“Goodness Benedict. You have no idea what you do to me when you speak so passionately about antiques!” I grinned, my eyes holding Sebastian’s gaze.
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed for midnight, and the mantle clock followed a second behind, but even though it was late I could not go to bed, not yet.
“Something happened to me tonight when the candle lights were extinguished.”
Sebastian sat forward. I passed the watch back to him and he secured it in his jacket pocket.
“As you know there was quite a kerfuffle with ladies screaming and attempting to find the door. Well, someone purposely knocked me down to sit back in my seat. I did not realize until the electric lights went on, but whoever it was used sleight of hand, removed my kerchief from my inner breast pocket, and replaced it with this—”
I opened my jacket and threaded my fingers into the pocket to retrieve the square letter. Sebastian’s brows rose when I unfurled my fingers and he saw the stamp impressed to the back of the cream paper.
“What are you waiting for? Open it, man!” Sebastian stood and then knelt at my feet. I broke the wax seal, stamped with FS, unfolded the crisp paper and together we read the spidery black handwriting:
You are chosen
Come to 11 Adam Street at 9 p.m.
06-01-1898.
-Fratres Seminis-
“What does that mean? Fratres Seminis?” I asked.
“I believe it means Brothers of the Seed.” Silence fell between us as that phrase sank in.
“Who the devil are the Brothers of the Seed? And, come to think of it, what do they want with me?”
“Do you have paper and a pencil handy?”
“I do, in my study”,
“Retrieve them for me please.”
I stood and hurriedly unlocked the drawing room door. The hall outside was frigidly cold and the house silent as my servants were now abed. I rushed to my study and picked up a sheaf of writing paper and a graphite pencil then returned to Sebastian.
My companion had moved a side table to sit between our hearth chairs. I gave him what he had requested and settled in my chair once more. Sebastian then began to jot down notes.
“Okay, I believe we are dealing with some sort of secret cabal. Who do we think is a part of this scheme? And what are their aims?”
“Lawrence Blake for a start. He wears a signet ring that has this exact monogram on it.” I said gesturing to the letter, “And he has a red book”. I reminded, “Also he parroted that strange expression when leaving my office—Bless-ed is the seed”,
“If I recall correctly, that Tory, Benjamin Cavendish said that too?” Cavell reminded.
“Indeed, at the club…so, they must be in cahoots for whatever this business is.” Cavell scrawled the second name onto the list.
“Both of those men were seen with Lord Spencer and young Baron Leopold Von Liebenstein.”
“Add them to a separate column of possible cohorts.”
“I think I’ll add Leo to the list actually. He received a letter with the stamp, and it is no coincidence that he is socializing with Blake and Cavendish.”
“Very well,” I agreed.
“Now. Tell me everything that happened when Blake made a visit to your office.”
“There’s not much to tell really. Blake arrived at my establishment unexpectedly with several silver items that he said were donated after one of his lectures. He wanted me to auction them but I was rather surprised by one particular item, a Dutch spice box in silver, made in the shape of a fish. I purchased the items for my own collection to hurry things along.” I explained. “The man unnerved me.”
“Did anything strange happen?”
“The whole blasted visit was strange,” I said witheringly. “Oh, he gave me a copy of his damnable occult periodical… what’s it called again…yes, The Light.”
“He writes for The Light, now?”
“Yes. From the things he said to me…I did not like the fellow one bit, in fact, he gave me the creeps.”
“What specifically did he speak of?”
“His aim to penetrate the veil and return to tell what is on the other side—he a bloody resurrectionist, you know!” I blustered. I was quite surprised by the lack of response from Sebastian who sat as still as a stone and wore a faraway look in his eyes.
“You need to go to that meeting,” He said with sudden urgency.
“But I don’t want to go. I don’t want anything to do with this business.”
“What if they have the boy, what if they are mistreating him?” Cavell knew how to twist the knife.
“You could speak with him, help him”, Cavell urged. Damn it, he was right. If Leopold was held against his will maybe I could help him.
“Very well.” I conceded, “I will attend this rendezvous at number eleven Adam Street?”
The Growler
Cavell slept in a guest room. Much as I wanted him in my bed I could not let lust cloud my judgment. Also, I would not risk any suspicious talk from my servants about the nature of my new friendship.
The auction of Spanish works was the success I expected. The cream of society attended the event and was in the mood to do battle for the fine works on sale. I was quite in my element standing at the lectern wielding my gavel. I paid extra attention to the audience, perusing the faces that keenly watched me as I conducted the sale. I
