Explore "The Informer" by Liam O’Flaherty on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was three minutes to six o'clock in the evening of the fifteenth of March 192‒.
Francis Joseph McPhillip ran up the concrete steps leading to the glass-panelled swing door that acted as street entrance to the Dunboy Lodging House. The House, as it was called in Dublin, among criminal and pauperized circles, was a grey concrete building of four stories. It stood on the left-hand side of a wide windswept asphalt lane off B -- -- Road on the south side of the city. A maze of slum streets surrounded it. An indefinable smell of human beings living in a congested area filled the air around it. From the building itself, a smell of food and of floors being scrubbed with soap and hot water emanated.