Yes, Mayonnaise had informed him, the Order of the Fabled Saint was indeed real, dangerously real even, and his direct superior was given to a sense of promptness when it came to the carrying out of her orders.
Of course, of course, the large man had said, and with no further argument he had hurried them to the two rooms where Hutter and Knock resided—employer and employee—separated only by the thinnest of walls, and then scurried away, begging their understanding in that he had other pressing business to attend to.
Hutter was a thin man, a ghastly man, Mayonnaise thought. Harried by the ills and sorrows of the past weeks, he appeared to have lost weight during his time in recuperation, though assumedly such had been counter to the wishes of those who had trusted him to the care of the i
