London, Westminster, a restaurant next to Trafalgar Square.
In the farthest corner of the restaurant, four men dressed in long black coats and wearing wide-brimmed hats were seated.
If it had been a few months earlier, their grave and deep outfits would have undoubtedly drawn the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant.
But now, during the cholera period when everyone was wrapped up tightly, even willing to wear various strange-shaped respirators or other bulky protective gear, a heavy black coat really didn't seem so unusual.
A haggard-looking Mr. Bernie Harrison glanced at the several high-ranking officials from Scotland Yard sitting in front of him and managed to force a weak smile. He passed the menu across the table and started speaking.
"Gentlemen, order whatever you want, today's meal is on me."
