Page 117 of Affair

A man who is born without a destiny must fashion one for himself.

“What does it mean?” Hamilton asked.

“It means that we were expected.” Baxter crushed the note in his fist. “Come. There is no time to delay.”

“I’m quite willing to leave this chamber.” Hamilton narrowed his eyes. “How, precisely, do you suggest we accomplish that feat? Neither of us is small enough to get up that chimney.”

Baxter started to tell him that the wardrobe was the most likely place to conceal the entrance to a hidden staircase. But a familiar odor stopped him cold.

“Incense,” he muttered. “Bloody hell.”

Hamilton frowned. “Yes. I can smell it.” He glanced around the room in consternation. “But how is it entering this chamber? There is no brazier in here.”

Baxter turned toward the fireplace and held the candle aloft. Great puffs of pale, smoky vapor billowed silently out of the cold stone hearth. “Someone on the roof is using a large bellows to force the incense down into this room.”

“It is not quite the same fragrance as the incense that we use in our meetings. Stronger. Not as pleasant.” Hamilton coughed. “And there is far too much of it. Good God, what are they trying to do to us?”

“Use your cravat to shield your nose and mouth.” Baxter pulled his own neckcloth free and quickly fashioned a mask for the lower half of his face.

Hamilton did the same.

Baxter turned back to the wardrobe and yanked open the doors. “There has to be a mechanism here somewhere. Your magician appeared out of the wardrobe in the chamber downstairs.”

He touched one of the panels at the back with questing fingertips. Then he prodded the bottom.

“The incense is too heavy.” Hamilton’s voice was muffled by his cravat. “It will choke us to death.”

Baxter glanced at him. Hamilton was staring, transfixed, at the ugly clouds that roiled forth from the fireplace.

“I could use some assistance here, Esherton.” Baxter deliberately put an icy, authoritative edge on his words. He needed to get Hamilton’s full attention.

Hamilton swung around with an odd, jerky movement. Above the edge of his makeshift mask, his eyes were slightly glazed. “What … what do you want me to do?”

Baxter’s fingers brushed against two small indentations in the corner of the wardrobe. “I believe I’ve found our escape route.” He tugged hard. The back panel of the wardrobe swung open with a well-oiled squeak. A shadowed opening appeared.

“A staircase.” Hamilton gazed at the narrow flight of steps that led down into the darkness. “How did you know it would be here?”

“I saw how your magician materialized in the chamber below the other night. There had to be a staircase in this wall. It was the only solution.”

“You saw him? Baxter, you never cease to amaze me these days. Discovering this staircase was a damned brilliant deduction.”

“Simple logic.” Baxter picked up the candle and stepped into the wardrobe. “As I said, the brothel that previously occupied these premises catered to exotic tastes. Patrons paid extra to use staircases and peepholes in order to watch the activities taking place in various rooms.”

Hamilton stepped into the wardrobe behind him. “For a chemist, you seem to know a great deal about this sort of thing.”

“I cannot take the credit.” Baxter started down the small staircase. “Father mentioned this particular brothel to me on one or two occasions. He was something of an expert on such establishments. Close the wardrobe door. It will block some of the incense.”

“Father had a wife, by God.” Hamilton shut the wardrobe door. “And a mistress, too, come to that. Why in blazes did he frequent brothels?”

“An excellent question.” Baxter inhaled and caught the tang of incense through the linen neckcloth. “Damn. The incense is seeping through the wardrobe doors. Hurry.”

“I feel a little odd.” Hamilton’s boots thudded softly on the steps. “My head is spinning.”

“It cannot be far.” Baxter sucked in his breath as the flame of his candle suddenly blossomed into a blinding, golden ball of fire. He nearly dropped the taper. “Bloody hell.”

This batch of incense was very powerful, indeed. It was already affecting his senses, even in a limited dose.

“Baxter?”

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