The mysterious sunglasses stared at the mysterious brassiere. It was hanging from a branch that dangled over the high walls of a cemetery where no one had ever been buried. The mysterious brassiere did not want to be mistaken for a mere bra. Had it not played some part in the duel with sabers in the deserted Chapel of the Holy Mystery? Had it not been used to gather two saving cups of rainwater by two shipwrecked sailors? Meanwhile, The Mysterious itself walked quietly away, leaving the mysterious brassiere and mysterious sunglasses behind. The Mysterious’ footprints were faint. But one was slightly deeper than the other, suggesting that it was limping, or had The Mysterious been injured in some way?