I had changed my modus operandi. No more aimless wandering. Instead I would pick out a street that was on my map and go to it, to some house or place with which I was familiar, visiting only places that were no t too mysterious. My mission was simply to collect information and to map it. As for the murderer, I wasn’t half as worried as I had been — the advantage of being a superhero. If I saw him, I would take appropriate action. In the back of my mind was the idea that eventually I would find Dad and see if he was all right. As well as making maps, the Cartographer was in the business of helping people. And just to be on the safe side I swore on a skull to fulfil my mission, as the Phantom had done before me. Actually, I swore on a cat’s skull I’d found (no, not Abbotsford’s). It was small, but it did the job. I set out at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning using the map to guide me down a route that had led to me becoming the Cartographer, to the gate in Kipling Lane. I went back not looking for trouble — when had I?
