He did his best to look dignified, which was an increasingly difficult thing to do while suspended upside-down by the tail of his coat from a rusty nail. Ruffano twisted like a fox on a spit, ears cocked askew, one paw dusting pointlessly at the hem of his waistcoat as if that might somehow undo...
Ruffano Quickwhistle pressed his back to the soot-streaked brick of the alley and held his breath. Two fogey officers, half-awake and mumbling about breakfast, trudged down the cobbles without so much as a glance toward the shattered window just above his head. He gave them a count of twelve...