Artemius Holmes was currently running through back alleys right now.
Why, one might ask, would the twenty-seven-year-old do such a thing?
Other than the fact such an occasion was surprisingly common while being Inspector Morrison's partner, Artemius's mouth had gotten him in trouble again.
The detective had spooked a suspect (again), because of one too unnerving observation he didn't keep in check.
"Bother," the sergeant could only sigh as the laborer he suspected to be involved with a certain secret society had bolted.
At least the giant of a man ran instead of getting physical, Artemius tried to tell himself. The man's arms had been bigger than his head and the last thing he wished was to be punched by someone who did manual labor lifting heavy weights for a living.
"Stop or I'll shoot!" the detective warned as it looked like the man will soon arrive at the main thoroughfare.
