Okay, story arch over. Back to the daily grind.
Crumpled telegram after crumpled telegram lay upon our poor long suffering carpet. I glanced at one. "My congratulations on your recent…" Another. "My thanks to you for assisting Britannia in…" "All of our commendations for your remarkable…"

And there he was, slumped in his armchair, frustrated and miserable.

If failure is relative, so too is success. All that mattered to him was this – the Professor had evaded his grasp once more.

I went to him, wrapped my arms about his thin frame, kissed him, and pretended not to notice the furious, angry tears that were gathering wetly on my shoulder.