Roberta sought out her father, intending to give him the good news about the ten pounds she'd been promised, while I took our haversacks upstairs and left them at her bedroom door. I feared a heated discussion once the metronome was unpacked, but I hoped Roberta would think any damage had been caused within the haversack. I knew it was cowardly to avoid confrontation, but I was new to the household, and I feared they would dispense with my services if I did not live up to expectations. In time to come, once I'd succeeded in proving my worth, these little mistakes and mishaps would not be cause for such alarm.
After leaving the haversacks I took the stairs once more, this time to my bedroom. I removed my travel-stained coat and brushed it vigorously, before hanging it carefully in the wardrobe. Then I washed my face with cold water, and smoothed my hair with the flats of my hands, all the while studying my less-than-impressive reflection in the small mirror. I recalled Roberta's uncontrolled laughter at the notion of marriage, and I wondered whether she'd been giving me a none-too-subtle hint. I could almost hear her speaking the words: Do not expend any effort in that direction, Mr Jones, for you and I are quite unsuited to one another.
Still, I had employment, and regular meals, and a roof over my head, which is more than could be said for a vast proportion of the city's inhabitants. I also had a number of troubles requiring my attention, and my time was better spent on those than agitating myself over matters of the heart.
I recalled the mysterious box concealed in my desk drawer, and decided to inspect it that instant. Barely had I taken two steps towards the door, however, when there was a knock. "Yes?" I called out. "Come in!"
The door opened, admitting the maid, Elsie. She carried a silver tray, and upon it, a sealed envelope. "Begging your pardon, but there's a letter for you. Hand-delivered, it was."
I took the envelope and thanked her, and she was just turning to leave when I saw my name scrawled across the front. I recognised the style immediately, and a cry escaped my lips. It was from the scar-faced man!
"Is everything all right, sir?" asked Elsie, her thin face exhibiting concern.
"Yes, yes. Run along now."
She hesitated a moment, then turned and left, closing the door behind herself. As soon as I was alone, I tore into the envelope with shaking fingers, pulling out the folded sheet of parchment within. It was barely a quarter of a page, but that was all that was required for the brief instruction written in the same bold hand:
Crown and Feather
Nine p.m. sharp.
My heart hammered in my chest. I had yet to secure any kind of drawings for the scar-faced man, and now I must obtain something of value before nine! The professor and Roberta were both home, and Mrs Fairacre and the maid would be moving around the house as they prepared and served dinner. With a sinking feeling, I realised my chances of obtaining a prize for the scar-faced man were something approximating zero.
Then I recalled the locked box once more. That was the ticket! Open it, and there were sure to be items inside I could trade for my parents' safety.
Quickly, I stuffed both envelope and note into my pocket, and then I donned my spare coat and left the bedroom for the floor below. Barely had I stepped off the staircase when I heard the dinner bell, and I cursed under my breath at the timing. I could not forgo the meal without drawing attention to myself, and in any case I had not eaten a bite since lunch. No, I would have to take dinner with the professor and Roberta, and immediately after I would beg their leave and tackle the mysterious box.
Chapter 23
It was a shame I was in such a hurry at dinner, for Mrs Fairacre had outdone herself. A large platter of roast beef sat on the sideboard, with thick-cut slices exhibiting just the right amount of pink in the centre. To round out the feast there was a dish of roast potatoes, a tureen brimming with fresh garden peas, and a jug full of steaming hot gravy.
The professor was in attendance, and for once he was not hidden behind his newspaper. He'd donned a smoking jacket of antique vintage for the occasion, the fabric consisting of a diamond pattern picked out in orange thread. With dark purple lapels and cuffs fashioned from plush velvet, the extraordinary piece lent him a certain air of gentility. It also lent him a vibrancy that was most troublesome to the eye, and I avoided looking at him as much as possible.
Roberta was absent, and when the professor helped himself to a platter and began to eat, I felt I should enquire as to her whereabouts before I, too, began my repast.
"Roberta is getting ready," replied the professor proudly. "This evening my daughter attends the theatre with a friend."
I was surprised, for Roberta did not strike me as the theatre-going type. Also, the professor had placed special emphasis on the word 'friend', and I pondered the significance. Was it some beau she was stepping out with, of whom I had been hitherto unaware? I was still thinking on the matter as I began my meal, and the excellent food barely registered.
The dining room fell silent for some time, with nothing but the clink of cutlery to disturb us. Despite the lack of conversation, the professor behaved as though in high spirits, occasionally humming to himself, while at other times he gave a brief utterance of joy and slapped his thigh. I had little doubt this remarkable transformation in his demeanour was due to Lord Snetton's willingness to pay the oft-lamented ten pounds, for the professor's love of money was only exceeded by
