised his arm, and turned off the
flaring gas-jet above his head.

A bright band of light fell through the parlour door into the part of the
shop behind the counter. It enabled Mr Verloc to ascertain at a glance
the number of silver coins in the till. These were but few; and for the
first time since he opened his shop he took a commercial survey of its
value. This survey was unfavourable. He had gone into trade for no
commercial reasons. He had been guided in the selection of this peculiar
line of business by an instinctive leaning towards shady transactions,
where money is picked up easily. Moreover, it did not take him out of
his own sphere--the sphere which is watched by the police. On the
contrary, it gave him a publicly confessed standing in that sphere, and
as Mr Verloc had unconfessed relations which made him familiar with yet
careless of the police, there was a distinct advantage in such a
situation. But as a means of livelihood it was by itself insufficient.

He took the cash-box out of the drawer, and turning to leave the shop,
became aware that Stevie was still downstairs.