“You’d better becareful.”I glanced at him. “Why?”He smiled again, and rolled the tennis ball he washolding from one hand...to the other. “Haven’t you heardabout the legend?”I hesitated. I didn’t really want to become involved ina conversation with him, but I had to admit he’d piquedmy curiosity. Eventually, I gave in. “What legend?”He grinned. “Just a story they tell round here. They saythere’s a wolf that lives. Leaving the library, he strolled through the corridors of his house. Looking out the window of the landing to the street below, he watched as tousled curls on long, lithe legs hurried down the steps to the waiting cab, a slight smile curling his lips as the horses moved off. Continuing his wanderings, he found himself outside the boy's room. The young maid was inside, changing the bedlinen, and as he entered she curtsied and said hastily, "My apologies, Master Camorra sir; I'll come and finish. More

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