Dim gas-light cast an un-natural glow upon the dark, cobbled streets, diffused by the thin fog that had settled down for the evening; a veil that refused to be parted. With a dedicated pace Godfrey Wolesley made his way down the street, his coat pulled close around him. Normally, nights like this were perfect for conducting business, but tonight he preferred a practice of a different kind. The clic-clak-clic-clak of his heels echoing on the cobbles carried into the air. To someone else, he must seem a specter, a distant presence ever moving but always there, just around the corner. The mere thought brought a thin, cruel smile to his lips.