She had begun alone. Sheppard, horror-stricken. She went out into the hall, where she met the Jedsons in their kimonos. One could go to him and tell him one loved him. “Thank you, ma’am. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. I'll send for Wu Fang. He slapped his knee. Fortescue?” “At your service. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical.
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