The Arnifour Affair by Gregory Harris Page A

“Ya ’bout broke me bleedin’ eardrums, ya shite.”
    â€œGet out!” he bellowed. And although the proprietor was no taller than the diminutive mademoiselle herself, he shook with such rage that neither she nor her burlier companion seemed willing to press him any further.
    The two of them made their way out, the rest of the patrons holding their collective breath until the door swung shut behind them. Only then did the general murmuring start again, although this time with a renewed sense of vigor. I cursed myself for not having followed the Slavic man out. Surely her business with him had been more apropos than what I’d stayed here to witness. We were making scant headway on either of our cases and each day their trails were becoming fainter.

CHAPTER 13
    M y failure to gain much information about Mademoiselle Rendell was tempered by the fact that Colin had won not only the wrestling tournament for his age group, but also the exhibition round against a man nearly fifteen years his junior. He gave me the glowing details before finally settling in and agreeing that the Slavic man was likely to prove a man of interest. Thereafter he left me on my own for the remainder of the evening while he retreated to the bath.
    We had little interaction the next day as well and I knew he had withdrawn into his thoughts in an effort to ferret out the next best step. I’d suggested that perhaps I should try to find the Slavic man, but he’d dismissed the idea for the moment, and so it was that we were in our study late that afternoon; me reading while Colin paced relentlessly, incessantly disassembling and reassembling his new Nagant revolver, when there came a sudden and frantic pounding at our door. Colin spun away from the fireplace so quickly that the cylinder of the Nagant he’d been fussing over was launched from his hand in great cartwheels before coming to land across the room.
    â€œDamn . . . ,” he cursed as he hurried after it. “If that got bent . . . ,” he threatened rhetorically. I watched him give it a quick inspection as he went to the window and peered outside. “It’s the Arnifours’ buckboard,” he announced. “Has to be one of the Heffernans. Nathaniel most likely. Victor would never have the audacity to pound on anyone’s door like that.”
    â€œI wonder why he’s here?”
    â€œWe shall know soon enough,” he said as he wrapped the pieces of the revolver into his handkerchief and laid them on the mantel.
    The sound of two sets of shoes mounting the stairs drifted up as Colin took his seat next to me. A moment later he was proven correct when Mrs. Behmoth ushered Nathaniel Heffernan into the room.
    â€œNathaniel ’efferead ta see ya.”
    â€œNan . . . ,” he corrected sourly. “Heffer nan .”
    â€œIf ya like.” She shrugged and made her exit.
    â€œI take it,” Colin stood up, “that you bring news?”
    â€œI do.” He stared at Colin blandly and said, “It’s Miss Elsbeth.” And at once I feared the worst. “They’re saying she’s begun ta come round.” There was little inflection in his voice.
    â€œExtraordinary!” Colin popped out of his chair. “You must be anxious to get back and see how she’s doing.”
    Nathaniel did not answer at once, and I wondered if he was trying to gauge whether there was any accusation in Colin’s words. “Is there any message ya want me ta take back?” he finally said.
    â€œNo message . . .” Colin slid a glance to me and then looked back at Nathaniel. “What I’d really like you to take back is us.” He didn’t even wait for a response before he bolted down the hallway toward our bedroom.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWe’re going with you, boy,” he called back. “Make yourself comfortable while we put a few things together, because this time we’ll be staying.