And in any case there was something else to think about. A rumor had been filtering through the streets for some weeks: a rumor that made some people laugh and others grow silent, as some people scoff at ghosts and others fear them. For no reason that anyone could imagine, children were beginning to disappear.
* * *
It would happen like this.
East along the great highway of the River Isis,
original newport cigarettes, thronged with slow-moving brick barges and asphalt boats and corn tankers,
baseball lanyards, way down past Henley and Maidenhead to Teddington, where the tide from the German Ocean reaches, and further down still: to Mortlake, past the house of the great magician Dr. Dee; past Falkeshall, where the pleasure gardens spread out bright with fountains and banners by day, with tree lamps and fireworks by night; past White Hall Palace, where the king holds his weekly council of state; past the Shot Tower,
levitra buy, dropping its endless drizzle of molten lead into vats of murky water; further down still, to where the river,
marlboro cigarettes stamp, wide and filthy now, swings in a great curve to the south.
This is Limehouse, and here is the child who is going to disappear.
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