"Of course there's some truth to all of those tales, isn't there, Miss Swift?"

Tamara nodded slowly. "Yes, Dr. Nichols. Yes, there is."

In that moment it was as though the afternoon shadows quickened their rush towards evening. The room darkened. Tamara narrowed her eyes and studied Dr. Nichols more closely. The man hung his head for several seconds and when he looked up it was with such relief in his features that Tamara wanted to weep for him.

"For those of us who still believe in such things, whispers go around. New stories arise. When something as terrible as what happened earlier this year in London takes place there are still so many who will deny it, who will try to invent other explanations for the death, for the horror, for what people have seen with their own eyes. Most will accept these inventions because they do not want to believe the truth.