The cold spring rain in Saint Petersburg kept tapping against Fox's carriage. With every 'plop plop' sound, his irritation grew heavier.
His assistant, tormented by the stifling atmosphere, couldn't take it anymore and cautiously started a conversation: "Sir, we haven't come away empty-handed. For example, we've learned the Russians are amassing supplies in large quantities..."
Fox interrupted with a sullen face: "They're preparing to go to war with the Ottoman Empire. That's something every Tsar does. Are you planning for me to use this to report back to the Prime Minister?"
The assistant shrank his neck, not daring to speak further.
At that moment, the carriage suddenly slowed, and the attendant riding beside knocked on the window, pointing to a black carriage in the rain and said to Fox, "Sir, someone over there wishes to see you."
A moment later, after the man outside closed his umbrella, Fox's expression turned to surprise: "Count Zubov? Oh, please, come inside."
