I ask Cuco how The Verne Club gets illegal, over-proof alcohol like absinthe through the fine-toothed comb of Argentine customs.
My immediate chief was a Lieutenant Colonel Verne L. Bowers, clearly picked out by Eisenhower as a highly talented staff officer.
The Verne Club is a hip, steampunky cocktail club in Palermo Soho inspired by, you guessed it, Jules Verne.
In some ways the Carruthers system was even more efficient than the Verne cipher.
Many of Verne's best stories were never translated from the French.
You should not publish it in book form at all—for this reason: it is only an imitation of Verne—it is not a burlesque.
But I think it may be regarded as proof that Verne cannot be burlesqued.
Verne himself is off for Plattsburg, and Winthrop North is already across the water, driving an ambulance on the western front.
Gadgetry to come, as repeatedly demonstrated by Verne, is easy.
That it's ironic that the letters in Verne's name, rearranged, spell 'never.'