Mrs Verloc unfastening hastily a couple of hooks, slipped the pocket-book under the bodice of her dress.

Having thus disposed of her husband's capital, she was rather glad to hear the clatter of the door bell, announcing an arrival.

Assuming the fixed, unabashed stare and the stony expression reserved for the casual customer, she walked in behind the counter.
A man standing in the middle of the shop was inspecting it with a swift, cool, all-round glance.

His eyes ran over the walls, took in the ceiling, noted the floor--all in a moment.

The points of a long fair moustache fell below the line of the jaw.