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Chapter 13 Yellow pools of light lined Macquarie Street. The occasional twinkle from porches and black windows cast no strength into the black velvet of the night. Midnight had trailed away. Dawn idled on the horizon. Each building was a grey frontage guarding against the night-time mysteries of the Botanical Garden on the opposite side of the street. Only a few hardy sleepless souls were out. The evening had turned cold early; bitterly so and frost limed the paved road. Smoke dwindled from a thousand chimneys, blanketing the city in a wintry fog that eddied and rolled down pathways and lanes, over fences and walls, coating all with the slime and grit of spent coal. Clement gripped the spear head hidden in the folds of his cloak. The porch light over the door of the Garden Arms Hotel ha