The Ripper Affair (Bannon And Clare)
“Whitchapel had its own stench, and Limhoss no Scab, but in Archibald Clare’s considered judgment there were few places in Londinium to outdo the latter in matters of fragrance. Perhaps it was the Basin, or maybe the mariners who congregated in its dens and dosses, the tar of the ropes or the tight-packed press of alien flesh–for the Chinois population of the Isle was concentrated here, and their suffusion of odours was foreign as well as rank.
Ginger and spices, the starch of their rice and boi...ling of their odd oils, different fish than an Englene would eat, the dry rough note of raw silk, and an acrid smoke enfolded them. Even the fog was a different shade here, its billows assuming the shapes of their odd writing, their crouching, painted charter stones near the doors alive with weak saffron light so they could practise their native arts of minor charming without the risk of nasty side-consequences.
Aberline knocked twice at a collection of splinters masquerading as a door, which shivered and opened immediately.MoreLess
Ginger and spices, the starch of their rice and boi...ling of their odd oils, different fish than an Englene would eat, the dry rough note of raw silk, and an acrid smoke enfolded them. Even the fog was a different shade here, its billows assuming the shapes of their odd writing, their crouching, painted charter stones near the doors alive with weak saffron light so they could practise their native arts of minor charming without the risk of nasty side-consequences.
Aberline knocked twice at a collection of splinters masquerading as a door, which shivered and opened immediately.MoreLess
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