Mr. Verloc left the house quite early this morning, an unusual thing for him. Mr. Verloc normally enjoys staying up until late at night and sleeping until noon. This morning, however, he has an appointment that he has failed to tell his wife about. Mr. Verloc walks through the streets of London, observing the people around him as he goes. Mr. Verloc feels that he looks like any other tradesman in London. Mr. Verloc could be a mechanic or some other well-to-do tradesman. However, there is an air about him that suggests otherwise, a subtleness about him that speaks of gambling halls.
Mr. Verloc approaches his destination, a well-known address on Porthill Street. A porter ushers Mr. Verloc into the French Embassy and escorts him into a small, over furnished room. Soon, Privy Councillor.....
