Chapter 10
Daleneky's Public House near the heart of the City of London would never be anyone’s definition of high society.
Dark wooden floors, walls, and tables, which bright lighting surely would not improve. Thankfully the handful of gas and electric lights were barely supplemented by a few low windows, liberally coated with a couple-hundred years of candle and fire pit soot, along with the smoke from countless puffs of cheap tobacco.
A twisted warren of booths, set back from the main dining area, if one could call most of what got served there “dining.” A good bit of the menu fit the definition of swill. The aroma of overcooking and stale beer perfumed the air.
But Superintendent Edwin Stewart had an affection for the place, not at the least because despite all the low-level filth,
