prophetic and doleful despatches had been for years the joke of Foreign
Offices. He was said to have exclaimed on his deathbed (visited by his
Imperial friend and master): "Unhappy Europe! Thou shalt perish by the
moral insanity of thy children!" He was fated to be the victim of the
first humbugging rascal that came along, thought Mr Vladimir, smiling
vaguely at Mr Verloc.

"You ought to venerate the memory of Baron Stott-Wartenheim," he
exclaimed suddenly.

The lowered physiognomy of Mr Verloc expressed a sombre and weary
annoyance.

"Permit me to observe to you," he said, "that I came here because I was
summoned by a peremptory letter. I have been here only twice before in
the last eleven years, and certainly never at eleven in the morning. It
isn't very wise to call me up like this. There is just a chance of being
seen. And that would be no joke for me."

Mr Vladimir shrugged his shoulders.

"It would destroy my usefulness," continued the other hotly.

"That's your affair," murmured Mr Vladimir, with soft brutality. "When
you cease to be useful you shall cease to be employed. Yes. Right off.
Cut short. You shall--" Mr Vladimir, frowning, paused, at a loss for a
sufficiently idiomatic expression, and instantly brightened up, with a
grin of beautifully white teeth. "You shall be chucked," he brought out
ferociously.