It took a number of weeks, but finally my patience was rewarded. After a day at my post, I had returned home for my dinner, before emerging once more into the cold air. It was ten o'clock and all the shops were long closed as I made my way once more to the doorway where I stood sentry, waiting for some sign of Mister Hyde.

It was a pleasure to find that, though cold, there was no cloud to suggest the possibility of the rain I had endured on previous nights. The patterns of lights cast upon the street were unmoving, cast by lamps untroubled by any movement of the air. Sounds of London were audible in the distance, but this street was silent, and in the still unmoving air, every tiny sound, a scuff of my shoe, the chink of a plate or glass from one of the houses, seemed unnaturally loud. I am an unimaginative man, but it felt as though the city were holding its breath.