A crimson flood of anger ran over his face.
"Nonsense--eh?
The Embassy people! I would cut their hearts out one after another.

But let them look out.

I've got a tongue in my head." He fumed, pacing up and down between the table and the sofa, his open overcoat catching against the angles.

The red flood of anger ebbed out, and left his face all white, with quivering nostrils.

Mrs Verloc, for the purposes of practical existence, put down these appearances to the cold.
"Well," she said, "get rid of the man, whoever he is, as soon as you can, and come back home to me.