I ran towards the shrill whistle, following the sound
through the twisting streets. I passed a night watchman kneeling next to
someone, unmoving, but didn’t stop to take a closer look. When I caught up with
the whistleblower, he was struggling to move forward. Seeing me, he stopped and,
huffing, pointed down a narrow street that broke off from the one we were on. I
hurtled myself in the indicated direction. For several moments, I saw nothing
and was about to give up when I saw the flutter of a cape in light of one of
the rare gas lamps.
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