Got snared on a little project, had to push myself to get some of this done.
The business I was upon was the sort that needed no gossipy cabbie to see, so I was half-soaked by the time I reached the disreputable house that was my destination. And there in front of me was young Edgar W[*], shivering and sniveling under the spluttering gaslight. His finery was soggy and his expression woebegone, neither of which were normal for him. But then; if the boy had been quite himself, he would never have needed to send for me.
These night-time enterprises typically go the same way, so I raised a hand to forestall him. “I do not care what you did or did not mean to do, my boy.” My tone at these little moments is much sterner than is my usual wont. It saves time. “That is not important. What is important is, who witnessed it, and who has been told already?”
“No! No!” he exclaimed, as if on cue. “It’s not like that, Harry!”
“On the contrary: it is always like that,” I told him, severely. “And no names. Names cost extra to wash away in the rain.”