Chapter FourClouds had threatened London all day, but it was the night that dragged down torrents of rain that still failed to cleanse the sin from filthy streets. Watters stood at his living room window and sucked at his pipe, allowing the aromatic smoke to drift around his face and head.
'Christmas Eve,' he muttered as he surveyed the length of Easter Street below. 'It should be snowing.' He remembered the scene in Dicken's Christmas Carol when Scrooge sat at his fireside on this very day and gave a short laugh. 'Bah, humbug,' he said.
People stood in the street below. He saw a family of three standing arm-in-arm, with the father laughing while the mother adjusted her daughter's cape against the rain. A young gentleman hurried past them, with rain dripping from the brim of his tall hat
