The idea of going for news straight to the shop lacked charm.

His notion was that Verloc's shop might have been turned already into a police trap.

They will be bound to make some arrests, he thought, with something resembling virtuous indignation, for the even tenor of his revolutionary life was menaced by no fault of his.
And yet unless he went there he ran the risk of remaining in ignorance of what perhaps it would be very material for him to know.

Then he reflected that, if the man in the park had been so very much blown to pieces as the evening papers said, he could not have been identified.
And if so, the police could have no special reason for watching Verloc's shop more closely than any other place known to be frequented by marked anarchists--no more reason, in fact, than for watching the doors of the Silenus.

There would be a lot of watching all round, no matter where he went.