A scant three stairs separated the front door from the ground. Next to the white double doors an iron plaque read Westchester Asylum, Saltaire followed by an inscrption: True silence is the rest of the mind, and is to the spirit what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment.

Max read it twice. He decided that he agreed with the sentiment in theory but found the heavy silence around him to be stiflingly oppressive. Checking his pocket watch, he noted the time as a little after nine, before putting it away and rapping on the door.

“Dinnae fash yersel.” A woman called from the other side of the door. Moments later a red haired woman answered the door. “Visiting hours be over.”

Max forced a smile. “Pardon me for this late intrusion but my name is Max Eisenhardt and I have an urgent need to speak to whoever is in charge.”

The woman looked at him suspiciously but grudingly gave up her name. “I be Moira Kinross and the good doctor has retired for the evening.”

“Can you disturb him? It’s important.”