10
James exited The Laughing Rogue and crossed the street to another alehouse.He’d learned nothing more so far.The patrons he’d spoken to at the three places he’d visited since parting ways with Croft weren’t acquainted with a man who went by Grover, Smith, Havilland, or even Marsdale.They’d also heard no mention of an auction of any kind.
“Not the sort o’ thing we spend our blunt on,” said one man while digging into an early supper.He’d gestured toward other patrons who were busy tossing dice in a game of hazard.“Soon as I’m done eatin’, I’ll be spendin’ my coin on tryin’ to win back the two pounds I lost last night.”
James had realized in that moment that even if Grover had come here and this man had seen him, the chance of them discussing the auction would have been slim.In all likelihood, mentioning it to Lilly had been a thoughtless slip made in haste for the sake of bolstering his own ego.
Chances were, no one here would have any valuable details to add.They weren’t of the right class, and yet, James was reluctant to stop his interviews until he’d visited every establishment Grover might have gone to.
Until he’d exhausted every possibility of finding out more about this elusive bastard.
Hell, he’d repeat the effort later tonight if need be, once the gaming hells, taverns, and brothels were fuller.
He pushed his way inside The Jade Pavilion and glanced around the dim interior.Plush divans placed along the periphery of a large open space were separated by wooden screens, offering patrons privacy while they lounged in their opium-induced stupors.
The vinegary scent attached to the pastime activity filled James’s nostrils.He knew from personal experience what kind of hold the stuff could have on a man’s mind.The smoke could ease all kinds of worries and fill the body with bliss, but the cost was higher than any other he’d ever encountered.It built a prison for the users and turned them into slaves.
The strength of will required to escape it was indescribable.How lucky had he been that Croft found him when he had?That he’d seen something useful in him, beyond the delirious opium-induced lethargy James remembered?That he’d brought James to his home and locked him in a room, away from all temptation, for as long as it took his body to rid itself of the poison?
He owed his life to that man and would happily give it as payment if the need to do so arose.James would do the same for Croft’s wife and child.No second-guessing.
Hell, if it weren’t for Croft, James might still be working himself to death in the dockyard, loading and unloading crates from dawn until dusk.Instead, he’d been offered a job as footman.This allowed him the chance to improve his education and speech, merely by interacting with Croft and the other servants in his employ.
And indeed, he’d paid keen attention so as to make the most of the opportunity.
His effort in this regard had paid off, ensuring his promotion to valet a year or two later when the position became available.So yes, there was no doubt as to where his loyalty lay.He’d always strive to serve Croft to the best of his ability.
Moving carefully through the dimly lit space where low-burning oil lamps cast most of the divans in shadow, James approached the proprietor.
The Chinese man sat at a table near the back of the room, his gaze fixed on James with interest.“You want?”
“No.”James stopped before him and realized there were other eyes on him.Two men stood nearby, one in each corner behind the owner.Both alert, their pistols at the ready.Returning his attention to their master, James said, “I need information about a man who’s known to have frequented this area.Liked spending his evenings at The Gilded Lady from time to time.”
“I know nothing,” the proprietor said.“Very dark in here.”
Clearly he had no desire to get involved in whatever trouble he thought James brought to his doorstep.This was further underscored when he produced a small tray filled with all the supplies one might need to enjoy a good time there.“You stay, you smoke.Five penny.”
James stared at the stuff, the urge to surrender to one quick puff so strong it took every ounce of willpower in his possession to fight it off.“I’ll give you a pound instead, if you can tell me about the man I’m seeking.”
“Sound like he very important to you.”The Chinese man studied James, his expression thoughtful.“Five pound.”
“That’s an outrageous sum,” James protested while taking a step toward the man.
Two unmistakable clicks made him freeze.The tell-tale sound of pistol hammers being pulled back.He sent a careful look toward the men who stood guard.Both appeared ready to blast his head off his shoulders — a realization that made him back up a little.
“Fine,” he muttered.“Provided the information you give me is useful.”
Hell, he’d not even given the man a description of Grover yet.Might be a good idea to start there.So he painted a picture based on what he knew so far, and realizing this might describe any number of individuals, decided to mention the name Grover, just in case.
To James’s surprise, recognition filled the proprietor’s eyes at the sound of the name.“Regular customer, that one.”
“You’re sure?”
“Grover not too common name, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” James agreed.“What can you tell me about him?”
“Came many times.Just smoke little.Then two weeks ago, he ask to buy supply — wanted special price for large amount.I tell him I don’t sell supply.You want to smoke, you smoke here.You don’t take opium away, give to others, or worse, sell and make profit.”
