But of that last I am not sure, not having carried my investigations so far into the depths.
For all I know, the expression of these last may be perfectly diabolic.
I shouldn't be surprised.

What I want to affirm is that Mr Verloc's expression was by no means diabolic.
Before reaching Knightsbridge, Mr Verloc took a turn to the left out of the busy main thoroughfare, uproarious with the traffic of swaying omnibuses and trotting vans, in the almost silent, swift flow of hansoms.
Under his hat, worn with a slight backward tilt, his hair had been carefully brushed into respectful sleekness; for his business was with an Embassy.

And Mr Verloc, steady like a rock--a soft kind of rock--marched now along a street which could with every propriety be described as private.

In its breadth, emptiness, and extent it had the majesty of inorganic nature, of matter that never dies.

The only reminder of mortality was a doctor's brougham arrested in august solitude close to the curbstone.