Every trace of huskiness disappeared from Verloc's voice.

The nape of his gross neck became crimson above the velvet collar of his overcoat.

His lips quivered before they came widely open.
"If you'll only be good enough to look up my record," he boomed out in his great, clear oratorical bass, "you'll see I gave a warning only three months ago, on the occasion of the Grand Duke Romuald's visit to Paris, which was telegraphed from here to the French police, and--" "Tut, tut!" broke out Mr Vladimir, with a frowning grimace.

"The French police had no use for your warning.

Don't roar like this.