Thread:Berry6419/@comment-26767096-20170110162423

Mr. Sacks said.. this.

''Up the carriage goes, north through Veilgarden, to Heartscross Hill, past the cemetery. Mr Sacks sits silently all the while, his hood turned to the window. He scribbles absently in a notebook with his left hand. The hand is gloved: but its fingers seem too numerous and much too slender. You sneak a peek at the notebook. The script is upside-down, and not quite Aramaic.''

''The carriage comes to a halt at the summit of the hill. The Neath roof is deep black above, pricked with blue-green light. All around you, London glimmers red and gas-blue.''

''Mr Sacks hands you a note. It reads: THERE IS MORE THAN ONE GREAT GAME. LET NONE OF US BE CHESSMEN. BE CAREFUL WHO YOU ARE. DO NOT TRUST THE BAZAAR. I HAVE NOT WRITTEN THIS NOTE. He waits until you've read it, and then tears it into tiny pieces. As the carriage returns through the streets to your lodgings, he drops the pieces out of the window, one at a time.''

''Your rooms have been searched. The searchers have been careful, but thorough; little is disordered, but they've been through every drawer and cupboard: examined every journal, manuscript and bill. Nothing is broken. Nothing is untouched.''  