The assassin listened in silence to the accusation of failure. After years of dark streets, pale blades, empty rooms, secret letters, late nights in cafes, and conversations whispered in the penumbra of old cathedrals and colonnades, he suddenly felt tired. What is wrong with my methods? the assassin asked, for he had never failed a single mission. It is not a matter of your tradecraft, said the official; it is a matter of your stagecraft.