“Inspector Judas Iscariot of the Black Museum, as I live and breathe. What brings you to the Pocket Room, may I enquire?”
The Cunning Man’s accent was awful. He was a semi-educated man that had convinced himself that the better one spoke the more loot one could extort. Judas disliked him immediately.
“Sit down, Murrell.”
“I would be delighted, sir, momentarily of course. I have a small piece of business that I cannot step away from. You will be here over the course of the evening will you not?”
Judas stood up quickly, grabbed Murrell by the throat and then casually stuffed him into the seat opposite. Murrell tried to look offended but no one else in the Pocket Room was going to help him and incur the wrath of the Museum.
“Sit there and shut up, Murrell. I haven’t got all night. Where
