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           Themantookthecardinhisstreet-blackenedhands,lookedatit,turneditover,andsaid,flatly,"Thanksabunch.Thatandsixtypence’llgetmeanicecupofcoffee."HegaveRichardhiscardback,andbegantowalkdownthestreet.

           Richardpickeduphisbag.Thenhewentafterthemanandsaid,"Hey.Hangon.Youcanseeme."

           "Nothingwrongwithmyeyes,"saidtheman.

           "Listen,"saidRichard,"haveyoueverheardofaplacecalled‘TheFloatingMarket’?Ineedtogetthere.There’sagirlcalledDoor..."Butthemanhadbegun,nervously,tobackawayfromRichard."Look,Ireallyneedhelp,"saidRichard."Please?"

           Themanstaredathim,withoutpity.Richardsighed."Okay,"hesaid."I’msorryItroubledyou."Heturnedaway,and,clenchingthehandleofhisbaginbothhandssothattheyhardlyshookatall,hebegantowalkdowntheHighStreet.

           "Oy,"hissedtheman.Richardlookedbackathim.Hewasbeckoning."Comeon,downhere,quicklyman."Themanhurrieddownsomestepsonthederelicthousesatthesideoftheroad—garbage-strewnsteps,leadingdowntoabandonedbasementapartments.Richardstumbledafterhim.Atthebottomofthestepswasadoor,whichthemanpushedopen.HewaitedforRichardtogothrough,andshutthedoorbehindthem.Throughthedoor,theywereindarkness.