Fr Verdoux's hand automatically rose to his head. He pulled at the hair there, his gesture compulsive and neurotic, but nonetheless characteristic. He had expected nothing until he met with the young Mr. Cullen on the stairs. He noted the labored, wobbly gait of the boy. But that could have amounted to dreadful hunger and wretched sleep at best. Indeed, he may have set aside this fact had it not been for Mr. Cullen's reaction to his very presence.
The voice which left the young man's lips was very unlike his usual, soft-spoken tones. Indeed, it was so unlike that of any human being. It hissed, rasped, as though manipulating the vocal chords in a way which was not meant for them. The words, "Don't let him near me!" sealed the deal. It seemed clear to Verdoux that the entity had influenced young Cullen, if not possessed him.
"Mr. Cullen?" Fr Verdoux questioned, his outward demeanor placid, with the veneer of calm. "You are unwell, then? You expect harm?"