So that evening the three men went in a coach to the Broomilaw together.

A boat and two watermen were in waiting at the bridge-stair, and though the evening was wet and chilly they all embarked.

No one spoke.

The black waters washed and heaved beneath them, the myriad lights shone vaguely through the clammy mist and steady drizzle, and the roar of the city blended with the stroke of the oars and the patter of the rain.

Only when they lay under the hull of a large ship was the silence broken.