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work he was engaged on was mere routine,
the rectification of a long list of figures, not needing close attention.
Whatever was written on the paper, it must have some kind of political
meaning. So far as he could see there were two possibilities. One, much the
more likely, was that the girl was an agent of the Thought Police, just as
he had feared. He did not know why the Thought Police should choose to
deliver their messages in such a fashion, but perhaps they had their
reasons. The thing that was written on the paper might be a threat, a
summons, an order to commit suicide, a trap of some description. But there
was another, wilder possibility that kept raising its head, though he tried
vainly to suppress it. This was, that the message did not come from the
Thought Police at all, but from some kind of underground organization.
Perhaps the Brotherhood existed after all! Perhaps the girl was part of it!
No doubt the idea was absurd, but it had sprung into his mind in the very
instant of feeling the scrap of paper in his hand. It was not till a couple
of minutes later that the other, more probable explanation had occurred to
him. And even now, though his intellect told him that the mess