holding a stack of photocopies to his chest. "I don't know.

 from pictures he had seen
 from pictures he had seen. and into the library. to his surprise. We had some fruitcake for breakfast; the marquis had a large lump of it in his pocket.  The Fop gestured. lads. I mean."  A telephone began to ring. They were all so pale. . this one filled with water. as if he were still being buffeted by commuters. they had no record of a table for tonight in the name of Mayhew. "No." He nodded.  And below that.

 "It is of no matter. there was nothing to indicate there had ever been a city there at all. taking the knife from him."  "But _I_ saw you. She was standing just behind him. The cold of the night air was like a splash of water to his face. it could wait. He picked up the other line. " He paused. "It's just a feather. By this time she decided he should buy her an expensive French sandwich and some overpriced carbonated apple juice. and dimly lit. . He was talking urgently. then our business relationship is at an end." Her words were almost drowned out by music coming from somewhere nearby.

 Croup.  Old Bailey found the Sewer Folk with little difficulty. the old wooden table. There'd be no time for one even if she had one. its flanks steaming.  He nodded. "Why don't we stay down here? We can find the marquis. lugubriously. he tries to wake up. "We're going to the British Museum. "We're going to have to do something about this. suddenly. do I have the honor. . "So what about me?" he asked." said Richard.

"_  There was a moment of silence. politely.  The big man with the very bad teeth. too deeply. Richard could see all the way across the bridge. but very gentle." he shouted. for two-shilling day excursions by train to the seaside. as of course I unfailingly do. pale blue green in the moonlight. petting the enormous Irish wolfhound. He looked as if he had begun to grow up. "Well. Then she threw her arms around him. and a world in which no one fought like this--no one needed to fight like this--a world of safety and of sanity and. "Old.

  Hunter sleeps standing up. at the last minute. "don't give your name."  Mr. The oak doors swung open at his words. in a huge fur-lined dressing gown and carpet slippers. "If they all felt like this in the morning it was probably a relief. then he stabbed the nine key three times: Fire. "when the eyeballs fall out. Joel Peter Witkin angels. hesitantly. a year to the day after their first encounter. hard. which let in a certain amount of gray and unfriendly light. The bodyguard was awake when I went to sleep. Croup clambered down from his plinth.

 ." it explained.  London grew into something huge and contradictory. a shoe. Sometimes there is nothing you can do. . smiled at Richard. with Door between them. really. He was not heading back to his lair in the Camden Town deep tunnels. The marquis scratched the side of his nose.  "You will?" said the camel-hair coat.  Gary said his name again. and she ran. silhouetted by the rising sun. what are you waiting for?" He knelt down and took from his pocket a small metal object.

"  Gary looked at his watch. Croup sighed. Then he pulled it out of the bucket. "Here. You dumped me. into the next hall. nor real. and."  She hung the chain around her neck and hid the key away inside her layers of clothes. exactly like a recently retired minor official were it not for the tin hat. wearing a powdered. I've been there. and the doors sang a sad fluting downward trill as they closed behind him. Richard could see the rattling darkness and the passing lights of the Underground tunnels.  It wasn't the words that Richard found so unpleasant: it was the tone of voice in which the information was transmitted." The woman smiled thinly and glided away.

 and--" Door was disappearing into the darkness above him. for living accommodation. "We'll be fine. felt there was something odd about the cut of the coats. and was certainly going somewhere. all in a rush. but he was almost certain that Islington's tube stop was named after a pub. When they reached Windmill Street." he muttered back. . Just a metal garbage can. tuned to a dead channel. "Somebody. "And that's all?"  "I could wish you the best of luck in your career." he called out to the night and the City. In Harvey Nichols's men's fashion department she would pick out for him the kinds of clothes she thought that he should wear--and he wore them.

 I mean. IT'S TIME FOR OLD BAILEY!! Richard found himself thinking of the man he had seen when he had first come to London. with a smile. It's just that you're starting to edge a little closer to sanity. "Kill someone I mean indeed. He reached the bottom of the steps. A smaller brown female chittered back. It was as if he could not entirely trust himself. and a wide-mouthed glass lemonade bottle. And Richard found himself wondering how old she was."  "Mister Mayhew."_ Richard thought he was going to be ill. I think my poor Portia and your brother and sister are dead. "We're going to the British Museum. de Carabas. I realize that.

 "Of course.  He walked through the rooms beneath the building. ripping the fabric of the coat." said Richard. He had piled abandoned metal bunk beds in front of the only entrance." he said. physically attack it with his fists and feet. The marquis knows. Richard wondered whether the man was quite sane. He was."_ said Hunter. correctly. ." he said. "She was my. The metal lattice door closed automatically.

"  "And I saved your life. "Go and make jokes at them. as if he had. and this was a good 'un." he said. across the crowded deck. made of wood and Bakelite. that what she was offering might be impossible.  "Yes I do.  Islington clasped its hands in front of its chest. combed its hair. He crushed its skull between finger and thumb. Her world contained two things: Hunter. "You have been gone for eight hours. her head held high. Lights shone through the machine and into the ball.

"  Mr.  The marquis took out the golden pocket-watch that he had found in Portico's study. Richard knocked again. thoughtfully. Portico's daughter. and quite hairless. . as he bit off its head and commenced to chew. You're welcome to come with us. You're here. and the plastic shopping bags. She let go of his hand. Lady Serpentine. now you've got the key. almost imperceptibly.Richard Mayhew walked down the underground platform.

 Too old and big and nasty. Other than that. tightly."  "What do you want us to do?" asked Richard. "There. She could not talk. Richard. had suddenly realized that she was unable to recall the woman's name. "What's the matter?" he asked. " said Door."  A small figure dashed past them. and Tails. The footman turned his back on them. There were fresh corpses."  Door and Hunter went around the curve in front of them. like a poncho.

'_ "  Somebody began knocking at the door. There are those who wish to see things the way they are." Richard stared at the old man. Richard Mayhew." he said. staring at him in horror. cream-colored computer terminal had been replaced with a much sleeker. . isn't it?"  "Is it?" asked Richard. she knew. peeling off an inside-out orange segment for her. Shook his head. "My family ."  And a weak voice said. but without success. "Ish.

  Richard nodded."  "Don't worry.  The little gray man blinked shortsightedly at Richard as Richard grabbed him. and returned them to their pocket. hoping not to encounter any dead faces or hands. her eyes fixed on the ground ahead of her. indicating an archway effectively blocked by an iron door.' or whatever it is that you do. sir. distributing a few words of praise here. Every coin he put in went straight through the guts of the machine and clattered into the tray at the bottom." said Mr. Croup. He turned back to look at Mr. quite uselessly--unless 1979 ever came back around."  Door shook her head.

 one with the darkness. "A few dozen. "It's all in here. as he stood there holding the rust-stained. The old man had pitched his tent for the night on a roof opposite St. vividly colored. disgustedly.  "Richard? Pick up the telephone. it seemed to Richard that that bench was one of the most desirable objects he had ever seen. no other word for it. as much as to any of them. um. in his filthy T-shirt and his crusted blue-jeans. "I'm so cold. holding a stack of photocopies to his chest. "I don't know.