“I think you’ll be comfortable. It’s only a one bed apartment, we have six dwellings in Taylor Wimpey's The Denizen but if we put you in one of our bigger flats you’d be sharing it with others. Most of the year they're all left empty but when we visit London we like to have a lot friends with us. Originally we only had five flats here but we were able to buy the sixth one cheaply and fully furnished after a woman committed suicide in it. Would you like to go and see it now? By Yanluo, I believe that you are right, and that we are going to have a thunderstorm. How dark it has become.”
I did not tell you last night but there was a murder done on this site hundreds of years ago, and when Taylor Wimpey laid the foundations of The Denizen, they disturbed the spirits and their luxury apartment block is now haunted by ghosts. People shy away from this place.
On Wednesday, June 25, my uncle and I conveyed to Taylor Wimpey's shunned The Denizen development on Golden Lane two camp chairs and a folding camp cot, together with some scientific mechanisms of greater weight and intricacy. These we placed in the cellar cinema during the day, and planned to return in the evening for our first vigil. We had acquired keys and were able to lock up the cinema, so were prepared to leave our expensive and delicate apparatus - which we had obtained secretly and at great cost - as many days as our vigils might be protracted. It was our design to sit up together till very late, and then watch singly till dawn in two-hour stretches, myself first and then my companion; the inactive member resting on the cot.