Hawksmoor

How did he know about the churches?'

The crosses may not be churches.'

Hawksmoor paid no attention to this. 'I never mentioned the churches. Not to anyone outside. Of course they must be churches.'

This last remark was directed again at Walter, who now shifted uneasily under Hawksmoor's gaze as he tried to think of something more positive to add. 'And that tramp was there, wasn't he?'

'I know he was there, Walter. That's what worries me.'

The evening was misty as Hawksmoor left the office, and a circle of roseate light had formed around the almost full moon. He walked up Whitehall and then turned right into the Strand, noticing at that moment how the exhalation of his breath mingled with the mist.

Someone behind him was saying, 'I have said too much!' but when he turned his head he could see only two children coming towards him through the cold evening. And they were singing: Then he unto the parson said, Shall I be so when I am dead?

Oh yes, oh yes, the parson said,

You will be so when you are dead.

But this must have been an illusion, for then he heard 'Pe

'We're going to burn him.'

'Well wait, don't do it yet. Wait.' He walked on and, as he turned up Katherine Street, he thought he heard the sounds of one particular step following him: he turned around quickly with a sigh, but he could see only the crush of evening travellers with their bodies bent forward.

Then he walked a little further and heard the same step again, echoing louder in the mist. 'I'll lead you a dance,' he whispered to himself, and quickened his pace as he turned sharply left into Long Acre, crossed among the heavy traffic coming out of St Martin's Lane, and darted through the small alleys of that vicinity. When he turned once more, he smiled because he could see no one still in pursuit.

In fact Walter had been following him. The behaviour of his superior was begi

I LOOKED DOWN upon the Street, as the Su

Leave me, I whispered, I am sick and would be solitary for a while.

There is Blood upon your Gown, Master, let me Leave me! And in that Instant I bethought myself of the Writings I kept and which could still condemn me in spite of Mr Hayes his Extinction. Nat! Nat! I called out as he was about to slink away. Do you know the little Box beneeth the Bed, Nat?

I have seen it this Day and every Day since I entered your Service, which was a great Time ago, and it has never been moved Nat, leave off your Ramblings, take this Key and open it. There is a Notebook inside it which I wish you to find. Dig deep withi

But cover it first with stinking Stuff, so that they care not to look into it.

And all this while Nat was rummaging in the Box with I see it not and It is not in this Corner and It is missing from this Spot until he stands up solemnly and declares: It is gone.

Gone?

It is not here, not there, not anywhere. It is Gone.

I put my Face against the Glass, groaning and contemplating this further Turn, till like a Louse I jumped: for tho' my own Back was but patched and peeled, and my Box had vomited up its Secrets I knew not whither, I could not absent my self from the Office on such a Day as this; so, with much Pain, I put on my Cloathes and coach'd it to Scotland Yard. Yet I need not have been in as great a Hurry since Mr Hayes was not miss'd at first; he was constantly attending the Works and giving directions to the Workmen, going from place to place as he thought fit and (he being a Bachelour without Family to raise the Alarm) those in the Office merely ask'd, Has Mr Hayes left Word, or a Note in his Door, to let us know where he is to be found? It was said, I suppose he has not murdered any Body? And who laugh'd the loudest but myself?

It was after Noon when the Corse was discovered beneeth the Pipes new laid by St Mary Woolnoth, which fact was made known to me in the following Ma

Dead?

Quite dead. Where is Walter?

I kept my Countenance: Mr Hayes dead? If this is so, I have heard nothing of it. And I rose from my Chair in feigned Disbelief.

Well that is strange, he replied, since it was Walter who discovered the Body. Where is Walter? I must speak with him.

I sat down at once and answered him trembling: I have not seen him, sir, but I have no doubt I will.

I am so much taken by the Rogue's adventure, do give me leave to question him myself.

How did Hayes die?

He died a servant to your Church, for some Ruffian must have set upon him as he inspected the Foundacions of St Mary Woolnoth.

In Lombard Street?

I believe it is there, Mr Dyer. He looked on me oddly at this, and indeed I scarce knew what I was saying as in my Thoughts I contemplated the sight of Walter gazing down at the Corse of Mr Hayes.

Did you tell me how he died?

He was choaked to Death.

Choaked?

Strangled, like a Bear on a Leash. What Age is this, he goes on, when the Churches are not hallowed?

He looked at me then with half a Smile, and it came into my Mind to jest with edge tools (as they say), knowing that from Death springs Laughter: if you have forgot your Age, I replied, consult your Glass.

At that he gave a very genteel turn to the Ribbon of his Cravat-string: I see, says he, that you leave off the Grimaces of a feigned Sadnesse and, to speak plainly, I did not like the Man myself.

I liked him well enough, I declared, and I wished no Harm to come to him. Again I tried to rise from my Chair saying, I must go now to discover the Truth in all this. But there came a sudden Giddinesse into my Head: there was a scent of Orange-Flo wer-water in the Room, I saw Va