Amongst them a tall galdori dressed in a cheap but simple brown suit and bowler hat, in one hand a battered but serviceable case, in the other a plain wooden cane.
The Inspector has taken care to not only change his appearance but also his manner, his walk is less sure, his shoulders hunched and his face has a slightly haggard air as he make his hurried progress down the street.
Every bit the harassed clerk worried about being late. However from from behind small round spectacles his shrew dark eyes obaerve everything.
At the imposing facade of the Customs House Titus joins a crowd of clerks and minor burocrates and follows them in through a side door. No one bats an eye, for he is just another drone in this busy hive of commerce.
He follows signs to the department he is after and sits himself down at an empty desk. The desk is not vacant by chance, the man who normally occupies it has taken the day off, richly compensated for his loss of hours.
Titus takes out ledgers from his case and, like all the other clarks, makes himself busy for a time.
He is in place, the easy part is done. Now his real work begins. Somewhere in this building is his quarry, the hunt has begun.