Transformed into a secret investigator, Bartlett moved quietly under the cover of shadows. Having experienced numerous instances of night infiltration, he was very adept at such operations.
Soundless footfalls, agile leaps, and nimble rolls - the infiltrator Bartlett was a ghost in the city, unseen by anyone.
He used a grappling hook to scale residential rooftops, hid in dense oak trees, and carefully removed dead leaves and branches from his head; he sprinted through narrow alleys, took shelter under large aprons hanging outside, and pocketed a couple of bronze coins from within; he crouched in the bushes, waiting for patrolling guards to pass before slipping into nearby lavatories, emerging with a tug at his trousers; if a guard dog barked, he would scare it back into its kennel with a cold, murderous glare before silently cursing the excrement he inadvertently stepped on.
Bartlett was like a nimble cat, nay, a tiger, in this jungle made of stone and brick, hunting his prey.
