<div class="floatright">(http://i1221.photobucket.com/albums/dd468/sybakrys/Tyler/darcy.jpg)</div><strong>Tyler takes a trip.... to London</strong><br/><br/>It was not to take long, from the Winterstone house to his home in Ivinghoe, South East Buckinghamshire. He was tired and the horses knew that. Already he missed Lady Rowena and without her he was sure that he would slip back into his less savour ways.<br/><br/>(http://www.yha.org.uk/Images/Exford_tcm8-4030.jpg)<br/><br/>By the morning he was restless and demanded that Cooper take him to his favourite Opium Den in the East End of London. So with his recently cashed monthly allowance in his left jacket pocket, he walked briskly to his private coach and before he could say ride on, it was moving once again. Less then twelve hours after it had been parked.<br/><br/>Upon arrival, some time later, Cooper saw his companion leave the coach, he sighed as he took in the area. He had parked in a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves which line the north side of the river. He had parked by a steep flight of steps, between a slop-shop and a gin-shop. As Tyler, went out of view as he walked down said stairs Cooper lent back in his chair and slowly fell asleep.<br/><br/>Tyler continued to walk down the stairs, worn hollow in the centre until he found the den of which he was searching. By the light of a flickering oil-lamp, he turned the latch and made his way into a long, low room, thick and heavy with the brown opium smoke. He could make out the wooden berths that lined the walls.<br/><br/>Through the gloom, he could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies laying in strange poses of which some would look upon him as he passed them. Out of the black shadows there glimmered little red circles of light as the burning poison waxed in the bowls of the metal pipes. The most lay silent and some muttered to themselves or others. At the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal, beside which on a three-legged wooden stool. There was where he wanted to go.<br/><br/>As he entered, an attendant hurried up with a pipe for him and a supply of the drug, beckoning him to the empty berth.<br/><br/>There was a movement and an exclamation from his right, and peering through the gloom, he saw nothing that he recognised. However, clearly they had recognised him.<br/><br/>At the attendance request, he continued to walk down the narrow passage between the double row of sleepers, breathing in the stupefying fumes.<br/><br/>As he passed the tall man who sat by the brazier he felt a sudden sensation that he was being watched. In fact he had felt this for some time. If he had reflected on this at all, he would have realised that this had been according since his arrival at the den. He turned to the man to enquire, but he sat now as absorbed as ever, very thin, very wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe dangling down from between his knees, as though it had dropped in sheer lassitude from his fingers. He took two steps forward and looked back, before finally taking his place in a berth. Thoughts of this man soon to be removed by the first inhale.<br/>