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P ENDERGAST WAITED WITH B LOOM on the seat of the large wagon, parked on Broadway across Longacre Square from Smee’s Alley. A winter wind blew across the empty intersection, bringing with it the smell of coal smoke and horse manure. The gas lanterns cast pools of yellow light at regular intervals in the sea of darkness.

Held out in Pendergast’s hand was a gold pocket watch, which both men examined closely. At one minute to nine precisely, Bloom nodded at Pendergast. A moment later a muffled explosion came from across the street, followed by the sound of collapsing brickwork. A great cloud of dust issued from the mouth of Smee’s Alley.

Pendergast turned to his companion. “Mr. Bloom, if you are as good at construction as you are at demolition, I shall be the first to cross the Brooklyn Bridge upon its completion.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, would you be so kind as to block the alleyway?”

Bloom urged the horses across the square and stopped directly before the alley, the horse prancing nervously as dust from the explosion billowed around them. The air, full of pulverized brick, slowly cleared—revealing that a portion of an empty tenement’s outer wall had collapsed into the alley, bricks strewn about.

On cue, the nine sandhogs converged on the scene, as if drawn by the noise.

“Gentlemen!” Pendergast called out. “You’ve come just in time. There’s been an accident—a wall of this tenement has collapsed, as you can see. Shoddy construction, naturally—unfortunate, but hardly uncommon. I want this alleyway permanently blocked off. In the wagon you will find all the tools and materials needed to erect scaffolding, shore up the walls, and begin repairs. We have no time to lose! Mr. Bloom, please see to it that the work is done correctly.”

“Yes, sir,” Bloom said, hopping off the wagon and crying out orders to the men. The sandhogs immediately began unloading. Pendergast also alighted to watch the process, drawing his greatcoat around his narrow frame.

Within ten minutes there came the sound of horns and motors, and then a firewagon arrived: pulled by four stout horses, uniformed men hanging off the sides. They came to a halt and leapt off, bell clanging.

“Over here, fellows!” Pendergast cried, approaching and waving his badge. “Alphonse Billington, at your service. I commend you on responding so promptly. I happened to be passing, and it was my great luck to enlist the workers that you see here to put things temporarily aright. Nothing to worry about—the collapse of a wall of an alley tenement. I have inspected, and there’s no fire or further danger of instability, thank the Lord.”

“All the same, we’d like to take a look, sir,” said the fire chief.

“I’d be relieved if you would.” Pendergast led the man around the wagon and halfway down the alley, where a five-by-ten-foot hole could be seen in the tenement wall, the bricks spilling into the street. The sandhogs were already bracing the ragged opening with timbers and jacks.

The chief peered inside the hole for a few moments, then nodded. “Very good, sir.”

From the corner of his eye, Pendergast saw Hockelmann burst from the wooden gate at the end of the cul-de-sac and come charging up on stumpy legs, evidently drunk on his own wares.

“What’s this?” he cried. Then he spotted Pendergast. “Damn your eyes, man, you’re behind all this devilment!” he huffed as he approached.

“You’re drunk, for one thing, and talking rubbish for a second.” Pendergast took a step back and viewed him disdainfully. “Did I not tell you the wall was shoddy and prone to collapse?”

“That is all part of your japery somehow, you—you—mountebank!”

“Mountebank, is it?” Pendergast assumed an offended expression. “Perhaps we should inspect more tenements of yours, Mr. Hockelmann, now that we have an excellent team here to look for fire violations… as well as the other signs of neglect by an irresponsible landlord.” He glanced at the fire chief, who stepped up beside him.

This pulled Hockelmann up short. “ More inspections? Haven’t you done enough?”

“Enough? I should say not! Here we have proof of dangerous, substandard construction. In fact, given your unwarranted resistance and insulting behavior, we should inspect all these buildings!”

Hockelmann swallowed, looked from Pendergast to the fire chief and back again, and then rearranged his facial features with considerable effort. “My sincere apologies, sir. I didn’t mean to cast aspersions—”

Pendergast raised a hand to stop this flow of words. “I possess a tough hide, sir; I’ve had more than my share of landlords climb out of their beds to insult my person. Perhaps we needn’t inspect them all… at this time of night. But due to the dangerous conditions in the alley, we’re going to have to temporarily padlock this gate to prevent any ingress or egress. You shall be obliged to make do with your main entrance on Forty-First Street.”

Hockelmann, face once again growing dark with fury, retreated back down the alley, slamming the wooden gate behind him.

Pendergast turned to the fire chief. “Thank you for the swift response,” Pendergast told him, shaking the man’s hand firmly. “I shall be sure to take special note of your efficiency in my report.”

“Much appreciated, sir.” The fire chief climbed back aboard his conveyance, then yelled to his men, and—with greatly diminished clamor—the wagon began making its way down Seventh Avenue.