for
Queen Street, Abraham driving us in the carriage as far as King
Street, and we walked the remaining two blocks to Guinevere’s
house.
“What will we do when we get there, Bess?” Charlotte
asked.
Halting, I motioned for them to follow me into an
alley. “For the duration of any mission you only address your
companions by their Phantom names. You are Juno,” I said to
Charlotte, then looked at Betsy, “you are Griffin, and Rose is
Sphinx. I, of course, am Raven.” After they had nodded their
understanding, we moved on.
When we reached Martha’s house, I stepped up to the
door while Rose stood near me, and Char and Betsy were at the
corner of the house. I knocked twice, and it only took a few
moments before the door was cracked open, and Martha’s maidservant
was looking me over from my boots to my hat.
“Yes?”
“Be so good as to tell Mrs. Abbot that she has a
visitor.”
The maid looked hesitant, but nodded and
disappeared, leaving the door cracked open.
Martha’s voice shouted, “Tell him I’m not at
home!”
The maid returned, but I waylaid her saying, “I
understand your mistress is from home.” The maid’s bottom lip
quivered as she nodded. Stepping back, and bowing slightly, I said,
“Good day then.” Turning, and stepping away from the house, Rose
fell into step beside me. “Did you hear?”
Rose nodded, appearing as perplexed as I was
feeling. Martha’s voice had been wrought with fear. Something was
wrong in that house. We guided Char and Betsy down the street to
where the road turned left, and then another immediate left took us
onto a footpath that ran directly behind Martha’s house. As I
hoped, there was a back door.
“Are you going to show us how to pick the lock?”
Char asked with a hope-filled voice.
“No, for the door is not locked,” I said, turning
the handle and opening the door. Pulling out my loaded pistol, and
glancing over my shoulder; my expression told the others to do the
same. We then entered the house.
There were smells of something
cooking over the fire as we moved through the narrow kitchen. The
door into the small front hall was open, and immediately we heard
voices. Martha was yelling at someone, moaning that she did not
know her . A man’s
voice replied that she was lying, and Rose and I exchanged a
knowing look.
Stepping away from the door, we conferred in
whispers on what would be the quickest way to take charge of the
situation. I allowed Rose to form a plan. It was not that I did not
find the situation dangerous, but the point of training them was to
prepare them for occurrences such as the one we found ourselves
facing.
“Leave this to me, and when I give the signal, come
in prepared to apprehend,” Rose said before straightening her
spectacles and walking into the foyer. Char, Betsy, and I leaned
close to the door to wait and listen.
“Who’re you?” demanded a thick voice.
“Alfred Smotchers.” It was said in such a haughty
way that I could almost see Rose giving a small bow, her hand
against her abdomen, but her eyes keen on what laid before her.
“The undertaker.”
Martha moaned.
“We did’na call for no undertaker.”
“Ah, but I am not any undertaker, for I grant my
patrons one chance to escape a life in a box.”
“Right dicked in the nob is what you be,” proclaimed
the thick voice.
“Perhaps, but then, I am the one
holding the gun, and I know how to fill my coffins.” There was a
moment of silence until Rose spoke again.
“There are two sisters: one gives birth to the other and she, in
turn, gives birth to the first. Who are the two
sisters?”
Charlotte’s brows creased, and Betsy smiled. It was
as if my mind could not help thinking over the riddle, trying to
form the correct answer. Jack would know.
“Lawks, yer jug-bitten.”
“It is a pity that you have not been taught
mythology, or you would know that your answer is incorrect.”
“Not all of us are as inept as my companion,” a
different man said.
Queen Street, Abraham driving us in the carriage as far as King
Street, and we walked the remaining two blocks to Guinevere’s
house.
“What will we do when we get there, Bess?” Charlotte
asked.
Halting, I motioned for them to follow me into an
alley. “For the duration of any mission you only address your
companions by their Phantom names. You are Juno,” I said to
Charlotte, then looked at Betsy, “you are Griffin, and Rose is
Sphinx. I, of course, am Raven.” After they had nodded their
understanding, we moved on.
When we reached Martha’s house, I stepped up to the
door while Rose stood near me, and Char and Betsy were at the
corner of the house. I knocked twice, and it only took a few
moments before the door was cracked open, and Martha’s maidservant
was looking me over from my boots to my hat.
“Yes?”
“Be so good as to tell Mrs. Abbot that she has a
visitor.”
The maid looked hesitant, but nodded and
disappeared, leaving the door cracked open.
Martha’s voice shouted, “Tell him I’m not at
home!”
The maid returned, but I waylaid her saying, “I
understand your mistress is from home.” The maid’s bottom lip
quivered as she nodded. Stepping back, and bowing slightly, I said,
“Good day then.” Turning, and stepping away from the house, Rose
fell into step beside me. “Did you hear?”
Rose nodded, appearing as perplexed as I was
feeling. Martha’s voice had been wrought with fear. Something was
wrong in that house. We guided Char and Betsy down the street to
where the road turned left, and then another immediate left took us
onto a footpath that ran directly behind Martha’s house. As I
hoped, there was a back door.
“Are you going to show us how to pick the lock?”
Char asked with a hope-filled voice.
“No, for the door is not locked,” I said, turning
the handle and opening the door. Pulling out my loaded pistol, and
glancing over my shoulder; my expression told the others to do the
same. We then entered the house.
There were smells of something
cooking over the fire as we moved through the narrow kitchen. The
door into the small front hall was open, and immediately we heard
voices. Martha was yelling at someone, moaning that she did not
know her . A man’s
voice replied that she was lying, and Rose and I exchanged a
knowing look.
Stepping away from the door, we conferred in
whispers on what would be the quickest way to take charge of the
situation. I allowed Rose to form a plan. It was not that I did not
find the situation dangerous, but the point of training them was to
prepare them for occurrences such as the one we found ourselves
facing.
“Leave this to me, and when I give the signal, come
in prepared to apprehend,” Rose said before straightening her
spectacles and walking into the foyer. Char, Betsy, and I leaned
close to the door to wait and listen.
“Who’re you?” demanded a thick voice.
“Alfred Smotchers.” It was said in such a haughty
way that I could almost see Rose giving a small bow, her hand
against her abdomen, but her eyes keen on what laid before her.
“The undertaker.”
Martha moaned.
“We did’na call for no undertaker.”
“Ah, but I am not any undertaker, for I grant my
patrons one chance to escape a life in a box.”
“Right dicked in the nob is what you be,” proclaimed
the thick voice.
“Perhaps, but then, I am the one
holding the gun, and I know how to fill my coffins.” There was a
moment of silence until Rose spoke again.
“There are two sisters: one gives birth to the other and she, in
turn, gives birth to the first. Who are the two
sisters?”
Charlotte’s brows creased, and Betsy smiled. It was
as if my mind could not help thinking over the riddle, trying to
form the correct answer. Jack would know.
“Lawks, yer jug-bitten.”
“It is a pity that you have not been taught
mythology, or you would know that your answer is incorrect.”
“Not all of us are as inept as my companion,” a
different man said.
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