The white wolf's bulk passes ahead of him and inside as he removes his flat-brimmed Stetson and tucks it under his arm before doing likewise. He turns to close the door behind him, shutting out the noise and bustle of London with it.
He moves to the centre of the room, his hat under his arm, and his hands clasped in front of him.
"I apologise for my lateness, sir. I was waylaid several blocks away by a group of tourists, who--"