“You seem to have made an impression on the man,” I commented.
“Not so much Mr. Peterson as his son, when I reminded him where thieves usually ended up.”
“From experience, I would imagine.”
There was a shrug beneath the cut of Brodie’s coat.
“When ye’ve been places and can share what it is like, it might leave an impression.”
“It is possible that it was enough of an impression that young Mr. Peterson won’t be inclined to steal again.”
“Aye, that and the threat from his father to turn him out without a farthing to his name.”
The service bell rang out on the landing, a situation soon to be enhanced with the installation of the new lift that was presently a work in progress.
Brodie went out onto the landing and then down the stairs. He quickly returned with an envelope in hand. It was unmarked except for our names on the outside and noticeably without a return address or name of who had sent it.
“This was delivered by the courier service.”
Most intriguing, I thought, as he opened it, read the contents, and then handed it to me.
It appeared that we were being summoned, albeit politely, to a private meeting at The Grand Hotel, at a specific suite of rooms that I wassomewhatfamiliar with at three o’clock that same afternoon…
Two
We waitedin the drawing room of that private suite at The Grand Hotel, a suite that “didn’t exist”according to hotel staff if one inquired, after receiving what might be called a royal summons that had been simply signed, A.E.
I was familiar with those initials that I had seen at the conclusion of our first inquiry case. A.E., Albert Edward, Prince of Wales.
“We”referred to both Brodie and myself, according to an agreement that neither of us would undertakeseparatecases after a particular situation that could have ended badly. Although, I did have it well in hand by the time he had arrived.
Over the intervening months, there had been the odd case or two, including the Peterson case, with most of our time devoted to the changes we wanted to make to the office now that Brodie was the official owner of the building on The Strand. Such as the lift we were having installed to assist those for whom the stairs presented a difficulty.
I originally thought of Mr. Cavendish, who assisted us from time to time in our inquiries, while Brodie had pointed out that itmight be convenient for my great aunt, who made frequent visits when she was out and about in her motor carriage.
The lift was to be powered by electricity and was very nearly completed, along with an expansion of the second-floor loo, repairs to the ground floor shop at #104 that had stood empty for some time, and then a remodel project of the third floor.
Brodie had decided to let out the ground floor shop to a business prospect. He was determined that ownership of the building should include rental income from the other spaces.
The third floor, which had been vacant for some time, needed a great amount of work. My great aunt had ideas about that. I could only imagine what that might include.
Brodie had left Mr. Cavendish in charge of the final test for the lift that we had to postpone after the arrival of our“unofficial”summons, delivered by one of the courier services about London.
It was quite odd that His Royal Highness had chosen one of those services about London rather than the official royal courier. So here we were, awaiting the arrival of the Prince of Wales.
I was familiar with the suite of rooms at The Grand as I had been there before with my good friend, Templeton, who at the time was rumored to be the'theatre companion'of the Prince of Wales.
That particular title was subject to various interpretations that included mistress and lover although she had vehemently denied it at the time.
“Dear Bertie and I are just…very good friends.”
Good friends, my foot.
I did like Templeton very much, a well-traveled, independent woman much like myself. We got along without any pretenses and shared a colorful conversation from time to time. And thenthere was her pet iguana, Ziggy, who was now in residence at the London Zoo.
She was forever attempting to persuade me to join her on her next tour to the United States. However, that had been pre-empted by the man who presently paced the floor of the suite.
“How am I supposed to greet the man?” Brodie asked with a frown. “I canna exactly slap him on the back and offer to buy him a pint,” he said with more than a little sarcasm.
