When Pascale Auber is forced out of the airship of the evil Dr. Simpelstur, she finds herself rescued by a handsome Ruritanian diplomat, Theo von Hentzau. Pascale soon realizes that Theo is hiding something - something to do with the evil doctor, th...
My stomach always hurts when I walk into my boss' office. It is not that he is unkind or unreasonable. He is just – overwhelming. Given my youth and the novelty of my position, I am never quite sure what might disappoint him.
The office is large and well-lit by a series of electric lamps suspended from the ceiling. The walls are lined with book shelves, each containing not only books, but dozens of marked-up scrapbooks and manilla folders. Besides the boss' own chair, located behind a massive desk, there are three other chairs scattered around the room. Only one of these chairs is positioned to make conversation with the boss convenient.
A range of pneumatic tubes are located within easy reach of the desk, and the desktop itself is home to no less than four telegraphic keys. On the wall behind the desk he keeps a telephone and a large painting of two young boys, the older perhaps eight years old, the younger a mere infant. I originally thought these were his own children, but I now believe that the older boy may represent an infantile stage of the boss' own development – the clothing is out of fashion, and there is something similar about the eyes. Not that my superior would in any way remind the casual viewer of an eight year old boy; he is a heavily built man, almost massive, with a strong brow and deep-set eyes. He is not a man one disobeys easily.
When I entered, my boss was seated at his desk, carefully folding a sheet of paper in thirds. He perfunctorily gestured me to the chair directly across from him, and placed the sheet into an envelope. The envelope was sealed with red wax and an official government seal, then placed into a cylindrical glass case. Still not acknowledging my presence, he placed the case into the pneumatic tube closest to his desk. He then tapped something on one of his telegraphic keys, waited a moment, and pressed a button on the side of the tube. With a delicate rattle, the message whisked up the tube and disappeared. Then my boss brushed a few, nearly invisible grains of pounce powder from his desk, and turned to me, frowning.
"Agent Auber." He said. "What do you have for me?"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
