Page 28 of Infernal Vices

Charles strode across the room towards a credenza above which a painting of Achilles and Patroclus entwined in a homoerotic embrace stole my breath.

“Did…did you paint that?”

“Oh, yes, in my first year at school,”

“Good Lord! It’s…astonishing.”

“Thank you. Forgive the bally mess. I keep meaning to sort and tidy my sketches but I’ve been so busy,” Charles said apologetically. I was fond of order and neatness, but I understood the artistic temperament, having visited many artists’ studios in a state of far more disarray.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I am a guest in your studio. All I can see are the scattered seeds of creativity.”

Charles eyes met mine and he smiled warmly. “I knew you would understand Benedict. Care to whet your whistle?” He wagged his brows. Charles’s eyes then flared with amusement at my alarmed reaction. “I mean brandy, wine, whisky?” he offered, gesturing to the array of bottles on the credenza.

“Oh, brandy would be welcome, thank you.”

“Please go ahead and take a seat.”

The room was warm and comfortable. It smelled of Sandalwood and the musk of male sweat…of Charles. It was not unpleasant. I unbuttoned my jacket and eased onto the couch, my fingers absently running over the soft velvet fabric as I glanced up at the frames on the mantle. There was a loose sheet of paper propped between two silver frames. I recognized it to be one of the sketches Charles had drawn of me. I grew hot around the collar understanding the significance of the prized position of the artwork. Charles had placed the sketch of me beside a framed photograph of himself in military uniform, and a photograph of young Cecily Ashe, the latter made the question I was supposed to ask Charles on behalf of the cabal more tentative.

“You were in the Military?”

“No, not in service. The photograph was a jape of sorts for a newspaper story about the lot of the artillery soldier. The only way I could gain access to talk to soldiers was to pretend to be one. I dressed in the uniform and hung around in pubs near the Royal Artillery Barracks in Woolwich.”

“Goodness, how covert. Did you get a story?”

“Oh yes, and a few back-alley uprights!” Charles snickered. “I took the story to Benjamin before I showed it to my editor. Benjamin spoke in the House of Commons about the hardships that our brave boys are dealing with and he demanded that Gascoigne-Cecil increase funds for the military. By the time the story was printed I’d turned it into a good news story for the government.”

I saw it now, how those in the cabal enabled their brothers to succeed and profit. I also saw that it was a double edged sword. Personally, I did not require the rails greased, but I also could not reject any help offered for fear of the cabal using my homosexuality as a weapon to ruin me.

Charles sauntered across the room and handed me a glass of amber liquor. He sprawled on the opposite end of the couch and took a gulp of his drink, and then put the glass down. “Do you have it with you?” he asked a smile in his voice.

“Have what?”

“The red book!”

“Yes, of course, of course.” I placed my glass on a side table and retrieved the confusing volume from the inner pocket of my jacket. “Would you please put me out of my misery? I have turned that volume over time and time again and for the life of me I cannot uncover the puzzle,” I pleaded as I handed the book over. Charles sat up and absently pushed his unruly curl off his brow.

“While I would gain much enjoyment ribbing you, we don’t have time to play games. I understand that our wayward pup wrote to Benjamin and work is afoot to bring him back to London.”

“Indeed, and I have a request for you in regards to that matter. But first, show me what this damnable book is all about.”

Charles slid off the couch and onto the rug in front of the roaring fire. ”Join me,” he encouraged. I was not the kind of man who was comfortable crawling around on the floor like a child…unless I had the prize of Sebastian as an enticement. But reluctantly I acquiesced and lowered onto my knees beside Charles.

“It is a wondrous sight to behold and a credit to the bookbinder Euan paid to make the volumes for us. The key to the secret is here, at the headband,” Charles said, pointing a manicured nail to the red and white band at the top of the stitched pages that gave an extra support to the spine. He wedged his thumb nail beneath the headband and flicked it up to reveal and draw out a finely worked curved sliver of Ivory. Charles pulled the bone spine out completely and laid it on the rug, and then he carefully opened the book. The blank pages separated from the book cover and were now in a loose concertina. Charles unfolded the pages which turned from say thirty leaves, to one large sheet of paper.

“This is most intriguing,” I said, flabbergasted at the intricacy of the clever binding. “But the page is still blank. I do not understand.”

“Ah, behold the magic!” Charles enthused. He pushed up to his feet and then retrieved a candle on a silver holder, and a box of sulphur matches. He then returned to kneel by my side. He struck a match and lit the candle. I waited patently and then gasped when Charles lifted the edge of the page and held it a two hands height above the heat of the candlelight. Within seconds the heat had made a chemical reaction occur. Words, and…my goodness, an erotic drawing of two men in flagrante delicto appeared. Charles moved the fine sheet of paper wafting the flow of heat to spread beneath the page and soon enough more images and words appeared.

“What the devil? Who made this? What did the scribe use to make the writing invisible?”

Charles’ tongue was sticking out between his lips as he concentrated on not allowing the thin paper to become too hot and burn. It took another minute to expose the entire page to heat and allow the transformation to occur.

Charles then blew out the candle, and laid the large page flat for me to see, and then he sat back against the couch.

“It was me. I did the work on the book pages, all inscribed by hand. It took a whole month, you know.”

“I am…confounded. It is a remarkable achievement.” I turned to Charles I could see how he blushed and preened with pride, twiddling the end of his moustache, delighted with the praise.