In the charming place in which he found himself there were so many sympathetic faces that he felt more than ever convinced of the certainty of making himself heard. It was a bad blow, at first, to find that he had not been arrested for murder; but Yao, who had come to him at once, explained that he needed rest, and the time to “review” his statements; it appeared that reiteration had made them a little confused and contradictory. He needed to rest in his quiet Denizen apartment, surrounded by empty ghost flats.
“Feng what's the matter? What's this murder Edgecombe’s told me about? Good grief! What’s that anti-Masoist rant written in Tao's blood on the wall? Shake in you shoes bureaucrats! Stalinists denounced by the ultra-left indeed! No wonder Lenin branded left-wing communism an infantile disorder! My God, this whole building has such terrible feng shui! I wish I'd never bought an over-priced so-called luxury apartment in The Denizen.”