<div class="floatleft">(https://hymanltd.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/4068.jpg)</div><strong>MS. LINDGREN,</strong>you notice a familiar green Vauxhall roll to a stop on the street beside the public house.  In the driver's seat, there is a familiar young man.  It was<strong>LT. WALKER,</strong>nephew of the Professor and owner of said Vauxhall.<br/><br/>Though the Vauxhall was familiar, it also inspired dread.  You recalled now how madly the Professor drove that car, racing down streets and alleyways without regard for pedestrians or other traffic.  You remembered how the Professor always seemed to express his fondness for you when he drove you around town, feeling your thighs and bottom, trying to kiss you, as you struggled to get him to concentrate on his driving.  It was difficult to like the Professor at times, but you absolutely hated him when he drove.  The car reminded you of how much of a madman and a deviant the Professor could be.  It was easy to forget something like that.  The Professor could be so kind.  So selfless.  So brilliant.  It was easy to forget that he was just a man, like any other, whose lusts got the better of him time and time again.<br/><br/>Lt. Walker, however... well, seeing him also caused revulsion, but for another reason.  Lt. Walker reminded you of the war.  He reminded her of that time that you lost your mind.  He reminded you that you had been unwell.  And that thought made you feel unwell now.  You couldn't help it.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>LT. WALKER</strong>, it had become difficult to find employment after the war, but you found an uncommon employment as your uncle's agent.  He paid well and, in a way, your work protected your inheritance, as you stood to gain from his death a large sum: nearly 80,000 pounds per year.  It was difficult to like your uncle.  He could be so demanding at times, and the Christmas holidays had made him even more demanding still.<br/><br/>Your uncle was perpetually at work now, preparing for a presentation about... spirits.  You were disinclined to believe in spirits, but you had seen things throughout your time in Germany that had made you a believer.  You had seen men who were about to die glow with a bright radiance and you had spoken to men who were dead.  Or at least, you thought you did.  The only thing you knew absolutely was that life was impermanent, and everything else was up for discussion.<br/><br/>It was difficult to do as your uncle requested at times because he didn't really explain why he wanted things done.  He only expected them to be done in an efficient and expedient manner.  So when he told you to retrieve Dr. Brockman from Southampton by car, you didn't inquire as to why Dr. Brockman simply didn't take the train.  You didn't think to ask anything.  It was better that way.<br/><br/>You emerged from the Vauxhall, staring off towards the<em>Majestic.</em>You knew the ship well, though had never traveled to New York City yourself.  In the past, you have escorted numerous women aboard.  Women who were bound for New York City.  Women who needed help.  Women who needed to get away.  You sometimes wondered whatever became of those women.  You wondered if they ever got better.  You wondered if they were safe.  The memories of some of those women still haunted you.  They had been so pathetic.<br/><br/>The ship had already arrived, and you secretly hoped that you were not too late.  You could never tell when these ships would come or go really, as they were often running late.<br/><br/>Your attention was so affixed on the ship that you did not notice a woman watching you from inside a public house at a table near the window.  A beautiful tall woman with blonde hair.