Da, da, da.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the narrow dark corridors, far away in silence, and there was no more noise.

Crane's back was straight, and he followed the middle-aged pastor forward without speed or slowness, without asking questions or chatting, as calm as a windless lake.

Passing through the well-guarded passageway, the middle-aged priest opened a secret door with a key and pointed down the stone staircase:

"To the left of the crossroads is Chanis Gate. ”

"May the Goddess bless you. Crane tapped four times on his chest, outlining the "shape" of the Crimson Moon.

The secular uses secular rituals, and religion uses religious rituals.

"Praise be to the Goddess. The middle-aged pastor replied with the same motion.

Crane said no more, and walked down the stone staircase, with the help of elegant gas lamps inlaid on the walls on both sides, step by step into the dark depths.

Halfway through, he subconsciously turned around, only to see the middle-aged priest still standing in the doorway, standing at the top of the stairs, standing in the shadow of the light of the gas lamp, like a wax figure that would not move.

Crane retracted his gaze and continued his descent downward, and it wasn't long before he touched the cold slate ground until he came to the crossroads.

He didn't turn in the direction of Chanis Gate, because Dunn Smith, who had just taken a shift, would certainly not be there.

Following the familiar path on the right, Crane re-ascended another staircase and appeared inside the "Black Thorn Security Company".

Seeing that the door was closed or ajar, he did not look for it recklessly, but entered the reception hall and saw a sweetly smiling brown-haired girl concentrating on reading a magazine.

"Hi, Roshan. Crane came to the side and deliberately tapped the table.

Bang dang!

Roshan stood up, knocked over the chair, and said hurriedly:

"Hey, it's nice weather today, you, you, Crane, why are you here?"

She put her hand on her chest and gasped twice, like a little girl who was afraid of being caught lazy by her father.

"I have something to ask the captain. Klein replied briefly.

“...... Scared the hell out of me, I thought the captain was out. Roshan glared at Klein, "I don't even know the knock!" Hmph, you should be glad I'm a generous, kind lady, well, I prefer the word girl...... What are you looking for the captain? He was in the room opposite Mrs. Oriana. ”

Even though his spirit was quite tense, Klein was amused by Roshan and smiled, and muttered:

"Secret. ”

"......" While Roshan's eyes widened in disbelief, Klein bowed slightly and quickly said goodbye.

He re-entered the partition door of the reception room and knocked on the door of the first office on his right.

"Please come in. Dunn Smith's deep, gentle voice spoke.

Klein pushed the door in, closed his backhand, took off his hat and saluted:

"Good morning, Mr. Captain. ”

"Good morning, what's the matter?" Dunn's black trench coat and hat were hanging on the coat rack next to him, revealing his body wearing only a white shirt and black vest, even if his hairline was high and his gray eyes were deep, he looked much more refreshed.

"Someone is stalking me. Klein replied truthfully, without any extra embellishment.

Dunn leaned back, clasped his hands together, and looked into Klein's eyes with deep gray eyes.

Instead of answering the topic, he asked:

"You came from church?"

"Yes. Klein replied in the affirmative.

Dunn nodded slightly, didn't say good or bad, and turned back to the topic:

"It may be that Welch's father didn't believe the cause of death we reported, and hired a private investigator from Windy City to investigate. ”

The city of Conston in Makai County, also known as the Windy City, is an area with an extremely developed coal and steel industry, ranking among the top three cities in the Kingdom of Rune.

Without waiting for Klein to comment, Dunn continued:

"It could also come from the source of that notebook, heh, where did we get the Antigonus family notebook in Chawelch, of course, it can't be ruled out that other individuals or organizations are chasing this notebook. ”

"What should I do?" Klein asked in a deep voice.

Undoubtedly, he wanted to be the first reason.

Dunn didn't answer immediately, picked up the coffee cup and took a sip, and said without a ripple in his gray eyes:

"Follow the previous path back and do whatever you want. ”

"Any?" Klein asked rhetorically.

"Whatever. Dunn nodded affirmatively, "Of course, don't scare the other person away, and don't break the law." ”

"Okay. Crane took a breath, took a breath, turned around, and left the room, back down to the basement.

He turned left at the intersection, basking in the glow of the gas lamps at the intervals, and walked quietly through the empty, dim and cold passageway.

The echoes of the dada are superimposed, the more lonely and the more frightened.

Soon, Crane approached the stairs, step by step, and saw the middle-aged priest standing in the shadows, standing in the doorway.

When the two met, neither spoke, and the middle-aged priest turned silently and moved out of the way.

Silently moving forward, Crane returned to the large prayer hall, the light and purity of the round holes behind the arched altar were still the same, the darkness and tranquility in the room were still there, and the gentlemen and ladies queuing outside the confession room were still the same, but there were many fewer of them.

After waiting for a while, Crane took his cane and newspaper and slowly left the Great Prayer Hall and the Church of St. Selena as if nothing had happened.

As soon as he went out and saw the scorching sun, he suddenly had a familiar sense of being watched, and he felt like a prey being targeted by an eagle.

Huo Ran, a suspicious point appeared in his mind:

Why didn't the "peep" follow me into the church before? Although in that case, I was still able to hide from him from "disappearing" for a short time with the help of the dark environment and the help of the pastor, but was it difficult for him to pretend to pray and follow the surveillance?

Unless he has a dark history, is afraid of the church, is afraid of the bishop, and knows that the other party may have extraordinary abilities......

In this way, the possibility of a private investigator is very low......

Klein exhaled, no longer as tense as before, and walked leisurely around Zotland Street in the back.

He stopped in front of an old, mottled building with the house number "3" and the name of the "Zotland Shooting Club".

The police department's underground shooting range is open to the "public" in part to earn additional funding.

As soon as Klein entered the room, the feeling of being spied on immediately disappeared, and he seized the opportunity to give the badge of the "Special Operations Department" to the waiter in charge of reception.

After a little verification, he was led underground to a small hermetically sealed shooting range.

"10m target. After a brief explanation to the waiter, Crane took the revolver from the pouch under his armpit and took out the box of brass-colored bullets from his coat pocket.

Suddenly being targeted by someone overcame his desire for self-preservation, and he couldn't wait to come over to practice marksmanship.

Syllable!

After the waiter left, he threw out the wheel and withdrew the silver demon hunting bullets one by one, then picked up the normal brass bullets and stuffed them into the nest one by one.

This time, he did not leave any room to prevent accidental fire, nor did he take off his dress jacket or top hat, but practiced in the most ordinary dress, after all, it was impossible to shout "Please stop, let me change into light clothes first" after encountering enemies and dangers.

Smack!

Crane closed the wheel and slid his thumb around.

Suddenly, he held the gun in both hands, raised it sharply, and aimed it at the target 10 meters away.

But he didn't rush to shoot, but seriously recalled the off-target experience of military training and common sense such as three points and one line, and recoil when shooting.

Whoa!

In the sound of clothes pulling, Klein practiced aiming over and over again, practicing holding postures, as serious as a child in the college entrance examination.

After repeating this many times, he retreated to the wall, sat down on a soft bench, set the revolver aside, massaged his arm, and rested for a while.

After a few minutes of reflection, Crane picked up the pistol with the wooden grip and copper-colored wheel, came to the firing position, made a standard pose, and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

His arm shook, his body leaned back slightly, and the bullet missed the target.

Bang! Bang!

Having learned from his experience, he shot shot after shot, groping for his feelings in practice until all six bullets were fired.

It's starting to hit the target...... Crane sat back and took two breaths.

He threw out the wheel, letting the six shells hit the ground on the spot, and then continued to shove the remaining brass-colored bullets one by one with the same expression.

The movement relaxed his lower arms, and Klein stood up again, returning to the shooting position as he summed up.

Bang! Bang!

The sound of the gun echoed, the target shook, Klein practiced again and again, rested again and again, and shot all the thirty normal bullets he received and the remaining five rounds before, gradually stabilized the target, and began to pursue the number of rings.

Shaking off his sore arm, he poured out the last five shells, lowered his head, and stuffed the intricate silver demon hunting bullets one after another, reserving the misfire position.

After the revolver was put into the pouch under his armpit, Klein patted the smoke and dust on his body, and walked out of the special shooting range and returned to the street with a sense of ease.

The feeling of being scrutinized was again revealed, but Crane's mood was calmer than before, and he walked slowly to the Rue de Champagne, and took a four-pence ride back to the Iron Cross in a horse-drawn carriage, and entered his apartment.

Silent as he pulled out his key and opened the door, he saw a man in his thirties, dressed in a linen shirt and with very short hair, sitting at his desk.

His heart tightened, and he immediately relaxed, and Klein greeted with a smile:

"Good morning, no, good noon, Benson. ”

This man is none other than his and Melissa's older brother, Benson Moretti, who is only 25 years old this year, and looks almost 30 because of his receding hairline and old face.

He had black hair and brown eyes, and he had a slight resemblance to Crane, but he didn't have that faint bookish air.

"Good afternoon, Crane, how was the interview?" Benson stood up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

His black coat and top hat hung from the bulges of the bunk bed.

"Very poor. Crane replied expressionlessly.

Seeing that Benson was stunned, Klein chuckled and added:

"Actually, I didn't show up for the interview at all, I got a job early and got a salary of £3 a week......"

He repeated what he had said to Melissa again.

Benson's expression softened, and he shook his head and smiled:

"It's like seeing a child grow up...... Well, the job isn't bad. ”

He sighed and said:

"It's nice to hear such good news when you come back, we have to celebrate tonight and buy some beef?"

Klein laughed:

"Okay, but I think Melissa will be distressed. Afternoon we went shopping together, bringing at least 3 sules? Uh, honestly, 1 pound for 20 sullers, 1 suller for 12pence, and halfpence, a quarter pence, it's counterintuitive, it's very cumbersome, I think it must be one of the stupidest coins in the world. ”

After saying that, he saw that Bensen's expression suddenly became serious, and he suddenly felt a little worried, wondering if he had said the wrong thing.

Could it be that among the missing fragments of memory of the original owner, Benson is a pure, extreme supporter of the kingdom, and no one can tolerate a little denial?

Benson paced a few steps and retorted with a serious face:

"No, not one. ”

There is no one...... Klein was stunned, but quickly reacted, looking at his brother and smiling.

Sure enough, it's the sarcastic humor that Benson is good at.

The corners of Benson's mouth turned up, and he added solemnly:

"You should understand that a prerequisite for formulating a reasonable and simple currency system is to know how to count and master the decimal system, but unfortunately, among those big people, such talents are too rare. ”