Chapter 8

The offices of Forrester & Lindley were in a narrow, old-fashioned street not far from Lincoln’s Inn. As Roger hesitated by the door, a brace of bewigged barristers, pink-ribboned court briefs in hand, strode importantly past, no doubt on their way to the Law Courts on the Strand. Their gowns fluttered in their wake like the wings of a couple of great bats. One of them sported a particularly fine military moustache, which must have looked very dashing when he was in his khakis but was an unfortunate incongruity with his present attire.

Roger supposed he would become quite familiar with such sights, working here—or at least, he would if he could ever manage to set foot in the place. Time to stop procrastinating. Squaring his shoulders, Roger pushed open the door.