"Half of London, or so it seems." He told her with a shrug, as if to say It almost ruined my reputation, but do I care? No, because I know it's all a load of horse shite. "There was a gent come to the Theatre looking for you. Tall, posh looking, nose as ugly as sin." He said, with a swallow from his glass. "Demanded to know why I'd killed you, wouldn't believe I hadn't. I had to show him that letter to make him calm down." He paused, speaking a little more softly now. "He took some of the stuff you left. Said he'd look after it for you." Some of her stuff. The stuff he hadn't chucked into the river in a fit of rage.