And, indeed, if ever Death himself sat writing at a wooden table, it might have been he.
He looked up and smiled brightly enough as the men came in, and rose with the resilient rapidity of which the Professor had spoken.

He set chairs for both of them, and going to a peg behind the door, proceeded to put on a coat and waistcoat of rough, dark tweed; he buttoned it up neatly, and came back to sit down at his table.
The quiet good humour of his manner left his two opponents helpless.

It was with some momentary difficulty that the Professor broke silence and began, "I'm sorry to disturb you so early, comrade," said he, with a careful resumption of the slow de Worms manner.

"You have no doubt made all the arrangements for the Paris affair ?" Then he added with infinite slowness, "We have information which renders intolerable anything in the nature of a moment's delay." Dr.Bull smiled again, but continued to gaze on them without speaking.
The Professor resumed, a pause before each weary word-- "Please do not think me excessively abrupt; but I advise you to alter those plans, or if it is too late for that, to follow your agent with all the support you can get for him.

Comrade Syme and I have had an experience which it would take more time to recount than we can afford, if we are to act on it.