“Is there anything you want me to do or to bring in preparation?”
“Wear a neckerchief, something you can use to cover your mouth.” I looked at him curiously.
“Much as I would love to stay, I must make arrangements.” He said mysteriously and headed for the dining-room door. He paused in the doorway and turned back,
“Thank you for a most enjoyable time.” The look we exchanged was so blistering it could have peeled the varnish from my grand oak dining table.
“Thank you,” I replied, “We have begun quite the adventure”.
The Betrayer
I stood in the foyer at the Savoy leaning on my cane. I supposed that waiting in the Savoy Hotel lobby was a damn sight better than being led to Exeter Hall through a filthy smugglers tunnel. I was feeling twitchy, watching high-faulting patrons coming and going, hoping my gaze met no one else who recognized me and would strike up a conversation.
I fumbled for my pocket watch. Tonight I was wearing an 18 karat Gold, Complicated pocket watch by Lepin Paris, made in 1848. I liked the weight of this timepiece in my hand. I clicked the catch and the cover opened to show two dials—a large dial with the time, and a second dial with a day and date regulator. Whoever the cabal was sending to ‘show me the ropes’ was five minutes and thirty-three seconds late. I thought for a fleeting moment about crossing the road to Exeter Hall as I knew exactly where the occult society meeting would take place. But I was not supposed to know, hence the need for a guide.
“Ah there you are!” A younger man’s voice called. I turned to see Charles Ashe exiting the bar—a smoking cheroot in hand. The first time I’d met the man was at the Cavendish Ball, where he had revealed that he was from an esteemed family and, against his father’s wishes, worked as an artist for the Illustrated Police News. With a smile, I remembered that he had been tasked with illustrating reports of The Dandy Rogue’s daring thefts. I wondered how that particular job was coming along!
Ashe’s thick, chestnut brown mustache was waxed. His wavy hair had been flattened with pomander, and with the rebellious curl that had fallen over his brow now gone, his face appeared older and more severe. Again, there was something so intense about the way he observed me with heavy-lidded chocolate brown eyes, that I felt rather awkward.
“Leo not with you?” He quizzed casually when he reached my side.
“No, afraid not. I traveled here alone.”
“I knew the scamp would go walkabouts as soon as he was brought down to London!” He complained. “He’s like a puppy—so fascinated by everything. He needs a leash. It’s rather adorable really”, Ashe mused affectionately. I gulped and was glad to have dodged that question.
“Righty-oh! Let the fun begin, brother Hannan! Come along.” The man grinned wolfishly and as we headed for the entrance doors, he stubbed his unfinished cigar out in a standing ashtray and slid it into his breast pocket for later.
As we stepped out of the hotel and onto The Strand rain began to fall. The wind had picked up too. I held my hat on my head with one hand and gripped my cane in the other as we hurried across the thoroughfare to Exeter Hall. Instead of entering through the front doors, Ashe led me to the back passage and in through the tradesman’s entrance.
We passed the anteroom and the gymnasium. Charles Ashe paused outside a white door. He knocked three taps, then one, then two and six. The door was unlocked from within and I found I had been led to a changing room. There was a line of benches, lockers, and hooks on the walls, and apart from myself and Ashe, there was only one other man in the room. I recognized him as the attendant who had led me through the smuggler’s tunnel.
“Thank you, Monkman,” Ashe said to the attendant. Then he turned to me and grinned.
“Monkman is my father’s valet, and he is well used to these kinds of unusual events.”
Monkman bowed subserviently. “I am grateful the master permits me time-off to assist you in your great work, Sir.”
I was surprised that the man was a valet! My God! He gave me the creeps and would not be touching a hair on my head.
From the look of it, with a line of suits neatly displayed on hangers and hooks, Monkman had been kept busy attending to the other acolytes. There were two red robes and one white gossamer robe remaining, each with a half-face mask placed beside them, two gold and one silver. The sudden dread of realization was a stone weight in my stomach. This was P.E class all over again! I’d hated having to undress in the changing room with all of the other boys. The sight of naked flesh and the requirement for group showers made my body react in confusing ways. I had been completely embarrassed by my pale, wiry naked body—and its reaction to seeing the other, more confident boys undressing without a care and slapping one another’s bare arses in jest. I had no control over my responses at that stage, and more than once I was mortified by a boy embarrassingly shouting, “Look, Hannan’s got a stiffy!”, as we readied for a cross-country run or a game of Rugby.
Monkman helped Charles Ashe remove his greatcoat which he placed on a hanger and then smoothed the fabric as if it were precious. I removed my coat and witnessed a withering look from the valet as if I had insulted him.
“I can tend to myself,” I said in
