The constables now stand at the opening of Pulpit Alley. For the last several minutes, the sun has been peeking out from behind the steel-gray clouds, and now it's lower edge dips beyond the horizon. You estimate that, at most, 20 minutes of light remain. The few clouds directly overhead now begin to release a few sparse flakes of snow upon you. From somewhere down Pulpit Alley you hear the rattle of a rubbish bin, and was that also a groaning sigh?