Ausable did not fit any description of a secret agent Fowler had ever read. Following him down the musty corridor of the gloomy French restaurant where Ausable had a room, Fowler felt let down. It was a small room, on the sixth and top floor, and scarcely a setting for a romantic adventure.
Ausable was, for one thing, fat. Very fat. And then there was his accent. Though he spoke French and German passably, he had never altogether lost the American accent he had brought to Paris from...