As I drank my beer, surrounded by noisy tourists and scurrying young waitresses, I gazed at the park and wondered what to do now.

I had delivered Gesar’s mysterious gift to Erasmus. I had obtained information from him—all that he was willing to impart, at least. And I had also acquired an oak chalice in which Erasmus’s prophecy was supposedly stored.

After I’d left the old Other’s home I had traveled as far as the shop Fortnum and Mason that Semyon had told me about and had bought him the honey he was lusting after. Surrendering to the herd instinct, I got some for myself as well. Then I set out for the toyshop Hamleys (if the shop sign could be believed, the oldest shop for children in the world) and, after jostling my way through five stories of clamoring children and their parents, I chose a present for my daughter. At first I tried, like an honest spy, to make out what girls of her age were buying, but then I realized that all those beads, stickers, and glittery things wouldn’t bring her any joy at all. And then I went down into the basement, where I found something like a toy maze with two tiny electronic beetles that were supposed to run through it. The toy was so astoundingly absurd that I bought it without a second thought, and at the checkout I picked up a teddy bear as well.

The true horror of the situation was that I had carried out the entire program for my visit to London in a single day! Whisky and other alcoholic souvenirs could be bought more easily in the airport. I could devote the whole of the next day and half of the one after that to tourist pastimes—museums, parks, pubs, bridges . . . and shops too, of course.

But somehow I didn’t fancy any of it. Neither the gloomy severity of the Tower, nor the magnificence of the royal parks, nor the glitter of London’s shops. I had already been on Piccadilly. I had gazed at the Thames and tossed a two-pence piece into the murky water. I wanted to go home!

I was probably insane.

I finished up my mug of beer and fell into thought for a brief moment. I didn’t want to go to the hotel: the only entertainments there were the tiny bar and the TV in my room. Basically, there was nothing to prevent me having another pint . . . I started rising to my feet from the wooden bench that is traditional for all self-respecting pubs.

“I’ve already got it in.” A full mug of beer appeared on the table in front of me.

First I lowered myself back down onto the bench. And then I looked into the face of the woman who had shown such unexpected solicitude for me.

Although there really wasn’t any need for that. I had recognized Arina from her voice.