Scandalous as that thought might be, I didn’t give a fig. I wanted the arguments over an inquiry case, that exchange of ideas that no other man had ever considered I could provide.
I wanted the quiet moments after at the office on the Strand over my aunt’s very fine whisky, and when he slowly loosened the braid from my hair, then took my hand, and...
We found a driver very near the Westminster and gave him instructions to take us to Paris Nord station. We arrived in good time to purchase our travel vouchers.
The next train was to leave for Brussels in less than an hour. We then made our way to the platform for the north-bound train.
Very near the platform, I stopped and looked back over my shoulder once more, searching the passengers who had arrived and, like ourselves, were soon to depart.
“What is it?”
“I thought I saw someone that I recognized.” Although I wasn’t certain.
“Man or woman?”
“I’m not certain.” I know that sounded ridiculous.
“It was just a glimpse, and with so many people about…”
He looked past me, searching the faces of those who now crowded the platform as our train arrived and passengers departed. I looked back once more at the faces of people around us, but whatever or whomever I thought I had seen wasn’t there.
“I must have been mistaken.”
We boarded the train and found our compartment.
I had taken the Nord express from Paris on an adventure trip, on a route that had taken me to Munich, Vienna, Budapest, then Istanbul. On the return we had taken a more northerly train route that had stopped briefly in Brussels before returning to Paris.
I could not say that I was familiar with all of Brussels, yet my travel companion at the time and I had spent three days there.
When in Brussels…
My great-aunt was familiar with the city and had provided a list of places that I absolutely must see. And then there was chocolate, Belgian chocolate to be precise, unlike anywhere else in the world.
My great-aunt had provided the name of a shop we were to visit in order to bring back the finest chocolate. Jean Neuhaus and his wife, with their shop in the Galerie de La Reine.
It had been somewhat disconcerting when we entered the shop and discovered that Monsieur Neuhaus was quite familiar with the ‘English Lady Antonia Montgomery.’
My great-aunt had property in France where she used to travel frequently. Until that adventure trip, I was not aware of her wanderings into Belgium, and beyond.
“I was once young like yourself,” she had told me.“The difference is that when I traveled then, it was often necessary to travel dressed as a man. For protection you see. It did account for some very interesting encounters. And monsieur’s chocolate? Exquisite.
“It does have aphrodisiac qualities, you know.”
Actually, more than I wanted to know at the age of seventeen years at the time, as I shared the story with Brodie.
“Aphrodisiac?” he repeated with a lift of that dark brow with the scar through it as we sat across from each other in our train compartment for the trip that would take between four and five hours.
He did resemble some dark, mysterious, nefarious character with that one look. It was apparent he knew the meaning of the word.
It was late in the afternoon when we arrived in Brussels. It was almost another full hour before we were able to find a driver to take us to the Hotel Castelan very near the center of the city where we were to meet with Alex Sinclair, and very near another hour through late afternoon traffic on the street before we arrived.
Brodie paid the driver, with some exchange of conversation. It seemed the driver attempted to take advantage and charge almost twice the fare quoted when we left the train station.
It was amusing to watch. I almost felt sympathy for the driver as he couldn’t possibly know that he was quibbling with a manwhose people were known for being frugal and a former police detective as well.
I could have intervened, but I was curious to see who would win the difference of opinion. In the end the driver acknowledged the fare he had quoted, arguing that he was losing additional fares arguing over the matter.
“What was the last of it?” Brodie asked after the driver made a comment in French, along with a gesture.
