[When the news comes, it is an inch of closely-crammed print reporting an Incident that took place the prior day. A gentleman (of Estimable Fortune) was strolling the back-streets of Seven Dials [EN: neither the editor of the publication nor the reporter question why so eminent a gentleman was frequenting the backstreets of an area notable for its proliferation of gaming hells, opium dens and prostitutes, a sad state of English journalism in the view of one woman] when he was set upon.
The ruffians, they were many, and they made away with his wallet and his watch - notable for the tooled silver back, and the initials engraved on the inside of the back-catch. A pretty piece, mother-of-pearl. That the gentleman was untouched save a minor headwound but indignant goes unquestioned also. A brief mention is made of his dalliance at an Establishment, but much to the ambivalence of the proprietor, no mention is made of where exactly he was. (All publicity, and that) That the watch turns up in a little shop off Covent Garden, notable for its casual approach to the provenance of the objects it sells, shortly thereafter, goes unreported.]