David’s lips quirked. “I’m here to pacify Constance?”
“You’re hereinsteadof Constance.”
David laughed.
Not without difficulty, they found the first den on Lady Grizelda’s scrap of paper. Inevitably, it was halfway down a dingy alley where every opening in the greasy walls seemed to have eyes, and metal flashed among the shadows—not coins but blades. Solomon walked beside David as far from the doorways as possible until they found the one they sought, flanked by two large and watchful bullies.
Rather to Solomon’s surprise, they were nodded straight in and down some dark steps to an only slightly better lit room below. There was everything Solomon had expected: tables for cards and dice, the clank of coins and glasses, screeches of female laughter, and a whole variety of voices, from the broadest London accents to the most cultured. Many slurred; some shouted. The place stank of smoke and tobacco, which also helped to obscure one’s view of what was going on there. Scantily dressed females toured the room, looking for business and no doubt emptying pockets while pretending to bring luck to the players.
An oily specimen greeted Solomon and David, rubbing his hands. “Good evening, my fine gents! What’s your pleasure? Cards or dice? How about a glass of fine brandy to begin with?”
They sat down where the man indicated, and he sent a girl to fetch their drinks. “Actually,” Solomon said, “I’m looking for someone. Jason Madly.”
“Never heard of him,” said the oily man, adding only a moment later, “What do you want him for?”
“I think I owe him money,” Solomon said, as the quickest route to a man of uncertain fortunes.
The oily man cackled. “Well, I wouldn’t owe it too long. But you’re still out of luck ’cause he ain’t here.”
“No matter,” Solomon said amiably.
The girl with the drinks swayed toward them and Solomon placed a coin on her tray, distracting her hand from its furtive journey toward David’s coat pocket.
“Looking for Madly,” Solomon said, adding another coin.
“He ain’t in tonight.”
Solomon put his Silver and Grey business card on the tray. “Drop him a word I was looking.”
“’Cause you owe him money,” the girl said derisively.
Solomon smiled slightly. “Well, you wouldn’t want to be the reason he didn’t get it, would you?”
Her laughter vanished. The card and the coins disappeared into her costume—somehow—and she vanished.
David was watching him with a mixture of fascination and amusement.
“What?”
“I never expected you to be good at this. I thought that’s whyIwas here.”
“Oh no,” Solomon said. “I just wanted the company.”
David laughed and clinked the bottom of his glass against Solomon’s.
The brandy was anything but fine. It tasted as if it had been made in a coal scuttle from old socks. They nursed the glasses without drinking, waiting to see if Madly emerged from the woodwork. Solomon looked about him. As he got used to the dimness and the smoke, he saw there was indeed a group of gentlemen in that night, making no effort to blend in with the lesser mortals. They were loud and drunk but liable to get into more trouble than they ever caused. But they were also in their early twenties, far too young to be Madly. In fact, anyone of about the correct age looked anything but dangerous.
After half an hour, Solomon said, “Let’s try the next.”
The next was off a back court and up a set of outside stairs, but otherwise it resembled the previous establishment, including the disgusting brandy.
“They must make it in a vast communal tub,” David observed, as a girl sat in his lap.
“But it’s probably safer than the water.”
The girl said, “What you playing, gents? Dice is fair.”
“We’ll watch first,” David said.
