Explore "A Secret Service" by William Le Queux on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On the kerb in the Strand, opposite the entrance to the Gaiety Theatre, I was, one wet winter's night, selling newspapers.
Ill-clad and unwashed, I lounged about with the cab touts who were waiting for the conclusion of the performance, and although for the past hour I had shouted the contents of the papers under my arm, I had only sold three copies. The dirty ragged rabble from the slums off Drury Lane eyed me with askance as a new hand, little suspecting that I was acting the part of detective.