Another decent day today. Just a few words short of 5K, and reached a nice stopping point just in time to knock off this afternoon.

It looks like Zokutou may have gone belly up, so unless they've just had a service hiccup, I may have to find a new progress meter. It looks like Writertopia.com has one that seems serviceable, which I'll use until something better comes along.



Today's writing included a bit of martial arts (in a scene heavily inspired by "The Talons of Weng Chiang"), a brief tour of the East End, and a confrontation with Quexi, the mistress of crime known as the Ghost Fox, within her stronghold deep underground beneath the streets of Limehouse (which, if anything, is even more inspired by "Weng Chiang").

To the laundrymen’s continued dismay, the abduction persisted in failing to follow the accepted script. The four Chinese gentlemen, one rubbing an aching jaw and another a sore pate, lingered in the foyer of the York Place house while Blank repaired to his octagonal bedroom, bathed, and dressed. Miss Bonaventure, for her part, hired a cab and rode home, to do the same.

Three quarters of an hour later, Miss Bonaventure returned, to find Blank in the library having a cup of coffee and a cigarette, and trying unsuccessfully to engage their would-be abductors in conversation.

“I suggested that we might all have breakfast before going on,” Blank said, brightly, “but they’d have none of it.”

Miss Bonaventure shrugged. “I’ll confess I grabbed a quick bite of the meal Mrs. Pool had prepared for me, so I’ll survive until lunch, I think.”

“Splendid!” Blank clapped his hands, and strode to the foyer, where he retrieved his bowler hat and cane from the table. Then, carefully selecting an orchid from the vase, he affixed it to his button hole, and turned to smile at the laundrymen. “We’re ready when you are, gentlemen.”

The quartet of laundrymen, exchanging dark glances, shuffled out through the foyer, eyeing Miss Bonaventure warily.

Tomorrow, the tragic story of Xenophon Brade...