Like time, the River Thames flows through London Town in one direction, the water willing to swallow most anything. Items lost to the river's churn lay exposed on the foreshore at a later date, perhaps centuries hence. Most of the items have some value. Mudlarks collect them to sell. Yet the river's power to resurrect the commonplace, the fascinating, and the priceless, also extends to things much less desirable. In THE WITCH OF WAPPING, the river's cycle of burial and revival preserves and then brings back a malevolence meant to remain dead and buried-something with a mean bite.