furor over the whole thing; captains of industry and M.P.'s running around,

all

scratched up and with their clothes torn, naked women, dead bodies, people

hurt

in some sort of a stampede because the roof was falling in. My God! What the

hell happened?"

Blood shifted uneasily in the hospital bed and grimaced with pain. "It's a

long

story, sir, terribly complicated and rather difficult to explain." He groaned

and smiled bravely.

"Well... I realize you're in some discomfort, Michael, but... damn it all,

can't

you tell me something'! I saw your father, and he absolutely refused to

discuss

it. Ian's in critical condition and under doctor's orders to receive no

visitors, and no one else will talk about its. Lord Carfax has disappeared

somewhere, and all I've got is some bloody Irish cabdriver who keeps grinning

like an idiot and talking about what a hell of a party it was!"

"Yes, I can appreciate your position, sir," said Blood, shifting slightly and

grimacing elaborately, throwing in a couple of soft groans for good measure.

"Are you all right? You want me to get the doctor?"

"No, no, shouldn't bother. Perfectly fine, sir. Just a bit of pain—it's

nothing,

really."

"Well... if you're quite sure..."

"Oh, quite... unhhh! Oh, Lord..." He managed a brave smile. "Quite sure, sir.

I'll manage. All will be in my report, sir, after I've had a chance to...

unnnh!Ohhhh ... get all the details down... aaah!... straight away, after a

bit

of rest..."

The door opened, and Wyrdrune, Kira, Billy, and Makepeace came in. Kira was

carrying some flowers.

"Michael, how are you feeling?" Kira said. She glanced at the superintendent.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you had company. Should we wait outside?"

"No, no, quite all right, I was just leaving," said the superintendent. He

glanced at the four of them with slight distaste, then glanced at Blood with

puzzlement.

"Friends of mine," explained Blood.

"Ah," said the superintendent, frowning faintly. He bent down close to Blood

and

whispered, "Really?"

Blood nodded conspiratorially. "Street contacts," he said softly.

"Informants,

you know. One has to develop close relationships."

"Ah," said the superintendent. "Pity." He straightened up and cleared his

throat, "Well, I'll be off. All hell breaking loose, you know. Suppose I'll