’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. The highest form of knowledge was magic: the priesthood. As he gazed down into the courts of the prison, he could not help shuddering, lest a false step might precipitate him below. He was wary of her, which meant that perhaps they had found one or many of the bodies that she thought she had hidden so well.
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