The attitude was of a chase, but the mechanics were of a plod. Neither the Owl’s hackney nor Matthew’s could gain much speed in this weather, so it was more of a slow-motion ramble. At one point Matthew feared his driver was going to smash into the rear of the one ahead, which swerved to avoid another coming in from a street on the right, but with a hollered “Whup, Hermes!” from the driver which seemed to make some sense to the horse the steed slowed in its seeming intentions to crash through to where the Owl sat possibly twisting his head in all directions.

The hackney ahead turned north and so did Matthew’s driver. Matthew thought he could hear the man giggling at this romp, which was likely a departure from his usual more staid nightly work. “Are we chasin’ a jewel thief or an unfaithful wife?” the man called out, almost breaking Matthew’s ear, and Julian shouted from below, “Both!” which made the driver hit the reins as if to make Hermes airborne.

In another few minutes they were entering an area of London that was so far removed from The Octopus Garden and The Green Spot as to be part of another world. The wheels crunched through snow on a road alongside a large park where the whitened foliage was manicured into what appeared to be the whimsical shapes of horses. Pine trees surrounded a gazebo lit up with multi-colored lanterns to celebrate the Christmas season. Through the trees on the other side of the park could be seen the houses of the wealthy, also even at this late hour illuminated with many lanterns in their windows and on their sweeping porches as if time meant nothing but the accumulation of more money to that singular breed of men.

The Owl’s hackney was curving around the park toward that grand row of stellar estates, and so followed Matthew’s carriage.

“Slow down!” Julian advised from below, as it was apparent the vehicle carrying the Owl had begun to ease its pace as the road’s curve straightened out before the abodes of what might have been the gods of London. Matthew saw the Owl’s carriage stop in front of a high gate. Beyond the gate, another road led between more sculpted foliage perhaps twenty yards to the steps of a huge house of white stone whose array of slanted roofs were covered with snow, and whose windows of varied shapes were ablaze with lamplight. The entire estate was surrounded by an iron fence. At the gate stood a man wearing a long dark greatcoat, a tricorn and a woolen mask over his face as protection from the cold. Matthew saw the Owl hurriedly get out and approach the gate, and before Julian could voice it Matthew said, “Drive on past the house.”

“Yessir, as you say.”