I walked into the public with some trepidation, holding my staff ready in case of a sudden assault. It was situated in a quiet corner of World’s End Close and the sign above was ill-spelt and faded, but promised “the best in ales and wines”. The clientele watched me enter, narrow-eyed people with haggard faces, some working men and women drinking away their cares, others from the criminal class, seeking an opportunity to prey on their fellows, and a few ladies of the street. One of the latter eyed me, calculating if I were a possible client. I resolved to stay as far as possible from her. Ordering a whisky, I slid on to a bench in the corner nearest the door, wondering what to do next.
The barmaid leaned over me, smelling of smoke. “You’re an unfamiliar face,” she said, not unfriendly.
“
