Research
was slow going that night. But, Reginald mused, research was rarely wont to be
done in haste. For Master Mystery, the act of researching was rarely each sure
but more of the cleansing ritual that he happily partook in whenever he got the
chance. Now that there were actual lives on the line, he could enjoy his
research all the more, as the fax that he would discover could be used to help
others, while also earning him a hefty profit.
Having
retired to the Pink Swan just as the sun set, Reginald had ordered room service
to his private suite and unloaded is a briefcase of books and scrolls, intent
on discovering what exactly could be attacking these people in such a horrible
manner. After all not many creatures of the night still roamed the streets of
England in this day and age.
Well… Not many creatures of supernatural means
perhaps.
