At the entrance of the alley where the clerk was attacked, someone swiftly arrived, swept a clean spot on the ground, set up a simple table and chairs, lit some charcoal in a mud stove, and warmed up a pot of liquor.
Mr. Nicholas arrived on a leisurely walk, a smile on his face, and sat down on the chair.
A few high-profile musicians from the Berg Tower, trembling with fear, delicately played their lutalins.
Mr. Nicholas waved to the clerk, "Let's wait here with some warm wine for Mr. Brenton's triumphant return from capturing the criminal."
The clerk's legs were still trembling. They had fooled him into believing he was being protected. When he was shrouded in that cocoon of silk, he thought he was already dead. A simple scrape of that silk on my neck would...
But he didn't dare picking a fight with Mr. Nicholas and gingerly sat by his side.
Before long, Morris Brenton returned with a woman in tow. But Mr. Nicholas secretly furrowed his brow.
So soon?
