Mister Creecher
“Billy took Creecher on a convoluted route to Clerkenwell. The lamps were already lit in the busy shopping streets of the city, but lights were few and far between in these parts.
The wide, bright thoroughfares of the centre branched and forked into narrower and narrower, darker and dingier streets and courtyards. Rickety bridges arched across stinking black ditches to filthy alleyways.
A drunkard reeking of gin took one look at Creecher as he strode past and fell to the floor, gibbering..., his hands clasped together in prayer.
Eventually Billy led Creecher to the end of an alley that opened out on to a wide street of warehouses. The bone-melters, glue-makers, leather-tanners and cloth-dyers were all closed up for the day. The owners lived elsewhere. No one with any money or sense would choose to live amid that putrid stink.
But some people did not have the choice and one such was old Gratz. He was a tailor by trade – or so he had been in the old days, back in Prague where he had lived as a young man.MoreLess
The wide, bright thoroughfares of the centre branched and forked into narrower and narrower, darker and dingier streets and courtyards. Rickety bridges arched across stinking black ditches to filthy alleyways.
A drunkard reeking of gin took one look at Creecher as he strode past and fell to the floor, gibbering..., his hands clasped together in prayer.
Eventually Billy led Creecher to the end of an alley that opened out on to a wide street of warehouses. The bone-melters, glue-makers, leather-tanners and cloth-dyers were all closed up for the day. The owners lived elsewhere. No one with any money or sense would choose to live amid that putrid stink.
But some people did not have the choice and one such was old Gratz. He was a tailor by trade – or so he had been in the old days, back in Prague where he had lived as a young man.MoreLess
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