text: > Look around
  You know what? It's cold in here. The wind blows right in through the smashed balcony DOORS, rippling the fur of the room's shaggy RUG and tugging on the torn sheets of the four-poster BED.
  
  There's a mangled CORPSE on the bed - the whole reason we're here, of course. And the walls are lined with all sorts of TROPHIES and stuff from around the Arctic and Antarctic.
  
  Among the clutter is a writing DESK.
  
  The bottom drawer contains a YELLOW letter. The top drawer contains a BLUE letter.
  
  A little FISH watches us from inside its castle.
  
  NATE stands an arm's length away, leaning on his cane.
  
  > Notebook
  I flip open my notebook. So far, I've made the following notes:
  
  -(A doodle of Walker.)
  -The pedals of a motor car go: clutch, brake, accelerator, from left to right.
  -Something made lots of dents in the rug.
  -There are circular blotches on the victim's limbs.
  -Nate thinks the fish is frightened.
  
  > leave
  I check my hat's properly in place and make for the door, dragging Nate behind me.
  
  "No entry," the doorman says. "Members only. And you're not even a gentleman."
  
  Ivy waves her papers in his face. "Police. We can go where we like."
  
  "That's not strictly true," I whisper.
  
  Tobacco SMOKE hangs in the air like a mist of filth. I've been in opium dens with more pleasant air, although they admittedly lacked the fine mahogany FURNITURE of this place.
  
  IVY is by my side, elfin and mischievous.
  
  Rupert WETHERBY sits staring at us. "You're both police officers?
  The world's really gone to pot."
  
  > Ivy
  I glance over at Ivy. I see a young woman, about the same age and height as me, slender, athletic, elfin. Her hair is cut into a short bob and her features are untouched by rouge.
  
  Ivy is carrying a NOTEBOOK, a YELLOW letter, and a BLUE letter, and she's wearing a long JACKET, a short DRESS, and a CLOCHE hat.
  
  "Mr Wetherby," Ivy begins uncertainly, "we were wondering about these two letters."
  
  He waves them away. "Not related to Saul's death, I assure you. I understand you must investigate, but some things are better left unknown."
  
  > Dress
  A simple and short dress, unlikely to get in the way - especially since it barely covers her KNEES.
  
  "Okay," Ivy whispers to me, "I'll be bad cop. You just DEFEND him, APPEAL to his better nature, OFFER leniency, that sort of thing."
  
  "Bad cop?" I repeat stupidly, although the term certainly fits.
  
  > Knees
  Ivy's bare legs are slender, pale, eminently distracting...
  
  She looks in my direction and I glance quickly away.
  
  Ivy rolls up her sleeves and swaggers over to Wetherby. "Is there something about this 'you know who' that you'd prefer to hide from the law?"
  
  Wetherby seems unimpressed by her display. "I assure you that this matter, while I might prefer to keep it secret, is not related to his murder."
  
  Should I DEFEND Rupert, APPEAL to his better nature, or OFFER leniency?
  
  > Appeal
  "Mr Wetherby," I say, "please. The murderer must be caught before he or she kills again."
  
  He shakes his head. "I'll say it again. These letters will not lead you to the murderer."
  
  "So you're protecting the victim," Ivy says. "How noble. Or perhaps... you're actually protecting yourself. If Hawthorne had paid this person off, maybe you'd have profited?"
  
  Wetherby glares at her.
  
  Should I DEFEND Rupert, APPEAL to his better nature, or OFFER leniency?
  
  > Offer
  "If you help us, I'm sure the courts will be lenient." I suggest.
  
  "I'm no accomplice to whoever killed my dearest friend," Wetherby spits.
  
  Ivy idly digs her heel into the expensive carpet. "Even if you're not involved in the murder, I bet you were stabbing Hawthorne in the back in some way or another. I mean, what are you so afraid we'll find out?"
  
  Should I DEFEND Rupert, APPEAL to his better nature, or OFFER leniency?
  
  > defend
  "I'm sure he's not afraid of anything," I say. "It may well be perfectly innocent."
  
  Ivy grins. "Well, we'll find out eventually, with or without his co-operation."
  
  "I suppose you might as well hear it from me," Wetherby says. "Look, Saul was no coward. We faced real dangers on our expedition to the North Pole. That polar bear... I'd be dead if not for Saul. But Saul liked his creature comforts. When we met that bo's'n on the icebreaker, saw his remarkable likeness - well..."
  
  He looks at me suddenly. "Will this go any further than you two?"
  
  Should I DEFEND Rupert, APPEAL to his better nature, or OFFER leniency?
  
  > Offer
  "Unless it becomes absolutely necessary to divulge this to convict his murderer," I say, "you have our confidence."
  
  Wetherby smiles at me. "Thank you. I suppose that's as it must be. And yes, I suspect, despite what I said earlier, that this is related to his death."
  
  Ivy sighs. "Well, spit it out already!"
  
  "Saul never went to the Antarctic Crater," Wetherby says. "He hasn't even left Oldchester in years."
  
  Should I DEFEND Rupert, APPEAL to his better nature, or OFFER leniency?
  
  > Appeal
  "Once you've shared this with us," I say, "I'm sure it will be a weight from your shoulders."
  
  "I went to Antarctica with a man by the name of Nigel Davenport," Wetherby explains. "In the photographs he looked enough like Saul, especially with a little doctoring of the negatives. He knew the land, but he was no scientist or gentleman, and he started to become quite the braggart. You have to understand: a land that to others was only death, could to him be something closer to a home..."
  
  Ivy gasps. "You left him there, didn't you?"
  
  Wetherby stares at the carpet. "How he could possibly have returned, I do not know. But his aim now seems clear enough to me."
  
  Should I DEFEND Rupert, APPEAL to his better nature, or OFFER leniency?
  
  > Offer
  I touch Wetherby's shoulder. "I'll see that a constable is assigned to protect you, but we shall have apprehended this man shortly."
  
  Wetherby seems reassured. "Thank you."
  
  I check that my hat is on my head. "Now, where might we find this Davenport?"
  
  "I don't know," Wetherby says. "But I suspect that it will be nowhere civilised. He was Saul's mirror opposite in many ways, and he loathed even the least luxury."
  
  I find myself smiling. "I know just where to find him. Ivy, we'll LEAVE for there immediately."
  
  > Jacket
  Ivy's jacket is creased and battered, the fabric softened by years of wear.
  
  "But what about the squid?" Ivy demands. "And what are you hiding under that eye patch? Cuff him. Let's take him down to the station and-"
  
  I cover her mouth with my hand. "I think that's quite enough from 'bad cop', thank you."
  
  Ivy says, "Mmm-hhmf."
  
  > Cloche
  Ivy's wearing one of those strange little bell-shaped hats that are starting to creep into fashion. It looks rather adorable crowning her elfin features.
  
  Wetherby squints at Ivy. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
  
  Ivy pulls on my arm. "I doubt it. Well, off we go..."
  
  > Wetherby
  A craggy, ageless man in an EYEPATCH. Several of his FINGERS are missing.
  
  Wetherby seems to arrive at a sudden realisation. "Silhouette! I own the carpet factory you broke into. You tampered with the machines... Those obscene patterns! An entire batch had to be burned!"
  
  Ivy shrugs nervously. "I s'pose those are the dangers of too much automation."
  
  > EYEPATCH
  A smart leather patch covers Wetherby's left eye.
  
  "I need a stout drink," Wetherby murmurs. He stands, bows reluctantly to Ivy and walks away.
  
  > Smoke
  Yeuch. The place could be burning down, and no-one would notice.
  
  "By the way," Ivy says, "You make a pretty bad 'good cop'. I respect that."
  
  "I was a good enough cop to get you out of Mindflower, Ivy."
  
  She shakes her head. "That's not 'good cop' at all. You're bad cop through and through. We'll try it the other way 'round next time."
  
  Next time!