Chapter 25
Grasping at a Straw
The town of Zurich was beginning to stir in the raw daylight. A skinny mare with steam billowing out of its nostrils clomped along the bumpy cobblestone alley pulling a tinker’s wagon. The metal cups and pans hanging from the wagon’s sides clanged and rattled a wakeup call to the slowly rousing city.
In his dingy bachelor flat, Albert lay huddled under a comforter as the frigid winter air whistled through the poorly shuttered window. A tiny gas lantern cast its scant glow into the room, fighting a losing battle against the gloom. The harsh but not entirely unpleasant scent of burnt firewood pervaded, despite the cracks in the plaster that ventilated the room. Newspapers and books were strewn around with no discernible organization. The place was a mess. On
