Dr. Angus Bumby, having just returned from another tiresome social event, stood outside Houndsditch, taking a few minutes to admire his building, as he did every day.

The Houndsditch Home stood out as the only building as far as the eye could see that wasn't in a complete state of disrepair. Its mostly clean and unbroken windows reflected the sun's rays, and its fence was only mildly rusted. It looked like something a member of the lower middle class wouldn't be ashamed to live in, unlike the ramshackle constructs that surrounded it. The only glaring flaw was that the sign outside, which announced the establishment's name and proprietor, didn't have a dot after the "Dr". Regardless, it was, as Bumby often liked to remind his colleagues, the first step in the gentrification of the East End. His colleagues probably would have approved of this first step less if they knew that it had been bought with the money he had made turning his charges into mindless sex slaves and selling them, but they didn't, nor would they ever.

Once he had finished admiring the house, Bumby stepped inside, and discovered, to his considerable surprise, that two burly men were in the house's common area, entertaining his children with fishing stories.

The two men, most likely fishermen by trade, were dressed in what was presumably their Sunday best, which probably would have stalled their expulsion from the event Bumby had just attended by no more than five seconds.

Dr. Bumby cleared his throat, alerting the two fishermen to his presence.

"Day, Mr. Bumby," the taller of the two said as they turned to face him and took off their caps. His shameful accent betrayed his extremely low class.

The shorter of the two fishermen elbowed him in his arm.

"Wut? Oh, right, Dr. Bumby, that is," the taller corrected.

"Go upstairs, children," Bumby instructed his charges as he eyed his guests.

"Hey, why do they all have numbers on them?" the shorter fisherman asked.

"Some of my children do not have names," the doctor replied. "To not make them feel picked on, I make all my children wear numbers. Now, who are you and why are you here?"

"Well, er, I'm Bob, eh, I mean, I'm Robert Noble," the taller man, who apparently had been made the group's spokesman, replied, "and this here's Edward Rare."

"Day, sir," the shorter man said.

"Right, and we're here to provide information regardin' your missing bird, er, that is to say, girl."

"Oh?" Bumby replied, slightly surprised. He hadn't heard anything for a while and had resigned himself to the worst.

"Yes, sir, that we are," Noble replied, nervously fiddling with his hat.

"Well, go on."

"Right. Well, me and Ed was fishing near Billingsgate at night two days ago, when suddenly I spy me a woman floating in the river. We row over as quick as we can and pull her out and into our boat, me and Ed, and figure out right quick that she's still alive. Now, at the time we thought she was a, ah… Well, you know. A certain kind of woman."

"Not that she looked like one, mind," Rare quickly interjected.

"Right, right, she didn't look like one at all," Noble agreed.

"It's just usually when a woman is drowning in the Thames, she's a certain kind of woman who's had a few too many, you know?" Rare explained.

"Just as he said. So, we bring her to shore, me thinking she'll be real grateful to us, you know?"

"Not that we wouldn't have saved her if we hadn't thought that."

"Right, it's just that's what we did think then. So we bring her to back to the docks and I attempt to… Ah…"

"Solicit," Rare helpfully suggested.

"Right, I attempted to solicit her, but she weren't interested, and, us not wanting to press the issue, decided to leave it at that, and then she left."

"…And?" Bumby asked.

"And, well, later we learned that that girl was Alice and we should go to you, as you was worried about her," Noble concluded.

Bumby smiled knowingly. "Is that really everything that happened?"

Noble blinked in confusion. "Uh, yeah. That's it."

"She rejected your advances, and you really just let her go?"

There was a pause, then Noble snarled and seized Bumby by his coat. "You trying to say somethin' about me, mate?" he roared.

"Easy, Bob," Rare quickly said, clearly more aware of propriety than his friend.

"You hear what this bloody git just suggested I am?" Noble barked back.

"My apologies, sir," Bumby calmly said as he tried to keep his terror from showing. "I didn't mean to question your character. I just was trying to learn all that I could about what happened. I'm afraid this city has made me begin to suspect the worst of all its inhabitants. I'm sorry that I unjustly accused you, and I am in fact overjoyed that you take such umbrage to even the implication that you would do such a vile act."

Noble glared at Bumby for a while, then grunted and let him go.

"Thank you," the doctor smiled as he smoothed out his coat. "Now, did you by any chance see where Alice went?"

"Well, she went into an ice warehouse, last we saw her," Rare replied.

"Could be she went to the Mermaid," Noble suggested.

"The what?" Bumby asked.

"The Mangled Mermaid," Rare explained. "It's a pub. Well, was a pub. Burnt down last night."

"Didn't hear nothing about any girls getting killed in the fire, though," Noble quickly assured. "Last I heard, only Long Tim, the pub's heavy, got it, and he was shanked."

"Then again, we don't hear much," Rare admitted.

"Hm. Well, I appreciate the information," Bumby said. "I'll give you ten pounds for your trouble," he continued as he pulled two five-pound notes out of his wallet.

"Thank you for yer kindness, sir," Rare said, bowing as he accepted his note.

"Yeah," Noble agreed as he received his note as well. "Sorry 'bout roughing you up earlier."

"A simple misunderstanding," Bumby assured. "Don't let it trouble you in the slightest."

"By the way, we noticed yer sign is missing a dot af–"

"I'm well aware," Bumby quickly interrupted.

"Well, I happen to have a friend wh–"

"I appreciate the sentiment, but the sign's fine as it is."

Noble shrugged and walked out of the Home with his friend by his side.

As soon as the two had left, the doctor let out a disappointed sigh. While it was somewhat reassuring that Alice was still alive and apparently semi-lucid, he would have liked to have gotten more information than where she had been two days ago. Still, he would bring this information to the police as soon as he got the chance. The quicker this was all finished, the fewer chivalrous fishermen would get the chance to throttle him.