The Exposé
The day to return to court came, and I was told not to appear before luncheon. When I went out my front door, more crowds than usual were at the barricades. On the drive there, many lined the street shouting, just as they did that first day. The closer we got, the more people there were, all shouting in anger.
What had agitated them?
I entered through the side door. Mr. Doyle Pike met me in the small room. “I hope you’re well?”
“For days now. You quadrant-folk have some strange rules.”
He chuckled. “I suppose so.” He glanced at the armed maid, a stout unsmiling woman of perhaps sixty. “Might we have a moment in private?”
She left, and I said, “I presume I’m to speak again today?”
“Yes,” Mr. Pike said. “Try to find an opportunity to,” he glanced at the corner, “bring up th
