Shortly after eleven o'clock that evening St John Derby, the editor of the Samuel Pepys column of the DAILY GLOBE, had lurched into his office, poured himself a drink and rung the nightwatchman for a cab. When Albert came up to tell him that the taxi was downstairs, he found the reveller slumped across the blotter. He attempted to shake St John into motion. But St John Derby was not just drunk. He was, of course, extremely dead...