I considered this for a moment. I could not believe that I would be ignored when bidding. I was a prestigious auctioneer, well-connected and good for the money. There was no reason to my mind why I would be refused.
“Very well.” I conceded. “But what’s in this for you?”
Sebastian Cavell leaned on the table, closer to the lantern light, closer to me. He did have remarkable hazel eyes. “The satisfaction of knowing I have outfoxed a scoundrel.” Sebastian grinned wolfishly. “And knowing you will not be disgraced.”
I was surprised by this statement. I did not know Sebastian Cavell and yet, if what he said was true he was showing me more care and consideration than many of my oldest acquaintances.
“I must admit I have watched you from afar for a very long time Benedict, and find you most fascinating.”
I shivered. I was sure I had not met this man before he took on the guise of John Edwards of Massachusetts.
“You appear younger than your years, with your lustrous black curls, and pale complexion.” Cavell reached out his hand to touch my hair and then seemed to think the better of it. He pulled his hand away.
“You are a most agreeable companion for conversation.” He continued. I was sure I was blushing; such was the heat rising to my cheeks.
“You are a humble, compassionate man and private of habits.” He said. “And I admire your discretion in all business. I would like us to be allies, Benedict, maybe even friends. I could be a very useful person to know!”
The intimacy of the spell Sebastian Cavell wove had pulled me in, closer to the lantern light and those dazzling eyes. His smooth cultured voice near hypnotized me and I felt my guard slipping. The wind buffeted the attic windows and they rattled violently as if the spirit of Lord Ardmillan were trying to regain access to his house. The sound released me from Cavell’s spell. I sat erect and told him straight.
“I do not know you and you do not know me. We are not, and never will be friends, or, I hasten to add, business partners,” I said cuttingly.
“Ah, Benedict”, Cavell sighed as he sat back in his chair.
“You will change your mind tomorrow!” He said softly. With that Sebastian Cavell stood, bowed respectfully, and on light feet, walked out of the room. It appeared the door was not locked after all.
I sat for several moments staring at the lantern light dancing in the frigid breeze. What if Cavell was right? What if I had been lured here to become a scapegoat for Euan’s scheme to rid himself of debt. I needed to think about this, but for now, I wanted to be back in my bed. I stood, picked up that lantern that Cavell had thoughtfully left for me, and returned to my chamber.
The Auction
Wednesday 22nd December 1897
After we had breakfasted I joined the thirteen art collectors in the Great Hall. The items for sale numbered forty and each was listed on a large blackboard that had once been housed on the wall in Euan’s old schoolroom. Mr. Buchanan, assisted by the butler, Mr. Rennie, displayed the fine art, jewelry, gold, statuary, ceramics, and ornaments one-by-one and as was customary, the group made bids until agreement on the price was reached.
I made bids on several rings, the bejeweled—and apparently counterfeit, Tiger head ornament from the throne of Tipu Sultan, the slain ruler of the Kingdom of Mysore, and I bid on an ancient Egyptian bronze statue of a cat representing the goddess Bastet. All went exactly as Sebastian Cavell had predicted. It was as if I was a ghost and Mr. Buchanan did not see or hear me. I tried raising my voice, much to my personal discomfort for I did not wish to be the center of attention. The public snubbing was most vexing and did not go unnoticed, but I avoided looking at Cavell…or Artur Engles as he had returned to using his disguise. I was unwilling to stand up and cause a scene for there was only one true prize here for me and The Staff of Asklepios had been removed from sale—a fact that gave me a little comfort. And so after the charade of the auction was done and I had not managed to purchase even a diamond tie pin, I decided it was time I had it out with Euan once and for all.
He had stood at the head of the room besides Mr. Buchanan and yet he refused to meet my eye at all throughout the vexatious auction. The collectors left the hall one-by-one to arrange with Mr. Buchanan for the payment of their purchases and shipment of any items too large to take with them when they departed. I caught Euan’s arm as he was about to escape upstairs.
“Lord Ardmillan, we need to have private words.” My voice sounded to stern and echoed in the hallway. I saw the concern etched on my old friend's face.
“Can it not wait until the guests have departed? I have arranged everything for this evening.” He wagged his brows playfully. However, I was not in a playful mood and this false facing did not give me a second of comfort.
“No, this matter cannot wait.”
“Oh,” he said disappointedly. I would not let him wriggle his way out of this.
“Fine, come to my bedchamber in ten minutes.”
“What the devil is going on?” Euan harrumphed as soon as he opened his bedroom door to me. He looked disheveled, his shirt hung loosely from his waistband and was unbuttoned displaying a thatch of silver chest
