That evening, in my customary guise as Dr. Ragostin's secretary, Ivy Meshle, I went home to my rented lodging and shared a less-than-satisfactory supper of carrots and kidneys with my elderly landlady. Since Mrs. Tupper is as deaf as a cast-iron gatepost, I attempted no conversation while we ate. But afterward, I signalled her that I wished to borrow some reading material from her. That is to say, I spread my hands as if opening a newspaper, then pointed upward, towards her bedchamber. There were only three rooms in her East End hovel: mine, hers, and the single cooking/dining/sitting-room on the ground floor. Still, the sweet old soul did not understand. Placing her trumpet to her ear, she leaned towards me over the table and bellowed, "What? You say there's a bat got in upstairs?"

…

…

…

 

>> 网页版功能未完善，完整内容，请扫码微信小程序。