The meeting was held in the back room of a bookshop on Cecil Court. Ed had never been to Cecil Court before. He had heard of it—everyone in London's literary and political world had heard of it—a narrow passage off Charing Cross Road that was lined with antiquarian bookshops and print sellers and the kind of establishments that catered to men and women who read for pleasure and for purpose. The bookshop was called Dulcet & Sons, or something like it, and its front window was filled with volumes...