Whitechapel Hospital? Well, no. Very probably not. At least, I shouldn’t have thought so. This was the twentieth century, after all.
No, it seemed altogether more probable that Tom Bowler Esq. lay behind this bizarre enterprise. The Belsize Park premises were immediately raided but somehow the jolly mortician had avoided the Domestics and stolen away like a street-Arab in the night. I was sure I knew where to run him to earth and booked passage on the next departing vessel to Naples without waiting to hear whether Miracle had worked his charms on old Quibble. I would leave at once. Well, almost at once. There was still the little matter of Miracle’s summer ball. Business, of course, as I needed to confirm my appointment with Miracle, and perhaps a little pleasure.
My friend’s parties were something of a legend. In fact, Miracle’s gorgeous Belgravia house had been the scene of my poking of Avril Pugg the previous December. Christmas is a time for giving, after all. I found I was looking forward to this ball immensely. It would be a welcome distraction from the problem in hand but I would also be escorting the delectable Bella Pok and could impress her with statements of the «I fear I must away to the Continent this very night!» variety.
There had been no time for another drawing lesson but we had been in constant communication via letter and cable. I had broached the ball and she had been delighted to accept. Might I be permitted to call on her? No, she would prefer to call at Downing Street. Would eight o’clock suit?
I spent much of the late afternoon selecting a flower for my lapel. Joe Chamberlain had made orchid-growing awfully fashionable and the delicate purple flower I selected as a button-hole set off my pale complexion most appealingly. Not quite ready to admit I was still without a servant of any kind, I opened the door to Bella myself — a delirious vision in crimson — turned her round immediately and helped her back into the cab.
As we clattered along I could see how thrilled she was at the prospect of the party. Her eyes blazed and her expression was almost wild as she turned to me.
«Will I not be awfully out of place, Mr Box?»
I took her gloved hand. «My dear, you will outshine them all.»
«And Mr Miracle. What is he like? They say he’s very handsome.»
«No doubt they do. You’ll like him, I’m sure.»
Curiously, though, when we arrived at Miracle’s house, of our host there was no sign. Instead, the party seemed to be under the direction of Lady Constance Tutt-Haffenschafft, a friend of Miracle’s and quite the old hand at throwing a function like this.
Lady Constance — of Austrian stock and the widow of someone awfully grand in trans-Atlantic telegraphy — was one of London’s more unusual hostesses. She was a genuinely warm and congenial old soul who had survived the Tay Bridge disaster and, as a consequence, had developed a morbid fear of railway engines. To everyone’s eternal embarrassment, she was wont to impersonate steam trains at the most inopportune moments. It was like Miracle, who didn’t give a fig for convention, to take her under his wing when the rest of society had shunned her.
Glittering with jewels, Lady Constance barrelled towards us, swathed in taffeta. «Ach! How delightful to see you, Lucifer!» she gushed. «Do you know where young Miracle is hiding? He is not here!
«Lady Constance Tutt-Haffenschafft,» I said. «Miss Bella Pok.»
«Miss Pok! Enchanted. En—
Bella stepped back a little, blinking in surprise. Lady Constance gave a quick little smile. «You are in your choice of companion most fortunate, my dear Lucifer,» she enthused in her guttural croak.
«And I in mine,» said Bella, glancing in my direction.
I glowed with pleasure.
«I had no idea you would be accompanied,» said Lady C, teeth glinting. «Pok. An unusual name.
«Tonight, no. But I am Dutch by birth.»
«I trust you did not come to London by one of these steam trains?»
Bella shook her head. «No. By boat.»
«Thank God! The train is the devil’s play-thing! Even now I hear them!
Lady Constance pressed her hand to her forehead for a moment then exhaled as though steam were forcing its way out of her big nostrils. The moment, it seemed, had passed.
«Forgive me. Now do go off and get yourself a little drink. I’m afraid I must make free with Mr Box for a moment.»
I bowed to Bella and, with an amused smile, she plunged off into the ballroom, soon lost to sight amongst the miasma of silken gowns and black cut-aways.
«You are very naughty,» said Lady Constance, pinching my arm.
«I am?»
«You know very well that your being London’s most alluring bachelor is the principal reason why so many unattached young ladies come to Christopher’s parties.
She giggled and it ran like a tremor through her portly frame.
I patted the old sow’s hand indulgently. «I am still very much unattached, my dear Lady Constance and, besides, you know there is only one woman in the world for me.»
I gave her the kind of saucy look that would keep her enthralled for another twelvemonth. Eyelids fluttering bashfully, she batted her fan lightly against the silk-faced lapels of my suit. «Ach! You flatterer!
This was good news. I had painted her perhaps a dozen times, all for excellent remuneration. During our sittings, for some reason, the railway mania abated and she fell into glorious, blissful silence.
Looking towards the crowd in the ballroom, Lady Constance took my arm and began leading me in. «But you have done wonderfully, Lucifer. This girl Pok. She is like a flame. So beautiful!»
«I must concur with you there.»
«And you
The ballroom was hung about with paper lanterns and summer flowers. Chattering faces, reflected to the infinite by the huge quantity of gilt mirrors, looked out at me as I sauntered towards Bella. I stepped across the threshold and the old thrill lit up my innards. What did these blandly respectable folk know of me? Could they tell that beneath my crisp white gloves were fingernails that had so recently scrabbled in grave-dirt? Could they guess for even a moment that I was about to embark on a perilous mission that might save their very way of life? Of course not, but what did that matter? At that moment, the guilty pleasure that comes from leading a double life coursed through me like salts.
I caught sight of Bella once more.
She sat: a splendid curl of long scarlet silk, wrapped about with a stole of Arctic fox. An ugly young pup with unwashed hair hanging to his collar stood to her right, jabbering away.
She gave a little start as I appeared and clicked my heels.
«Bella,» I said.
The greasy fellow swung towards me with a questioning look.
«Do forgive me,» I said. «Lucifer Box. I have come to rescue my friend Miss Pok from your miserable attentions. Shall we, my dear?»
I extended the crook of my elbow. She took it and rose with a small smile, leaving her beau blustering in fury.
«You are rather a terrible person, Lucifer,» she said.
«You’re the second person to say that this evening.»
«And certain to have a bad end,» she added.
