It was dark by the time St. Cyprian made his way back to No. 427. He'd made sure to see Wendy-Smythe off safely from King's Cross, and then turned his steps towards home. The Crossley grumbled as he brought it to a stop on the street, and set the brake. He leaned back in his seat, thinking of what he'd learned. Which wasn’t much.
The presence of a member of the Order of the Cosmic Ram at the crime scene could have been a coincidence. The Order was far larger than he liked to think about, and...