Mr Verloc, thus led along a ground-floor passage to the left of the great carpeted staircase, was suddenly motioned to enter a quite small room furnished with a heavy writing-table and a few chairs.

The servant shut the door, and Mr Verloc remained alone.

He did not take a seat.

With his hat and stick held in one hand he glanced about, passing his other podgy hand over his uncovered sleek head.
Another door opened noiselessly, and Mr Verloc immobilising his glance in that direction saw at first only black clothes, the bald top of a head, and a drooping dark grey whisker on each side of a pair of wrinkled hands.

The person who had entered was holding a batch of papers before his eyes and walked up to the table with a rather mincing step, turning the papers over the while.