His life, maybe. One could wish, but right now he needed to concentrate. He read avidly the article from a time-yellowed page of the Tavistock Clarion... realising very quickly this was exactly where Conan Doyle had poached the Baskerville legend, which in essence was: ‘…young pretty serving wench abducted by debauched drunken hunting party… escapes their lustful clutches by fleeing across the moor at night… pursued by the said mounted huntsmen, with pack of hounds trained with her scent… the. . what?" Allow me to show you something, Blake." Oh, no, I... wait. How'd you know my name?"The man in the grey suit just stared back at him with dark, unblinking eyes. "It is in my best interest to know things." Look, seriously, man, you're really starting to-" Tell me of Julie."Blake stopped, deflating. "Know about that, too, huh?" You loved her." Again, it was not a question.Blake couldn't help himself. He told the strange man everything. All about her. He didn't even know why he was doing. More

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