Control of the narrative. That was an interesting way of putting it, I thought.
“Aye,” Brodie replied.
I could tell that he was not at all pleased with the turn of events. It did seem that we might be engaged in this with the Agency for an extended period of time.
Sir Avery nodded. “I will make contact when arrangements are in place. Where may I contact you?” He looked first at Brodie, then at me.
“We can be reached at the office on the Strand,” Brodie replied.
We.
I did wonder what that might mean now, with everything that had happened. Brodie accompanied me to Mayfair, then continued on to the office I presumed. Of course, it was possible that he had taken accommodations elsewhere during the past few months.
I told myself that it shouldn’t matter.
There were changes in the office on the Strand. I noticed them as soon as I arrived the next morning.
The well-worn signage on the third floor that advertised available office space along with health tonics, legal services, and the somewhat vague reference ‘personal servicesat reasonable rates’ that raised obvious questions, had all been removed, along with the smaller sign nearer the street that had read:
A. Brodie, Private Inquiries
In truth, I had some difficulty finding it that first time as it was quite small. The small sign was all that the building’s landlord allowed. As for legal services, that was self-explanatory, although I had never seen anyone coming or going at those other offices on the third floor, which did raise the obvious question just who, if anyone, was occupying those offices.
There was now new signage that read:
Brodie and Associates, Private Inquiries.
That was interesting, I thought. The sign was brass with raised letters and quite tasteful, something one might see in Mayfair or at St. James.
“The rents will undoubtedly increase. I’ve had Munro inquire about other places where I might open an office.”
“Miss Forsythe,” Mr. Cavendish, who was also known as the Mudger to those on the streets of the East End, greeted me with a large smile as he paddled out from under the alcove.
He lived in the alcove, most of the time, and had become a good friend as well as a source of clues in previous inquiry cases. He had been injured in a past accident some years before that took both of his legs. He now wheeled about on a wood platform with amazing speed and agility, often dodging among trams and carriages on the street.
It would have been too easy to feel sorry for him. He would not have tolerated it. In truth, I regarded him as a trusted friend.
“Good to see you. It hasn’t been right around here without you,” he added pointedly, with a look over at Brodie.
Rupert, the hound, accompanied him and now stopped a few feet away. He sat down with head cocked in a way that suggested he wasn’t at all certain who I might be. There wasalso the possibility that he wasn’t at all pleased with me, his ears flattened, and then there was that sideways glance.
“I see there have been some changes.” I indicated the new sign.
“And not a word to Mr. Brodie other than the people who came round to make the change,” he replied. “And let us know as well that the building is to be painted.”
He was obviously not pleased about it.
“I suppose I’ll have to find someplace else to live with the hound once the new owner comes round. Won’t be easy. Most people are put off by him.”
Rupert still hadn’t approached, as if he didn’t know what to make of me after all the time I’d been away.
The hound and I had shared past adventures in two inquiry cases. In fact, it could very definitely be said that he had saved my life on one particular occasion.
I had acquired a love of hounds as a child, his predecessor also named Rupert, and had a fondness for him.
Now, I knelt at the sidewalk and spoke to him. He immediately launched himself toward me and would have bowled me over if Brodie hadn’t reached out a hand to support me.
“The beast hasn’t been right for months,” Mr. Cavendish explained. “Surly as the devil. Yer the only one who seems to have a way with him.”
