seven o’clock
Comrade Ossipon had turned the key on Mr Verloc 's repose ; and this he did not from reverence for its eternal nature or any other obscurely sentimental consideration , but for the precise reason that he was not at all sure that there was not someone else hiding somewhere in the house . He did not believe the woman , or rather he was incapable by now of judging what could be true , possible , or even probable in this astounding universe . He was terrified out of all capacity for belief or disbelief in regard of this extraordinary affair , which began with police inspectors and Embassies and would end goodness knows where -- on the scaffold for someone . He was terrified at the thought that he could not prove the use he made of his time ever since seven o'clock , for he had been skulking about Brett Street . He was terrified at this savage woman who had brought him in there , and would probably saddle him with complicity , at least if he were not careful . He was terrified at the rapidity with which he had been involved in such dangers -- decoyed into it . It was some twenty minutes since he had met her -- not more .