Constable Moore's house was dimly lit and so full of old stuff that even 
Nell had to walk sideways in some places. Long strips of yellowed rice paper, 
splashed with large Chinese characters and pimpled with red chop marks, hung 
from a molding that ran around the living room a foot or two beneath the 
ceiling. Nell followed Rita around a corner into an even smaller, darker, and 
more crowded room, whose main decoration was a large painting of a furious chap 
with a Fu Manchu mustache, goatee, and tufts of whiskers sprouting in front of 
his ears and trailing down below his armpits, wearing elaborate armor and chain 
mail decorated with lion's faces. Nell stepped away from this fierce picture
despite herself, tripped over the drone of a large bagpipe splayed across the 
floor, and crashed into a large beaten-copper bucket of sorts, which made 
tremendous smashing noises. Blood welled quietly from a smooth cut on the ball 
of her thumb, and she realized that the bucket was being used as a repository 
for a collection of old rusty swords of various descriptions.