"It is not much of my business at all. I'm afraid that was rude of me," The Fugitive conceeded, forcing remorse to bubble through his voice, which then took on a slightly darker tone. "Though no more so than your conduct in our earlier meeting."

The shopkeeper bustled forward, prompting the Fugitive to turn his face away slightly. The man seemed ready to give the Doctor his order, then made an about-turn and went back to the stock. The Fugitive turned back and shrugged, taking a puff of his cigar and folding his arms. His curiosity about the Doctor's general demeanour was getting the better of him. "What sort of clockwork machinery would help in your profession?"