Page 62 of The Affair of the Mysterious Letter
The conversation continued in this vein on and off the rest of the way to Liohtberg, Ms. Haas and the Contessa exchanging anecdotes about the iniquities of the modern world and the personal shortcomings of Eirene Viola. On this latter subject, their observations became increasingly intimate to the point that I felt compelled to leave the cabin. It was not, you understand, that I begrudged my companion the satisfaction she found in the society of the Contessa, but I fear that the ladies brought out the worst in each other, which was perhaps to be expected since one was a black-hearted creature of the night without compassion or remorse, and the other vampire. I make this observation with comical intent, my editor having expressed concerns that readers may consider me, in his words, stuffy. Besides, I believe Ms. Haas would have appreciated the comment and been gratified to know that at least some part of her sense of humour appears to have rubbed off on me.
In any case, the most immediate consequence of the two ladies’ newfound (and mildly inappropriate) bonhomie was that I had cause to spend a lot of my time in the lounge car, since they grew increasingly comfortable in each other’s company and chose to act upon that comfort in ways best transacted privately.
For my own part I was not unhappy with this outcome since the lavish appointments of the Austral Express afforded me an opportunity for relaxation such as I had not experienced in years. I made theacquaintance of several interesting travellers, played several stimulating games of chess, and read a variety of newspapers from across the Hundred Kingdoms and beyond. Thus, in our various ways, my companion and I passed an eminently satisfactory journey and arrived in Liohtberg.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Aurwald Mail Flight 121
The remarkable luxuryof the Austral Express threw into sharp relief the inconvenience we experienced when expediency and economy demanded that we return to Khelathra-Ven by mail coach. My companion complained bitterly of the necessity not only of sitting alongside commercial travellers but also, as she put it, being bundled into a box with the tedious correspondence of strangers. The carriage itself was miserably uncomfortable, although there was no denying the majesty of the four winged horses that drew it. Somewhat less majestic were the two other travellers with whom we were forced to share our three-day, four-stage journey. One was a large man from Hansea, a trader of sorts in exotic fauna who insisted upon bringing with him a box filled with live snakes. The other was a well-dressed lady who spoke with a slight Kendish accent and evinced the enviable capacity to sleep through literally anything, including a minor incident in which one of the snakes slithered free of its confines and was unceremoniously hurled out of the window by Ms. Haas, who declared herself quite out of patience with the whole situation.
Despite the utter lack of anything resembling privacy, Ms. Haas seemed entirely at ease discussing the latest points of information and evidence that had arisen as a consequence of our most recent adventure.
“These bullets,” she said, ignoring the snoring Kendish woman and the ill-concealed interest of the merchant, “which I extracted from the Contessa’s spine would seem to imply something very specific about the nature of your mysterious stranger. The peculiar metal of which they’re cast, combined with the strange sigils on the casing, marks them out as Carcosan in origin. And when taken in conjunction with your description of our rescuer’s attire and, indeed, with the broader fact that this whole affair hinges on the matter of blackmail, there is a very good chance that we’re dealing with the Repairers of Reputations.”
I leaned in and lowered my voice, in at least a token effort to avoid being overheard by the other passengers. “Forgive my ignorance, but I have little familiarity with the organisation in question.”
“They are spies, Mr. Wyndham,” announced my companion cheerfully. “Once the loyal enforcers of the crowned heads of Carcosa, they now serve the party with suspiciously similar fervour. And given that one of the names on Eirene’s list happens to be a high-ranking member of the new order it seems we may at last have our man.”
“But why would he rescue us from a vampire?”
“Firstly, it almost certainly wasn’t him; it was one of his agents. Secondly, that agent probably didn’t realise we’d pulled a switch at the station. Thirdly, if you’re planning to ruin a woman’s life, drag her away from her home, and force her into marriage, you don’t really want to contend with a malicious, scheming immortal who has exactly the same plan.”
I adjusted my cuffs, still unaccustomed to wearing so much lace. “Miss Viola certainly inspires strong reactions.”
“In my experience, people tend to bring their reactions with them. It’s certainly true that Eirene has been involved with some colossal ——” And here Ms. Haas used a disparaging colloquialism. “Myself included. But I think that says more about circumstances thanher character. Though if you tell her I said so, I shall lay upon you the twice-blinding curse of Atlach-Nar.”
“Fear not,” I reassured her. “Nobody will ever learn that you once said something that wasn’t entirely heartless and uncalled for.”
Of course, in relating this incident in these pages I have now broken that promise. I take solace in the fact that it was largely made in jest, and that it represents one of only four times on which I have failed to keep my word to her.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Further Developments
As enjoyable asour sojourn aboard the Austral Express had been, there was nonetheless a certain warm sensation of homecoming associated with our return to 221b Martyrs Walk. The feeling was rather unexpected, putting me in mind of the time long ago when I had first said to my varsity friends that I was “going home” and meant returning to my room in college rather than returning to my parents’ house in Ey. It was a sense of natural belonging that I had not felt in many years. My satisfaction was marred by the realisation that I would have to explain nearly a week’s absence to my employers, and by the unexpected arrival of Miss Viola about ten minutes after I’d put the kettle on.
I emerged into the sitting room to find her standing over Ms. Haas, who, having shown no inclination to shed her Vedunian finery, was stretched across the chaise in a cascade of red satin.
“I would have thought,” my companion was saying, “given the trivial detail that we saved your life a few days ago, you could show at least a little gratitude.”
Miss Viola was dismissive of this notion in colourful terms. “Cora,” she continued, “is going to the Myrmidons. She says it’s company policy in cases of blackmail. I told her that I am not part of her company and, in the likely event that those upjumped hoodlums can’tkeep their mouths shut, that her parents will find out, they’ll cancel the wedding, and whoever is doing this will get exactly what he, she, or they want.”
“That’s actually a rather interesting datum.”
“Oh, I’m so glad”—Miss Viola attempted to kick Ms. Haas in the shins but made contact only with her voluminous skirts—“my incipient ruination is an interesting datum.”
“Might I remind you that I am conducting this analysis for your benefit?”
“Then conduct it. What’s interesting?”
Ms. Haas lit a pipe with the enthusiasm of one who has been denied access to tobacco for far too long. “Well, I can scarcely believe I have to point this out to you, but your blackmailer’s behaviour is highly atypical. As you have just observed, the action into which this individual is attempting to coerce you—that is, the breaking off of your engagement with Miss Beck—is one into which you would necessarily be forced were they simply to reveal the information they have to Miss Beck’s family. They are, in a sense, not asking you to do anything they couldn’t do for you.”
“And why,” sighed Miss Viola, “is that so terribly intriguing to you?”
“It suggests your enemy is not your enemy, or notsimplyyour enemy. Their goal is highly specific—the breaking off of your engagement to Miss Beck with the minimum possible level of collateral scandal. It was this rather obvious point that led me to suspect Miss Beck’s associates, although I swiftly eliminated them after that silly matter at the ball. So now we are left with only two possibilities.”
There was a silence, which Miss Viola seemed to find unreasonably provoking. “Which are?”
