The shop’s owner nodded as Gregg peered into the dark piles of accumulated pottery, odd bits of furniture, old clothes and the occasional picture fr...me. Wedged under a small table was a round, pot bellied, ragged, wicker basket. Gregg pulled it out. He pulled the top open and peered inside. There was a dusty turban, a small bamboo musical pipe and a coil of rope.Perhaps, Gregg thought, some version of the Indian Rope Trick might convince Sam of his competence. ?How much for the basket?? he. .Five-Nights?” The landlord forced a smile. “Sorry sir, you have a very strong North East accent,” he confirmed, pointing a finger at his mouth which wasn’t really necessary. “Please accept my apologies,” he added, offering his outstretched hand in the way of introduction. Charles Henderson was probably only in his mid-fifties, but he had the look of a man who carried a further ten years on his back. In short strenuous gasps, intermittent grunts and breathless sighs, they climbed the stairs. More

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