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It's still the same day; It's not over yet, there are no beds. For a long time after leaving Mikael, George Smiley let his feet lead him forward, not knowing where he was going. He was too tired and too excited to trust himself to drive, but still sober enough to notice the movement behind him and get rid of the possible tracker behind him with a sudden turn. Soaked and with heavy eyelids, he waited for his mind to calm down, trying to relax, step by step out of his 24-hour sleepless marathon sprint. He walked across the embankment to a tavern on Noxenburland Street, probably "Sherlock Holmes,......

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