Southampton to Havre. His name is George Harris–at least that's the name he is going by. Do you remember that name?" "Yes," I said, "when I went up to London a week ago you asked me to book a cabin in that name on the boat that goes tomorrow. I gave you the ticket." "Here it is," he said, producing it from his pocket.
'"Now," Manderson said to me, poking his cigar-butt at me with each sentence in a way he used to have, "George Harris cannot leave England tomorrow. I find I shall want him where he is. And I want Bunner where he is. But somebody has got to go by that boat and take certain papers to Paris. Or else my plan is going to fall to pieces. Will you go?" I said, "Certainly. I am here to obey orders."
'He bit his cigar, and said, "That's all right; but these are not just ordinary orders. Not the kind of thing one can ask of a man in the ordinary way of his duty to an employer. The point is this. The deal I am busy with is one in which neither myself nor any one known to be connected with me must appear as yet. That is vital. But these people I am up against know your face as well as they know
