Plaisir un peu pervers et en tout cas rafraîchissant de lire par ce début de chaleur un vieux polar empli du brouillard londonien d’antan…

A bus crept by, a ghost bus, a-glimmer with eerie lights, with more lights making pin-points in the leaden dark where a line of lesser vehicles crawled in its broad wake. (…) They drove on in silence, the little car stealing through the muffled murmur of the fog-blanketed city like a marauding cat — creeping along on its belly, grey body melting into the grey, only its two bright eyes round and agleam in the night. (Christianna Brand, London Particular, 1952)