The three days had been up.  John had wandered this strange London that was so much like what he remembered, but equally foreign to him.  He didn't like feeling like a stranger in what he would have normally considered his own home.  He didn't like how limited he was, confined to such a small area of London.  It would have been best if he could ( Read more... )

It was the smell that first got through to him.  Phnom Penh, especially the slums, had a very distinct smell to them.  As did Victorian London.  John Druitt was familiar with both of those smells, and even through his drugged haze, he realized that something was different ( Read more... )