 Time's up, I'm afraid. Miss Haydock, come back here. Miss Haydock, Mr. H, whatever your name is. Constable, stop them. I'll do my best, sir. The fog hit us before we'd run 20 feet. We dodged around corners, then stopped at a garage and looked up Mr. Smith Travers' address in a directory. It proved to be a little villa like a dozen others I'd seen that day.