Sharp-Edged

But the neighbourhood still held treasures for the curious – short, crooked thoroughfares and alleys that hid cobbled yards, decrepit workshops and sombre warehouses. Rue de Candie was one such street, and number eight no more than a wooden portal bearing the names of long-vanished joiners and upholsters, rusted permanently open. Franck stepped through into a narrow courtyard some twenty metres deep with narrow two-tiered workshops crammed together on either side.