Page 9 of Infernal Vices

“I beg your pardon?”

Cavell swallowed.

“The hound, that’s the moniker the demimonde gave him. He has quite the fierce reputation. Once he gets stuck into a tricky case he’s like a dog with a bone. I’ve seen several good, honest criminals jailed because of his…unflinching passion for the hunt.”

“Ah, well. We have a problem then! The Police Commissioner recently gave Dancer the Gentleman Thief case?”

Sebastian’s cutlery clattered onto his plate.

“I did not know that.” His brows knitted with worry and he wiped his mouth with a napkin and then sat back in his chair. “But that is interesting, dear heart,” he said ponderously. “I’ve gained a lot of pleasure from outfoxing the police over the past year or so. It appears they’ve become rather desperate. I’ve not yet had the displeasure of meeting Detective Inspector Dancer face to face, but I have seen his…work.”

“His work?”

“He’s a brute…cares little for how he gets information as long as he gets it, and he’s not averse to hitting a woman!”

“Goodness!” I gulped. “One of the constables, a young, impressionable officer by the name of Atkins spoke in reverent tones about how inspirational Dancer is. I thought it strange, for I when I met him could not see goodness in the man. He humiliated the very same constable in front of me, and one of his colleagues. I do not see that kind of behaviour as anything worth hero-worship!”

“Does he believe that the Gentleman Thief carried out this burglary?” Cavell asked.

“I don’t know. I suggested to Troy that he puzzle the pieces together and he came to the conclusion all by himself that the rogue was the culprit. However, I am unsure if Dancer believed the story. He remained circumspect and questioned as to how the thief entered the house. There was no proof of violence on any of my locks; therefore he suspects one of my servants of being in cahoots with the thief.”

“Hmmm,” Sebastian said ponderously. “Did you know they’ve stationed a copper outside watching this house? He’s out of uniform, grey coat, bowler hat, carrying a folded up newspaper.”

“What the devil for? Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure! He’ll be noting the comings and goings from the house. They may have street urchins watching your servants too when they leave the house to run errands.”

“This…this is most vexatious! I don’t know what to do to remove suspicion from my household.”

“You carry a door key with you at all times?”

“I do as a matter of habit. But I cannot say I’ve ever had to use it. There is always a servant at home to open the door.”

“You’ve lost the key,” Cavell said decisively.

“No I haven’t, it’s here, in my waistcoat pocket,” I relayed in confusion, patting the pocket and feeling the bulky outline of the iron key.

“Give it to me. Your pocket was picked while attending a church service at St Giles. You didn’t realize or think to check for the key until after the police had left. Send Inspector Dancer a note and tell him this.”

“I suppose it could work,” I said, but privately I doubted this would appease the hound. He was looking for more in this event than just a theft, and it troubled me.

A knock on the door silenced us. Mrs. Twigg entered the dining room with the fresh pot of coffee I’d requested, as it was Sebastian’s preferred beverage in the morning. Her grey hair was usually in tight curls, coiffured and pinned in a way that always dazzled me with its intricacy. But today she wore the same cotton and lace cap that the maids wore. She looked tired and drawn, but brightened when she saw my guest. Flora adored Birdie and I’d a feeling she’d chosen to bring the coffee herself instead of instructing a maid to do so.

“Here you go sir. Freshly brewed,” she said moving the empty teapot and replacing it with the coffee pot.

“I say, my dear Flora. Are you all right? You must be shaken after the to-do this morning. Terrible business, just terrible,” Birdie said offering his hand to my cook. She laid her pudgy pink hand in his and as he gave her a gentle pat.

“Oh Birdie, sir. So very kind of you to ask,” Mrs. Twigg preened. “We’ve all had a dreadful shock. The girls are in a bit of a two an’ eight. The Police were here. Did the master tell you? The young constable was a dote, but that detective fellow, oh, he was the very devil, accusing me and my girls of all sorts.”

“I’m dreadfully sorry Mrs. Twigg. I’d like to reassure you that I do not believe any of my household to be responsible for the theft. I’ll make sure Detective Inspector Dancer knows that you are innocent of wrongdoing.”

“Much obliged sir."

“I don’t mean to alarm you further Flora, but Birdie here tells me he spotted a policeman out of uniform across the square watching the house. And soon enough there may also be members of the gutter press about seeking a story. Please remain alert when you or the maids go out on errands. Don’t tell the guttersnipes anything.”

“Don’t you worry Mr. Benedict. My broom is at the ready should any of them buggers come to the door!”

After Mrs. Twigg left us to finish our breakfast Sebastian asked, “Did the photographs from your insurance agent arrive?”

“Yes, I received the book minutes after the police were gone. When you’re done we shall retire to my study. I’ll show you what was stolen. The absence of one pertinent item worries me in particular. Euan took the silver fish spice box I purchased from Lawrence Blake. If Fratres Seminis catches up with him and the spice box is still on Euan’s person it will lead them straight back to me.”

“Fear not, dear heart. I have a few associates at pawn shops and silversmiths, I’ll put the word out to look for it.”

“Thank you. I’d wager Euan wants cold hard cash to buy his escape to the continent,” I suggested.

“Oh no. I don’t believe he’ll go to the continent at all. He craves a union with the cabal as desperately as any opium eater craves the smoke. I believe his goal is to find a way to be welcomed back into the brotherhood so he can avail of his drug.”

“Hmm. You could be right. He seeks to retrieve the Staff of Asklepios to appease Blake. He is adamant the Gentleman Thief stole the staff after the auction, and so maybe he will use whatever proceeds he gets from the sale of my silver to pay for information on its whereabouts! Be alert, my love, for every man has his price, and I expect at least one of your associates in the demimonde is willing to bargain with your identity!”

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