The Blog of Roon

Bahrain is beginning to be visible as a smudge on the horizon, as Margaret shakes out a skirt clearly split for riding, and equally clearly not for herself. She beckons Esperanza over, and hands it to her with a smile. “There, my dear. Now you have two of them. I’d suggest you pack one, and wear the other when we go ashore.” Esperanza trots off with her new finery, looking quite pleased.

Then she walks over to stand next to Shirley, who is leaning on the rail with very little of the relaxed, drowsy posture of the past several days. She looks around to be sure none of the sailors are in earshot. “Shirley?” she says enquiringly, and when he looks down at her goes on, “We’ve talked of ‘cabbages and kings,’ but I’m afraid our difficulties are about to intrude again. We’ll be landing fairly shortly. I know you were in communication with the authorities before we left Alexandria; have they given you any idea where they think Addison might strike next? It would help immensely if Esperanza and I knew when to be most upon our guard.” Her expression is also much more serious than it has been, and she is keeping her voice very quiet. Before he can demur, she goes on “I’m not planning anything rash, so you needn’t worry. But I really do need to know.”

“You would not have asked otherwise,” Shirley acknowledges. “Harston said that Scotland Yard’s forecast for Addison was India. He told me nothing of how they arrived at that conclusion. Nor, frankly, do I think it means much, as Addison has never been the only piece on his side of the chess game, much less the king. I plan to be very careful in Bahrain.”

She nods thoughtfully.

“I am sure I need not say this, but—for heaven’s sake do not let on that you are moving on the chessboard as well, Queen Margaret. I rather suspect that the only way they will allow me to continue to accompany you is if I can protest both your utter ignorance and my complete faith in my ability not to endanger you.”

“Yes, I understand that. Obviously, though, I would be aware of the reports in the Times. That would indicate that I am not ignorant of the dangers, only perhaps that you are serving in any capacity. As for danger,” she shrugs slightly, “you are not the one endangering anyone; it’s Addison. And they can’t control him.”

“I should not be so sure of that if I were you,” Shirley answers soberly. “Obviously I do not mean to endanger you; equally obviously, I may do so without meaning to. It would not precisely be the first time.”

“You refer to Jimmy,” she says, with absolute certainty. “Shirley, you did not endanger him half so much as he endangered himself by his associations. Think about it! He accepted a commission to go warn someone off by knocking them on the head. He must have known he wasn’t keeping the safest company.”

“That makes no difference!” Shirley snaps. “It is my job to keep people like Jimmy away from precisely the sort of trouble he died of! Such a little inconvenience—not even that—on my part would have kept him alive! I appreciate your reassurances, I genuinely do, but let us not pretend that I am wholly guiltless.” He turns on his heel and walks a few paces away from her, standing a little time with his back to her and a clenched fist against his lips.

When he comes back, he takes both her hands in his. To an onlooker, he might have been offering her endearments; only she sees the grim, fixed stare of his ordinarily cheerful brown eyes, feels the hard grip of his hands. “See here, Doctor Byrd, you are here with me only because I cannot rid myself of you. I know you yourself decided to come, and my only grace is that I have allowed that decision to be an educated one. Do not think that your presence, however pleasant I find it, does not weigh on me. If you come to harm, I shall not forgive myself. Therefore you had better not, do you understand me? I suppose, though,” he says, brightening, “that we could always leave separately and join up again later. In that case—I was going to try to find a ship to Panaji. Smaller than Bombay, but much closer to Madras.”

Margaret’s response to that suggestion is a succinct “no.” She goes on, “You are assisting me in locating reliable transportation in an area of the world where a woman is at a great disadvantage, and preventing me from ending up in some pasha’s hareem. I am assisting you with my skill at languages. That is all they need be told. But we will not travel separately.” She adds prosaically, “But the route you’ve chosen sounds good to me.”

Shirley looks at her, elects not to argue. He means to travel with her if he can. If he cannot, either the necessity will present itself so strongly that even she cannot dispute it—or he will make shift to disappear under her very nose. If he must.

She tells him, a bit less forcefully and very soberly, “I really am afraid of Addison and his minions, you know. Only a fool would not be, and I try not to be foolish. And I am afraid of disappearing in a part of the world where no one will even know to begin looking for me. But I also think the greatest safety for both of us lies in acting jointly. I think I should be in greater danger where someone might act without a witness who would realize something was amiss… and so would you.”

He shakes his head once. “I shall have half of Scotland Yard watching my back. You have only me. The situations are not parallel, as you perfectly well know. Howbeit, I have accepted, however reluctantly, that you are not to be dissuaded.” He looses her hands and steps back from her, already sorry for what he said and how he said it. “Now, Margaret, I—you know, it’s nothing to do with—it’s not because—”

For a moment, she just looks at him. She is not smiling at all, but her eyes, usually quite warm, have begun to glitter like grey agates. Her voice, when she does speak, is still very quiet, but crystal would be warmer. “Well. You have had so much to say, I hardly know where to begin! But the beginning is usually most organized, so I suppose I shall begin with Jimmy.

“You, sir, would have had to be omniscient to foresee Jimmy’s fate and omnipotent to prevent it, and if you think you are either, then your fall will be comensurate with your hubris! Your guilt already seems to be.

“As to my presence,” she continues, “it was an informed and thoroughly considered decision. My reasons for it, on my own behalf, were exactly those I gave; by your presence at my side, you protect me from some potentially very ugly situations. You saw that sailor eyeing Esperanza; had it been only I with her, I could not have prevented her from being accosted. A woman in this region unaccompanied by any man is fair game, considered only a step above a prostitute; do you understand that? I gave you my reasons on your behalf when you attempted to dissuade me from joining forces with you, because I really didn’t know you well enough yet to know what might sway you.

“As for my concern for you, it was and is quite genuine; you seem to have a very passion to sacrifice yourself. Now, far be it from me to interfere between a man and his free will, but if you expect me to patch you up at the end of the adventure, I strongly prefer to prevent the need for patching. You commented that you hoped I would not be far, in the event you should be injured. If that should happen, whomever is by will not wait a day or more to locate a particular European physician who is known to be travelling. You will be treated by whomever is there, and quite probably unmasked by someone both less concerned for your fate and less honourable.

“As for Scotland Yard watching your back, your logic fails. They know quite well who I am, and that I am another Ellipsoid. If I am with you, then they will be watching both our backs. Now, my presence is by my own decision, and you made certain the decision was not blindly made. I acknowledge that were you as unpleasant as Lord Percy, I should not have wanted to join forces. Otherwise, I might have made the same suggestion to, say, Ian Caine, and for the same reasons; his protection from importunities Muslim men feel free to visit upon unattached women, and my gift for languages to assist him. The difference is that I would not also have spent so much time in his company. You have no reason to consider yourself guilty for permitting my presence, and I have had quite enough of it. Have I made myself perfectly clear, Mr. Addam? Now, I believe we have travel plans to make. Then I will remove myself from your presence, until you are done with breast-beating. I find it irritating.”

She takes a deep breath. “How were you planning to get from Mangalore to Madras? By rail?”

“Yes. The rail system in India is quite reliable, I am told.”

“Excellent. Then I had better go find Esperanza, and see how she’s doing with her new skirts.”

Margaret listens quietly to the whole story, not interrupting once, although she does giggle softly when Shirley flexes his muscles. When he is done, she remains silent for so long that Shirley turns to look at her under the broad-brimmed hat and parasol the sun forces her to use. Her face, usually so controlled, is a study in mixed emotions. Shirley cocks his head to one side, enquiringly. Finally she says, very softly, “How lonely. How terribly, terribly lonely. To lose everyone you loved, and then leave everything you knew, to make the life you wanted… and it wasn’t even your dream, was it? It was your brother’s.” She looks up finally. She has recovered her usual tone when she says “Thank you. I knew you were very strong, but not, I think, how strong. I am quite glad you did not throw yourself in the river. It would have been a sad loss, and I would never have had the privilege of knowing you.” Her smile is a little shaky, but it is genuine.

Taken aback at the depth of her reaction, Shirley’s first impulse is to demur. “Nonsense, my dear doctor,” he answers in a tolerably chipper voice. “You are making me out some sort of Victor Hugo hero, and I won’t have it. I am not the dreamy sort, you see; I live day by day, always have. I have my work—which I do well at, if I do say so myself—my books, my living, and Lady Hester to chivvy me out into the world every now and again.”

“Yes, of course you do. Please forgive me; I overreact sometimes. But you do make me appreciate my family, none the less.”

“And now I have this terribly wonderful journey, which owing to events I haven’t appreciated half as much as I ought to do. Look at this, Margaret, all of it!” He waves his hand at the Egyptian shore, barely visible on the horizon. “Steaming past the cradle of human civilization, under the same sun that lit the builders of the Pyramids and the Sphinx! Could I have asked for anything more magnificent?” She looks where he is gesturing. His enthusiasm is contagious.

“Except, perhaps,” Shirley adds, more quietly, “a good friend to share it with.” He reaches toward her to take her chin in his long brown hand. “Chin up, my dear,” he says, suiting action to words. “We need neither of us feel lonely just now. And I think our chaperone is sketching us, so turn her a good profile. There, that should do.”

And by now she is smiling in earnest. “Bless you, Shirley,” she says. “I do need to be brought back to earth now and then, and how you manage to do it without being patronizing is marvelous! This is a marvelous adventure, isn’t it?”

Shirley reclines comfortably against a coil of rope and stretches out his long legs, the picture of contentment. “The adventurous bits I could do just as well without, to tell the truth,” he says in a drowsy drawl. “But the long stretches in between the adventurous bits—I am finding them quite pleasant. Tell me about your clinic, will you please? I left you that note with Barstow hoping to find out how I might help with it.”

Margaret is more than happy to oblige, and settles herself nearby in the whatever shade is available with needlework in her lap. She sunburned when this trip started, but by now is beginning to show slight signs of darkening skin. Still, she prefers the shade when she can find it. “I’m not sure you can dignify my practice with the title of clinic,” she tells him a trifle ruefully. “I live in a working-class neighborhood, in a house that was ideally planned for an office in the front and living quarters above-stairs. I see my patients in the early morning or late evening, as they work during the day, and no matter what their illnesses, they cannot take time off on pain of losing their jobs, followed shortly thereafter by the loss of their homes. They are so proud; they never, ever allow me to assist them entirely ‘on charity,’ but still, what they can afford would never keep me if I didn’t have the support of my family.”

She looks over at him, at a bit of a loss. “I’ve been thinking about how a barrister could assist since I read your letter, but really, I don’t know enough about the law. All too often I feel their circumstances are grossly unjust, but I have no idea if they are also illegal.” She turns to her sewing, humming softly; this time an Irish tune called “O’Carolan’s Farewell.” It is obvious that she is utterly comfortable in Shirley’s company.

“Mmm. You must be careful hauling the law in. The likeliest response to investigation into an illegal working environment is the shuttering of the doors, which does the workers no good at all. ”

“Or an illegal housing environment as well, I suspect. No, I quite see your point.”

“I can do that sort of thing, but it must be done most gingerly. No—I was thinking about what could be done to set you up as a private charity hospital. Perhaps you would allow me to examine your books once we return to London.”

“But setting up a private charity hospital… I had thought of setting up a Women’s and Children’s clinic, but even my family’s resources aren’t quite up to that. As for my books,” she makes a soft sound suspiciously like a snort “you are welcome to examine them, such as they are. I have not kept them meticulously. Frankly, I didn’t want someone like my brother to use them to prove to me just how poor a buisness manager I am.” She ties off her thread and starts a new one. “I’m not, really. I’ve just chosen to go where I am most needed. I suppose I’m taking shameless advantage of my family’s willingness and ability to continue to support me.”

“One does what one must. Lady Hester has been very kind to me, but…” He leaves the sentence unfinished. Margaret gives him a slight, understanding smile and nod. “I rather think you could be free of that, if you care to be. Charitable societies are springing up like weeds in a London park; the trouble is finding them something useful to do. Additionally,” he adds with a swift smile, “you have a certain advantage I do not: the suffragists and New Women among us will leap to your aid much quicker than they would, for example, to mine.”

This is sounding interesting; Margaret lets her sewing rest in her lap, and gives Shirley her full attention.

He sits up straight, and his speech quickens. “So perhaps I ought to cling to your—hm, not coattails precisely, and I dislike the connotation of petticoats. Nonetheless. Your clients are doubtless as scanted of legal guidance as they are of medical. I should think it a convenience for them were both services made available at a single location. Such a combined facility would make for easier book-keeping, which I should be quite content to undertake. And the novelty of combining services should prove a powerful spur to government sponsorship and similar fund-raising.”

Shirley hauls himself up short, realizing his tongue has got away with him. “Well, it is only a thought. The details are the difficulty. But I should very much like to work with you.”

By now Margaret is chuckling outright, but her expression makes it clear that she is not laughing at Shirley, nor considers him presumptuous. “Oh, my! Do you know, I have been thinking of ways to induce you to work with me, and hesitating to presume that you would consider removing to London, or would want to extend our association. And now you come up with the very same idea, and much more developed than I had yet managed! This is too wonderful. You never cease to amaze me.” She bows slightly, and adds with mock-pomposity. “Mr. Addam, I believe you may consider me as a potential business associate.”

The sailors on the Red Sea launch nudge each other as Shirley and
Margaret walk past them on deck, Esperanza with her sketchbook and pencils a pace behind. Though the Spanish girl is younger and prettier—one swarthy sailor eyes her openly and lustfully, until a withering thin-lipped stare from Shirley warns him off—the Englishman clearly has eyes for no one but his countrywoman.

The odds current among the sailors are not flattering to Shirley—or, indeed, to Margaret. “She’s a hard ’un, her,” the second mate sums up one evening. “Take more than that limp blade o’ winter grass to soften her up. Twenty to one he’ll not so much as kiss ’er.” No one took him up on it.

Shirley delights in the brilliant, grilling-hot Middle Eastern sun. He spends most of the long days on deck, drowsing quietly, or talking with Margaret whenever they can be out of the way of the sailors. His face, hands, and arms darken visibly by the time they reach Bahrain; he is among the lucky few English whom no amount of sun can burn.

“My parents owned a millinery shop in York,” Shirley tells Margaret one afternoon. “No pretensions whatever of nobility; I come of solid Yorkshire farming stock, I do.” He flexes his thin arm in its rolled-up sleeve comically. “My brother was two-and-a-bit years younger than I. We always looked alike; it was remarked upon. I learned to read and write and cipher—and cook and sew—but my brother seized upon books the moment he learned his letters. He liked to read his boys’ books to me as a child, and would bring me books to read to him that he couldn’t yet manage. Old for his years, he was, truly.

“When I was sixteen and my brother thirteen and some months, both our parents died in a street robbery. Shir—my brother did not take it well. The constabulary found and actually convicted the men responsible. My brother insisted on talking his way into the prison to see them hanged; I earnestly tried to prevent it, but he escaped me. He came back horrified and chastened by what he had seen, and told me he wanted to study law.

“‘And how are we to find money for that?’ I asked him, my anger in no little part stirred by his obvious distress. ‘Set yourself to keeping the shop afloat; we have no leisure for anything else.’

“He tried, bless him. I am a good manager, Margaret, but I have no sense of fashion whatever. My brother did—in addition to discovering a talent as a charmer of women, even at fourteen—and with him choosing out our stock and me managing, we did quite well, all things considered. Even so, he would not give up his hopes, though I showed him over and over that the shop’s receipts would not run to legal tuition and still keep us both.”

Shirley sighs, and lowers his voice. “If I had got married—he never said it to me, never, but I could see him thinking it. Though I seem to be a tolerably presentable man, I was never anything but the most unprepossessing of skinny, homely girls. Small hope of help there.

“My brother would have been a formidable man, I think. He found books I’ve no notion where, and began to study on his own. Rather against my will at first, I helped him, studied with him. We—we never admitted that I was better at it than he, my memory for precedent better and my reasoning sharper. We both knew, but we never, ever said it, and he did not permit it to worry him.

“Then the next winter the influenza broke loose, and we both went down with it. We had to close the shop, as it was all we could do to care for each other. The doctors were overwhelmed, as you can no doubt imagine. Still, we were both on the mend, talking about when to re-open the shop, only I woke up one morning and my brother did not.”

Shirley’s long, sinewy hand clenches into a fist, slowly uncurls. He looks about him carefully before going on. “Have you ever in your life, Margaret, had a moment of perfect clarity? Have you ever seen your entire existence from far away, like Justice peering down at her scales, with knowledge of your complete power to alter everything imaginable one way or another?

“I looked at him, Margaret, just looked at him, for what felt like days on end and can only have been an hour or two. Then I cut my own hair close as best I could, went down to the shop to pick up a wig from one of the display dummies, and started the most grimly humourous series of quick-change tricks and deceptions that one can imagine gracing an operetta stage. The coroner certified the death of Shirley Addam, as he had to—but the stonemason carved Elizabeth Addam’s name on her tombstone, and the over-busy curate said a few words over her grave.

“And then I sold the shop, taking back a note for the sake of the interest. Nobody thought it odd. Poor young Shirley had been sadly affected by his illness and his sister’s death.

“I used the proceeds to study law in earnest. Shirley was a bit young yet, but he was a smart lad, soaked up cases like a sponge, so they let it be.

“I did the usual drudgery clerking, but with some effort I did achieve a stint that gained me access to death records. I filched a fresh copy of a death certificate, filled it in myself, got it signed with a pile of other ones, and made the switch when I was in the archives on a completely different errand. I wonder if the Yard even looked for it. I dare not ask, of course—but I do wonder.

“I took the bar intending to do prosecutorial work—I suppose I was as distraught about my parents as my brother, in my way—but I couldn’t stick it at any price, sending men to hard labour or the gallows. By the time I was ready to throw Blackstone’s at Judge Remington and myself into the Ouse, Lady Hester found me. Some spot of bother with one of her servants that I took care of; she made inquiries into my character and history, and swept me up forthwith.

“But there is more to do than I can manage or she can pay for, so here I am—trying to make enough of a public name for myself to start some kind of subscription, or perhaps earn enough money speaking for a bit to keep myself for a few years.”

(Having met Shirley’s conditions, Margaret elects to travel with him from Alexandria. They take a carriage to the river, intending to get to Cairo by boat and take the train to the Red Sea in order to avoid a mess at the Suez Canal. Shirley’s reporter-induced headache has gotten worse.)

Margaret offers Shirley a headache powder from her bag, assuring him that it won’t affect his alertness; it’s primarily willowbark, calendula and mint, with a little sugar to offset the truly horrible taste.

“Alertness? Right now I have the approximate alertness of a man nine days drowned. Merciful heavens, Doctor, this is foul. It had better work.”

Margaret assures him that it will. It will work better, as well as kill the taste, if he drinks some tea with it. Then she tells him that if he wants to unburden himself of whatever is on his mind so that he can set it aside and get some rest, she will be glad to listen. She points out that if he is going into the situation he seems to think he is, he will need to be alert and have his wits, and exhaustion is not a state conducive to either.

“I know, I know,” he groans, “but for G-d’s sake, it can wait for Bahrain.” He slumps into the corner of the carriage and folds his arms up tight against his chest. “I am, without any conceivable doubt,” he pronounces carefully, a judge giving sentence, “the stupidest and most selfish blackguard ever to live. Michaels asked me why I hadn’t gone to the constabulary about Finnegan. What could I tell him? I said I’d been remiss. Remiss!” Agitated now, he tears at his short tousled hair with both hands. “If I’d given the police their due, Jimmy would never have had to inform! How on earth can I possibly live with this?”

Margaret’s eyebrows rise, and her tone becomes slightly clipped. She is making a point she doesn’t want Shirley to miss. “Excuse me, Mr. Addam, but I fail to see how you were either stupid or selfish. You told the Times that your assailant reported to Nicky Finn, as I recall the story. You did not name Jimmy to either the police or the Times. You had no way of knowing the ruthlessness these people would employ, as I believe I have said before. You did as seemed best to you at the time, and you did what you thought necessary to protect Jimmy, in not naming him. There are too many “if’s” in your logic, Mr. Addam!”

“Ouch,” Shirley murmurs, the corner of his mouth quirking.

“I say again, you are not responsible for Jimmy’s demise; whomever attacked him bears that guilt. And as for living with it,” her tone gentles considerably, “you learn, and you go on. I have lost patients, when later information showed me where and how I could have saved them. My guilt for their deaths does not bring them back. All I can do is learn, and go on, so that at least their deaths were not wasted. Should, G-d forbid, a similar situation arise in the future, you will not try to protect the innocent solely by your own actions, you will go to the police. It is all you can do now, Shirley.” She lays one hand, very gently, over his.

At her touch Shirley raises his head to look at her. He glances at Esperanza a moment and looks back at Margaret, a question in his eyes. Margaret does not remove her hand; Shirley lays his own over it and presses it. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is. I needed the reminder; thank you for it.” He lets go and shifts into a straighter, more decorous stance on the carriage seat. “I must apologize to you, ladies, both of you. I have not been at my best this evening, after the shockingly difficult day I have had. I assure you both I am not always an intolerable companion, and I shall endeavour to prove as much.”

“You have not been intolerable now, either. You are distraught, distracted and unwell; that is enough to make anyone a little less than polished.” She leans back in her corner of the carriage, to all appearances quite relaxed, and quirks an eyebrow at him for a second.

His shoulders move upwards, then downwards, a bare inch. “I think I hear the river,” he says. “We must be coming to the ferry. Doctor, my Arabic is nonexistent; will you kindly take care of the arrangements?”

“I shall be happy to. Are we going to the ferry’s ultimate terminus, or are there stops on the way, do you know? It will make it easier if I can simply name my destination, leaving no room for misunderstanding.”

“Harston’s butler said that the rails are in order east of Cairo. I thought we would take this ferry there, and then change to the train for speed, to get to Suez and pick up a launch.”

Margaret nods agreement. “Well enough, then. I suspect we should stay together; I’ve acquired a fair command of Arabic over the past few weeks, and languages come very easily to me, but I am by no means fluent yet. If we present ourselves, there can be no mistake about such details as number of passengers or whether we have baggage.” Her smile is, uncharacteristically, a bit self-deprecating. Usually she shows a face of absolute confidence to the world.

“Agreed,” Shirley says simply, and leans down to pick up his valise.

At a convenient moment on the ferry, when Esperanza cannot hear, Shirley murmurs to Margaret, “I hope there is no one who might—suffer some discomfort—should the obvious inference be made about our association. Rest assured you may throw the impudent young barrister over at your discretion.”

She gives him a smile that can only be described as impish, and whispers back, “My family would be delighted. A barrister is respectable at least, and the way I sent the bubble-headed young puppies I was introduced to away has been my mother’s despair.”

“Ah, so there have only been bubble-headed young puppies? Quel dommage. What is wrong with Englishmen, I ask you?”

“Only that most of them can’t see past their own self-important noses. Most of them were so appalled by my ‘unwomanly’ interests that they couldn’t escape fast enough. And then they lament that they are bored in the company of their wives when they marry!”

Shirley, wisely, replies to this only with a brief chuckle.

Wesley Michaels is waiting for Shirley after dinner. The diminutive, energetic young man politely introduces himself, and asks Shirley if he has a moment to answer a few questions regarding the recent unfortunate Incident and its subsequent events.

“Major Harston informed me that you wished to speak to me, Mr. Michaels,” Shirley answers, tired but inflexibly polite. “What does the Times wish to know?”

“I should like to ask you only a few questions, Mr. Addam. I have no wish to delay you. Naturally, I should like to know whether you were indeed unaware of Lady Davies’s wager on the Grand Ellipse.”

“I had no knowledge of any wager on the part of Lady Davies until I read of it in the Times. I do not know even now who is on the other side of the wager, nor its precise terms.”

“Nobody does, Mr. Addam… although I assure you that
it is a matter of considerable interest in certain circles.”

“Indeed?” Shirley raises his eyebrows. “And which circles might those be?”

“Primarily those who have nothing better to talk about, Mr. Addam.”

A laugh breaks through Shirley’s guarded demeanour. “I don’t wonder.”

“I should also like to know, Mr. Addam,” Michaels goes on, flipping a page, “if you intend to continue in the Grand Ellipse.”

Shirley sighs and sits down, leaning his aching head on one hand. “I have indeed had a trying week, Mr. Michaels; I sometimes wish that the Times were not so indefatigable in its production of foreign editions. Although I daresay I should not complain, as Lady Bonnet and Colonel Davis have suffered rather greater difficulties this week than have I.”

Michaels smiles. “I certainly understand the sentiment, Mr. Addam, although I must admit that to share it would put me out of a job.”

“Let me be quite clear. I am indeed dismayed at this entire Addison business. I hope the man and his employer, whoever that may be, are caught quickly, as their machinations present a danger to the entire Ellipse. I shall do whatever is in my power to aid in the capture of Addison and his gang, as I have done since the Ellipse began.”

Mr. Michaels’s fine ear distinguishes the slow, careful deliberation with which Shirley is choosing his words. “I am also saddened at the murder of my former client Pilkington, the more so because he put himself in harm’s way—in all likelihood unnecessarily—for my sake. I should very much like to see those responsible for his death caught, convicted, and punished.”

Shirley straightens in his chair, then leans toward the newspaperman
opposite him. “It is for poor Jimmy Pilkington’s sake, Mr. Michaels, that I intend to continue the Grand Ellipse. I did consider withdrawing from it; I thought of little else coming from Tripoli, as it appears that my character has come into question as a result of the Addison mess. But young Jimmy risked and lost his life, first out of desire to behave in an ethical fashion, and second, out of a gratitude to me entirely disproportionate to any service I ever did him.

“I should be a poor testament indeed to Jimmy’s courage and his upright nature were I to quit now, Mr. Michaels. Therefore I shall not. As for my own difficulties, I can only endeavour to keep my conduct irreproachable, and hope that the truth will out.”

Michaels finishes off his notes with a flourish. “And lastly, were you in London, what would you advise Lady Davies to do?”

“Why, I should naturally advise Lady Davies to cooperate with authorities, as she is by the Times’s account already doing. I think you mistake our relationship, however, Mr. Michaels; I am not Lady Davies’s private solicitor and it is therefore not my privilege to advise her on legal matters.”

“Thank you for clarifying that matter, Mr. Addam,” Michaels says, sounding quite sincere and not at all sarcastic. “Although one friend may often advise another, regardless of professional obligations or lack thereof. If I may ask one final question… after the unfortunate incident in London, why did you choose to go to the Times, rather than the constabulary?”

“Because I wanted the other Ellipsoids warned as quickly as possible, Mr. Michaels, and I thought the Times would accomplish that more effectively than the London constabulary, which is of necessity focused on London alone. You are quite right that I was remiss, however, and no one regrets that more than I.”

“I see… well, I have no wish to delve further into this obviously sensitive subject. Thank you very much for your time, and good luck! Oh, and by the by, Mr. Harris sends his regards.”

“Kind of him. Please offer Mr. Harris and Bertie mine in return, should you have occasion to.” Shirley arises and offers his hand. “I appreciate your forbearance, Mr. Michaels, and I hope I have not been too difficult. A very good evening to you.”

“Mr. Addam, I have had far worse from people in much better straits. It’s been a pleasure, and should you ever find yourself in Alexandria again, please do call upon me. I shall convey your reply to Mr. Harris when I file my story. If you will kindly excuse me, I would like to interview Dr. Byrd as well.”

“Ah, of course. I was not sure you were aware she was here, so I
hesitated to mention her presence. I envy you, Mr. Michaels; she is quite an impressive person. Good evening.”

“I have been looking forward to meeting the good doctor. Good evening, sir.”

(Now that Shirley’s secret is out, I can pass on his character sheet, as I sent it to Li. The Grand Ellipse was run in the GURPS system.)

Mr. Shirley Addam is a barrister in York, having passed the requisite examinations three years previously. Maintained by a patron, Lady Hester Davies, he takes criminal cases involving indigent defendants and greater miscarriages of justice than the usual run. Naturally he is overworked, though his pay is sufficient for him as he desires few amusements.

Shirley has seen a good deal of violence, and approves of it not at all. His parents, keepers of a small millinery shop, were mugged and murdered in the night streets when he was 15. He and his older sister Elizabeth (“Lizzie”) kept the shop running until Lizzie died of influenza three years later, at which point he sold it and used the proceeds to educate himself to the bar.

Shirley is participating in the Grand Ellipse so that the money will fund his practice; should he win, he intends to plead with the Queen for legal assistance for the poor.

Shirley is 25 years old, 5′7″ tall, 135 pounds, undistinguished brown eyes and brown hair (cut short to go under the necessary barrister’s wig). He favors high-collared shirts and fancy ties, is in fact a little bit of a dandy when his finances allow. He knows odd bits and pieces of several languages, since some of his work is on behalf of immigrants, but the only foreign tongue in which he is genuinely fluent is French, which he learned from a Quebecois whom he saved from a robbery conviction.

Here’s the fun part. Shirley is not Shirley. “Mr. Shirley Addam” is in fact Miss Elizabeth Addam, and her true age is 28. The real Shirley Addam died of influenza; since they could not afford a doctor at the time, it was relatively simple to hide who precisely died. “Shirley” studied law partly in order to be able to fudge the records beyond recall, which “he” did very successfully a couple of years back. “He” has passed for seven years. “He” is not sure whether Lady Davies has penetrated “his” disguise or not; if she has, she has said nothing about it, not even hinted.

I don’t have any plans for revealing Shirley’s secret; if “he” manages to pass all the way through the Grand Ellipse, I will be delighted. Let me know what I should do vis-a-vis equipment; I doubt he’d have anything elaborate, just clothes, credentials, writing implements and paper, and perhaps a few phrasebooks.

Stats:

ST 10
DX 10
IQ 14 (45 pts)
HT 11 (10 pts)

Status +2 (10 pts)
Patron: Lady Hester Davies (10 pts)

Advantages:
Empathy (15 pts)
Common Sense (10 pts)
Language Talent, 2 levels (10 pts)

Disadvantages:
Pacifism (self-defense only) (-15 pts)
Sense of Duty (the poor) (-10 pts)

Skills:
Criminology (IQ +2) (6 pts)
Disguise (IQ + 2) (6 pts)
Influence - Diplomacy (IQ + 2) (8 pts)
Law (IQ + 2) (8 pts)
Research (IQ + 2) (6 pts)
Shadowing (IQ + 2) (6 pts)
French (IQ + 2 + 2) (6 pts)

“I do not doubt it,” Shirley agrees courteously, but his expression takes on none of her levity. “Dr. Byrd, your offer is very generous, and I should like to accept, but I truly cannot at this time. Believe me, the reasons I must decline have nothing whatever to do with you or with Esperanza. Pray let me explain.

“On two counts, I think it likely that I have the lion’s share of our Mr. Addison’s attention: first, that of the Ellipsoids I have caused him most trouble to date, and second, that I am the only Ellipsoid on whom a wager is known to have been placed. I am prepared to meet him, as well as I reasonably can be—in fact, I am thinking of employing my interview tonight with the Times to dangle a red cape in front of him, in hopes that he will postpone whatever other plans he may have to deal with me.”

He lowers his voice for Esperanza’s sake. “But I cannot guarantee the safety of anyone travelling with me; I cannot even guarantee my own. I should return poor thanks to your kindness by drawing you into such trouble. And, truthfully, Doctor—I cannot take anything or anyone else onto my conscience just now. The less you see of me, the less you know of me, the better.”

“Now, that said,” he continues in a near-whisper, “I hope you will be not too far ahead of or behind me for the next few legs of our journey. If I am somehow injured, I will need you.”

Margaret holds up her hand. Then she leans forward, both to lower her voice and in emphasis. She is absolutely serious now; there is no hint of her humour of a moment ago. “Mr. Addam, I think you take too much upon yourself. I made the suggestion knowing full well that you consider yourself Mr. Addison’s primary target. That places the consequences, whatever they are, on my conscience, not yours. You are not responsible for my safety and Esperanza’s, I am; and I consider that the potential benefit far outweighs the risk. The Norse had a saying that has come down through their sagas: ‘Bare is brotherless back.’ I can think of no one I would rather have at my back. To be very frank, I suspect I would worry so much about you that I should become a danger to myself. Do you understand?”

“I do, but—”

“I want to help; I want to be in a position to shield you from detection should you be injured; I want to be there to be your shield at least as much as I want you there as mine. Your arguments are rational, and possibly correct, and I consider them all the more reason I would want to be present, at least until these odd incidents cease to hound the footsteps of the Ellipsoids!” Margaret is speaking just above a whisper, but there is no mistaking her passion. “And don’t tell me you’ve done nothing to merit such concern, or that it is misplaced. I am offering what a friend offers; no more and no less. I have not known you long, I realize, but yes, I consider you a friend.”

She takes a deep breath, obviously bringing herself back to her usual restrained manner. “Besides, Mr. Addam, you forget. I work as a physician at the Fleet Charity Hospital, and live nearby. It is hardly a peaceful neighborhood. I have learnt to attend to my own safety there; you need not fear for me so much here. One of the advantages to my training is that I know as well how to take a person apart as well as put him back together. But as I am female, most people discount that.”

“Not I,” Shirley says quietly.

And then, as a sudden thought, Margaret tells him, “I can think of two ways to do this that might satisfy your concerns. One is to travel by the same conveyance, but not openly together. Since we are both known Ellipsoids, that presumes that our opponent does not know me on sight. Or perhaps it is time for Dr. Mark Byrd to travel with his ward, a young Spanish girl. Or I can remain myself. Well, Mr. Addam? Would you please reconsider? I warn you, I may try to stay at near range to you whether we travel together openly or not, and you will find that I can be quite tenacious when I wish to be.” She is sitting still now, with her hands folded, but if Shirley looks, he will see that they are so tightly clasped that the knuckles are white.

Shirley pours two glasses of wine and holds one out to Margaret; he says nothing until she unfolds her hands to take it from him. “I fully intended not to do this,” he says then, disgusted with himself. “No, hear me out, Margaret. Before you decide to accompany me, you must have the whole story. Scotland Yard’s investigation of me was preparatory to making me a temporary operative. Harston is composing a telegram with my acceptance of their terms this very moment, I don’t doubt. The intention, naturally, is to use me as bait for Addison.

“I do not only believe I will be Addison’s target, I am virtually assured of it. No, Margaret, I said hear me out! You should know also that I have no inclination whatever to violence; if we should encounter difficulties that demand it, I will be no help at all. None.”

For the first time, Margaret hears the steely resolve popularly believed to be proper to barristers in Shirley’s words. “Now. If you still wish to travel with me, I must set some conditions that are absolutely closed to negotiation, do you understand? First, you will explain to Esperanza the dangers she is incurring by travelling with me. Before we leave, I will ask her—her, not you—if she has understood and if she is willing; if she is not, you will not accompany me.”

“That is fair. I would have explained it to her in any event, but I do not think you will find that she will shrink any more than I do.”

“Second, until Addison and his associates are dispensed with, I will disembark first and alone when we arrive in an Ellipse station; you will wait until we can be reasonably certain I will not immediately be attacked, or I am in fact attacked—I will not refuse your aid in that case, you see.”

Margaret is silent, but her expression is quite eloquent.

“Third, I must insist that after we arrive in an Ellipse station, we travel separately from the point of arrival to the place where Her Majesty’s representative awaits us.”

“Shirley, that makes no sense! For me to stay at a slight distance would be sensible, but—” she stops. Shirley does not appear to be listening.

“Finally, if Scotland Yard suggests or orders that I travel alone, I must be free to comply with their wishes.”

“Well of course, if you are acting on their behalf. I will ask to see the orders, though.”

“If they are written, I will show them to you. If not, you will have to take my word for it; I promise here and now I shan’t prevaricate.”

Margaret simply nods acceptance of this.

He drains his glass, places it on the tray, and stands up. “I must speak with the reporter now; I intend leaving immediately afterward. If you can meet my conditions, and if you still wish to come with me, you may.”

“I trust that you will allow time for me to speak to the reporter also? I have promised to do so, but I tend not to give lengthy statements.”

“Yes, I will wait. I will wait to see you before I go; you have my word on it. Either way—” his voice softens—“thank you, Margaret dear, and G-d bless you! You are such an extraordinary woman that I rather regret that I am only an ordinary man.”

Without awaiting her reply, he bows to her, nods to Esperanza, and leaves the room. As he goes, she says softly, not knowing if he will hear her: “Not ordinary at all, Shirley Addam. Not ordinary at all.”

They go into the Library. There is a small table, upon which the tray Esperanza was carrying has been placed, with two comfortable chairs on either side. Esperanza herself, however, has not returned. Margaret allows Shirley to seat her, then looks up at him. She is entirely focused on him now, and is not even humming.

Shirley lowers himself slowly into the other chair, and puts his head in his hands. “I might have guessed,” he says, in a voice less deep and resonant than his wont, “that an inappropriate outburst of hysteria would be my unmasking, Dr. Byrd.”

And then Margaret has it. The supraorbital ridge of Shirley’s skull, the jaw, the line of the head and neck—they are all the wrong shape. Now that she looks, knowing what to look for, she finds confirmation in the curve of Shirley’s hip, the waist under the tailored waistcoat.

Whoever “Shirley” is, she is a woman.

Margaret just nods. “It must have been very difficult, wasn’t it? Medicine is a difficult enough profession for a woman to get into. But if you were brilliant, and fascinated by both the law and the good you could do with such training… oh, my. Law is still entirely closed to women. You have my deepest admiration.” It is very clear that she is utterly sincere. Then she grins quite impishly. “I have the clothing and accoutrements to effect a similar transformation in a false compartment in each of my trunks, you know. I can become “Mark” with very little preparation.”

She lays her hand on Shirley’s arm. “But really, it wasn’t the depth of your concern or the emotion it engendered that gave you away. It was physiognomy and anatomy, and I don’t think it would at all obvious to anyone who wasn’t both a physician and intimately aware that a female creature need not be a fragile, shrinking flower. I think your secret is still safe. Certainly it is safe with me.” And then suddenly, wistfully, “I’ve never had a woman friend; I’ve always been too much the odd one because of my pursuits. Please, when we are alone, would you call me Margaret?”

Suddenly tears stand in Shirley’s eyes. “Stop it,” he—she—says ruefully, straightening in the chair in order to reach into a pocket for a handkerchief. “Stop being so kind, Margaret. I haven’t cried in—I hardly know, it must be nearly ten years.

“What a day this has been. I walked into dinner celebrating my narrow escape; Major Harston told me the moment I walked in that Scotland Yard’s been going over my background with a fine-toothed comb. I took care of my legal records myself, of course, quite some time ago, but I’d no idea whether they would stand up to rigourous examination. Apparently they have, though, as Major Harston did not treat me as a lusus naturae.”

Shirley tucks the handkerchief back into a vest pocket. “I was about to tell you to call me Shirley,” she says, “but that is ridiculous on its face. My life is in your hands; I shan’t cavil about my name. It’s Elizabeth. Shirley was my younger brother. I will tell you the story sometime—but I think Esperanza is coming back.”

By the time the young Spaniard has her easel set up, Shirley is once again the mannerly Yorkshire barrister of the pleasantly dark voice. “Now that I consider it further, Doctor, it seems unlikely that Finnegan intended to kill Jimmy from the outset. What about the other assailants? There should have been a wave of murders, but there has been only one. No, the likeliest thing is that Finnegan’s underlings committed the murder, when they learned who betrayed him.

“So, where were we? Yes, quite, events and their motives. The obvious conjecture is that the assaults were an attempt to narrow the field, presumably for the benefit of one contestant. The responsible party might be the contestant, or—as this dreadful business of Lady Hester’s wager demonstrates—someone else with a stake in the results. Or conceivably both, working together or apart; who can say?

“Which contestant? Or is the goal that one particular contestant lose? I don’t know.

“There is another possibility, however, far-fetched though it may be: that the Ellipse is a blind for some intensely secret diplomatic manoeuvre, and the attacks were an attempt to disrupt that, presumably by disrupting the entire race. The ineptitude of the attacks militates against this theory, as does Addison’s history as a trifling man-of-affairs. However, the involvement of Scotland Yard does make me wonder. High though the Ellipse stakes are, I should not have thought them that high.

“The next question is why Addison has left England. He may simply be fleeing Scotland Yard, but in that case I should have gone to the States or South America in his shoes, not Europe. He may wish to exact revenge for his unmasking, in which case I can no doubt expect to hear from him. Or there may yet be hope of him accomplishing his task, whatever that is. That is the possibility that worries me; I wish I could be sure whom he was targeting.”

Margaret frowns thoughtfully for a second. “You know, Mr. Addam, that might not be so far-fetched a theory as it sounds at first blush. If you recall, Her Majesty had her granddaughter Princess Ella with her, although the young lady didn’t speak. I recall reading that the princess been recently betrothed to a Russian duke, though for the life of me I can’t recall which one. Of course, Scotland Yard might also be involved simply of Her Majesty’s patronage of the contest. Since she has given it her public support, I suppose it might be an embarrassment to send out an event that brings disruption and mayhem with it.”

“True. Still, a certain amount of disruption is only to be expected. A dangerous world, Dr. Byrd. As to that—I still must respectfully disagree that the Alexandria explosions are connected to our situation, unless they were truly spectacularly bungled. I checked Lord Harston’s book. The only person to have been caught in the riots was Lord Longsworth-Brunfondle, the first to arrive. But do go on.”

“I’ve been pondering this,” replies the doctor, “and I believe what we may have is a combination of factors. Your patron has placed a wager on you, and possibly on other aspects of the competition. It would surprise me greatly if others of sufficient means and insufficient useful occupation have not done likewise. Some person or persons unknown have taken those bets, and that gives them an interest in the outcome. I would think that both the individual competitors and the order in which they finish might be subjects of interest, and of manipulation by the unscrupulous.”

“I fear I must add a slightly more sinister possibility: that competitors finishing at all may be the subject of a wager. I rather think Lady Davies’s wager must be something similar, though she steadily refuses to inform me on the subject.” He bows toward her slightly. “Given the quality of the field, Lady Davies cannot possibly have cared to risk a large amount on my victory. Her confidence in my finishing the race might well be rather higher. Mark that this also explains why the attempts to inconvenience us thus far have not been dangerous, much less lethal; there has been no need to risk lethal force.” Shirley glances at Esperanza, and then raises his eyebrows at Margaret. That previous attacks were non-lethal is no guarantee for the future. Margaret will understand; Shirley need not frighten the Spanish girl by speaking his thought.

“It may also be that we have some less than honorable co-competitors, who are attempting to improve their position by delaying the rest of us.”

Shirley sighs. “I earnestly hope not, but I cannot discount the possibility. It is perhaps a measure of my naivete, Dr. Byrd, that I entered this contest considering no more hindrances than the ordinary ones of travel.”

The doctor nods. “As for Addison, it seems to me that he would prefer to be the mind behind whatever attempts are made. He might have come to Europe simply because his first attempt to influence matters was so spectacularly unsuccessful, and he wants to be closer at hand.”

“Well, I think it fairly clear he left to evade the Yard; he did not go until Finnegan’s capture imperiled him. But I daresay you are correct about his current aims. We shall hear of him again, I am certain of it. I hope Scotland Yard gets to him first.”

“As do I!” interjects Margaret. “And Mr. Addam? Would you be interested in travelling together for a time? We are well set to observe the proprieties,” she nods toward Esperanza; “and I believe it might provide a measure of safety to each of us.” She looks like she is trying not to laugh outright. “And between us, I would say our ability to think our way out of any situation we might find ourselves in formidable enough to give even Mr. Holmes pause!”

Things are going great guns over at the Grand Ellipse blog. I’ve gotten Shirley all the way to Alexandria and his dinner with Margaret.

If you know nothing about this game but are still curious to read the logs, you should take a look at Li’s Ellipse pages first, to get a sense of the game goals and setup. I’m not being very good about linking to the Times, so you may want to have the Times archive open while you read.

For a sane reading experience, I recommend the category archives, starting with Chapter 1; after some futzing yesterday, I figured out how to get them to appear oldest-post-first.

Some veteran gamers always know the right thing to say at a momentous occasion. I am not one of those gamers. Every once in a while, though, I do manage to make exactly the right words come out of a character’s mouth. So with Shirley, who on leaving Margaret after their fateful dinner together said, “Thank you, Margaret dear, and G-d bless you! You are such an extraordinary woman that I rather regret that I am only an ordinary man.”

Which is just, I am telling you, completely bloody perfect. If you read Chapter 2 you’ll see why.

On her way to dinner, Margaret Byrd has to stop short to keep the library door from striking her as it opens into the corridor.

The young barrister Shirley Addam walks out of the library, a little thinner and rather darker of skin than when they left London. Immediately he sees what has happened. “Why, Dr. Byrd! I do apologize; I did not hear you passing, or I should not have opened the door so quickly. I hope it did not hit you. May I accompany you to the dining room?”

Margaret smiles. “Mr. Shirley, how good to see you, and in such fine form. No need to apologize; no harm was done, and I would be delighted to go to dinner with you. I have many things I would like to discuss with you, so really, this is most serendipitous. Shall we?” And she takes his arm.

Only two places are laid at table. Shirley steers Margaret to one of them and holds her chair for her, without making a major production of it. “Major Harston is otherwise occupied and will not be with us this evening; I fear you will have to make do with me.” He takes the chair opposite; a servant places bowls of bean soup before them.

“I imagine Colonel Barstow gave you my note?”

“Indeed he did, and it gave me great cause for concern. That is one of the things I wished to discuss with you. But first, excuse me while I speak to the servant. I must be sure dinner will be made available to my companion, Esperanza.” She speaks to the servant briefly, then returns. “Good; Esperanza has made friends with the cook already, and is happily chattering away and enchanting the kitchen staff. I imagine she is quite comfortable; her father is Colonel Barstow’s cook, from Gibralter.” She tastes the soup. “Oh, this is lovely. Now, I must tell you that I had an encounter similar to yours. I still have the note the poor hapless man was carrying. I must say, I did wonder if the poor chap spent some time apprenticed to a hatter. He nearly did himself an injury trying to injure me. Really, he seemed almost mentally deficient. Unfortunately, I was unable to get him to tell me who sent him, so I hadn’t followed up on the incident. I have had no untoward experiences since, though. You?”

“You must have been fortunate enough to miss them in Malta. A group of them was posing as protesters on the docks when I arrived. I had the good fortune to have travelled with a truly exceptional ship’s crew, however. They went entirely out of their way to be sure I got to Valetta Palace safely.”

“You know, Mr. Addam, we saw the protesters on the docks in Malta, but they didn’t take any particular notice of us. They did cause the Captain of my ship some consternation, though, and he quite refused to permit us to set foot ashore unescorted. He went with us to sign the register for the contest, and then we sailed on with him to Naples. If they were ruffians looking for the Ellipsoids, they may have been thrown off by the presence of the Captain and Esperanza; they would have been looking for an unaccompanied Englishwoman. Hmmm.” And she ponders for a bit, humming under her breath. After a bit, Shirley may recognize the tune of a popular American music hall tune, “Daisy, Daisy.”

“There is,” Shirley says quietly, “at least some chance they were looking specifically for me. I cannot be sure, as I gave them no opportunity to recognize me. Have you kept up with the Times at all? It appears that the prime mover here is one Mr. Herbert Addison. Scotland Yard is on his trail. He is known to do less-than-savoury business for—well, for the highly-placed. It appears my own patron Lady Davies got mixed up with him somehow, much to my surprise and, I may say, consternation. Addison is still loose, somewhere in the world, and I should think him rather more competent than some of his hires. I do urge you and your companion to take all sensible precautions, Dr. Byrd.” There is no mistaking Shirley’s words and tone for anything other than frank sincerity.

Suddenly Margaret looks up and steeples her fingers. “All right, Mr. Addam, you make sense. I have some questions I should like to put to you, but we may as well be comfortable about it.” She turns and addresses the waiting servant quietly, requesting the next course and tea to drink with it. She does so in Arabic. Then she turns back. “I’ve just asked for the next course and some tea. Everyone has been most assiduous in warning me not to drink the water, and indeed, I’ve no wish to be delayed by dysentery or dyspepsia. Now, first of all, what is the source of your information concerning Mr. Addison? Have you seen a copy of the London Times since our departure? And you were obviously looking for something in the library, and may have found it, judging by your expression when you nearly ran into me. Would you be so kind as to tell me what it is?

“You have endeavoured to put me on my guard, but if I am to be careful and still travel, I need to know what it is I am guarding against. We are indeed competitors, but we are also Englishmen in a strange land, heading into stranger, and that is a greater bond, I should think. Will you help me to the extent of sharing information, Mr. Addam? And if I have any for you, I will surely do the same.” And she tips her head to one side, waiting. She begins to hum quietly again. This time it is from the newly published ballads collected by Francis Childe, “The Three Marys.”

The force of the doctor’s questions and her obvious irritation cause the young man to push himself back from the table a trifle. “Dr. Byrd, I assure you,” he says apologetically, “it was never my intent to hide anything about this sordid business from you. I simply did not know you had not been watching the foreign editions of the Times. They are available in the library for your perusal; I was reading them myself before dinner.” At that last word, the servants re-enter with a steaming pot of tea and the fish course.

“Let me save you some trouble, however, and give you the story.” He explains his connexion with Jimmy Pilkington, and the late-night prowl that led him to Nicholas Finnegan. “Finnegan, so says the Times, was apprehended on the 7th, after a tip from Jimmy as to his whereabouts. After some questioning, Scotland Yard took over the case, connecting Finnegan to the Herbert Addison I mentioned to you a moment ago.

“The Times is cagey on this point, but it appears that the Yard raided Addison’s office, finding there records connecting him to my patron Lady Davies as well as our competitor Lord Longsworth-Brunfondle.” Shirley clears his throat and takes a sip of tea. “I do not in fact know what Lady Davies can have had to do with this man, though a telegram from her awaited me here claiming she had no connexion whatever with Addison’s Ellipsoid business. Longsworth-Brunfondle has claimed in the Times that had he known of Addison’s associates he would have had nothing to do with him.”

Shirley disposes efficiently of half his fish, wipes his mouth, and continues. “When I encountered the protesters on the Maltese docks, I listened to them out of sight while casting about for some way to get off the docks without being seen. They mentioned that they were waiting for Nicholas Finnegan, and that they were being paid for their efforts. I so informed Lord Weatherby, who promised me he would have them questioned.”

He turns his attention to the remainder of the fish, and nods at the servant to take the plate. “So that is where we are, Dr. Byrd. Addison has left England; where he is now no one seems to know precisely. I surmise that he holds a specific rancour toward me, as my interference led to Finnegan’s capture and his own discomfiture; what his other plans may be I know no more than you.”

He leans back in his chair. “Now, I had not known until tonight that there had been attempts on other Ellipsoids as well, though I cannot say that I am wholly surprised by it. It might be wise to leave Major Harston a note to that effect, if you would, though if I were you I should not mention it to the Times nor allow Major Harston to, as you might risk Mr. Addison’s wrath thereby.”

The smell of roast lamb makes itself known to them; Major Harston must have given orders for quite a feast. “May I answer any questions, to excuse my fault and prove my goodwill, Dr. Byrd?” Shirley asks as he allows his plate to be laid before him.

Margaret addresses herself assiduously to her meal for a moment. When she looks up, her expression is rueful and her tone much gentler. “Mr. Addam, it is I who should be offering amends to you. You have been recipient of my irritation with the common attitude of men towards women where the subject of shady dealing is concerned. Most men treat us as children, as fragile creatures who must be protected and shielded, and not as intelligent beings who can and will act in our own behalf if we have the information to do so. I have learned to be overly forceful in order to overcome the instinctual ‘pat on the head’ that seems to be the first response of too many of the males in our society. Please, do forgive me. You have given no indication that your attitude or thoughts are anything of the kind; indeed, you have accorded me the greatest respect intellectually as well as by your manners, and I must admit I find you personally quite charming.” She smiles a little, then turns musing.

Shirley returns her smile, respectful admiration in his eyes. “I can well imagine you have often been provoked. I accept your apology without reservation, and I thank you for your kind opinion of me. I hope indeed we may become friends despite our status as competitors. I should think such a friendship would last longer than this race.”

“As to your advice,” Margaret goes on, “I believe I will not only inform our host of my misadventures in Brighton in light of your experience, but give him a letter to Scotland Yard to enclose with his usual dispatches. While the Times need not know, I believe the authorities should.” She finishes her fish, and turns to sip at her tea, humming again. It sounds like it might be something from HMS Pinafore.

Then she looks up. “Mr. Addam, I’m going to indulge in conjecture here, and I should like your opinion. We were each accosted before we left England, by someone inept but offering the same sort of crude physical violence to induce us to quit. Nothing seemed amiss at Gibraltar, but in Malta protests broke out shortly before we were due to arrive, which may have been aimed specifically at you, and now we find Alexandria disrupted by having its primary rail system dynamited, again immediately before we were due to begin arriving. I add to that that this Mr. Addison apparently has connexions to both your patron and one of our fellow competitors, a man of singularly unpleasant personality who is travelling by a route which is not vulnerable to land-based disruptions. Taken cumulatively, I believe that Mr. Conan-Doyle’s detective Holmes might begin to perceive a pattern. Do you think someone might be trying to disrupt the Ellipse, or the Ellipsoids?”

Just at that moment, the servant presents her with a plate containing lamb surrounded by some sort of grain and fruit dish. After a moment of thought, she decides that this must be couscous. “Oh, my, but this smells heavenly!” And she looks across at Shirley, awaiting his answer.

Shirley is thinking furiously, eyebrows knitted and eyes cast down, as he waits for the servants to leave them be. Margaret takes the opportunity to study his face: sharp-featured, rather thin and high-cheekboned, not at all the caricature of the broad-beamed, heavy-browed Yorkshireman. Something bothers her about his face; she is not sure what. No disfigurement there, certainly. Nor is it the sudden guardedness of his expression; he has every reason to be concerned about the situation they have found themselves in. Something else, something subtle… what?

The barrister glances up, notices her watching him. “I am sorry—lost in my own thoughts. This is indeed a puzzle worthy of Holmes, Dr. Byrd, and I fear I am far from solving it. I will share my thoughts thus far; please correct me where you see fit.

“The line between Jimmy, Finnegan, Addison, and the Malta protesters seems incontrovertible. As yet I have no evidence regarding the Alexandria explosions, and I am inclined right now not to think them part of this; they were too violent, too random, and required rather more than just money and brute human strength to accomplish, unlike the assaults on us and the protest in Malta.

“Leaving that aside, then, who is above Addison in this line of Ellipse-disrupters? The connexion between Addison, my patron, and Lord Longsworth-Brunfondle is by no means clear to me; it may be a bit of trumpery on the part of the Times, or an honest mistake on the part of the Yard. Certainly any papers in Addison’s office concerning plans for the Ellipse would contain the names now being bruited about.

“Now, by all means consider that I am biased with regard to my patron, Doctor, but I cannot believe her responsible for assaults, even false ones, wager or no wager—and it would seem that the Yard agrees, or both she and I would now be in gaol. If she is innocent despite her presence in Addison’s papers, Lord Longsworth may also be; I fully concur with you as to his personal qualities, but I cannot go so far as to blame him for this just yet.

“That leaves us nowhere, really; we cannot know at this point who is directing Addison. So we must consider the occurrences once again, and possible motives for them.

“I cannot imagine that we were the only two Ellipsoids assaulted; there is no connexion between us other than our participation in the race. I think it safe to assume that most, if not all, of the other Ellipsoids were also attacked, and the remaining attacks were unsuccessful as those directed at us.

“Either all the assaults were genuine but incompetent—or they were faked, intentionally bumbled. Why fake so many attacks, though? Each additional fake means an additional man in the plot, a man who can be captured or become an informer as Jimmy in fact did. And the calibre of the Ellipsoids in general, saving my presence, is such that they are unlikely to be frightened off by such intentional foolishness; false attacks make no sense.

“No, Dr. Byrd, I am inclined to think the attacks were real. Finnegan may well have been short of trustworthy hands to carry them out, if the real gang was en route to Malta—or elsewhere.”

“Or,” Margaret points out, “he may have intentionally chosen attackers he thought expendable, regardless of their competence or lack thereof. If his goal was merely to frighten us away, he might not care a great deal what happened to the attackers afterward.”

Shirley’s fork pauses half-raised; he stares at her, dumbstruck. “Dear heaven,” he whispers. “You may be right. May G-d have mercy on my soul.”

“My dear Mr. Addam! Whatever is the matter?”

Shirley lays the fork down and tosses off his glass of wine in a single swallow. The goblet trembles in his hand as he returns it to the table. “Jimmy. Jimmy Pilkington,” Shirley answers in a choked whisper. “He was murdered in London a day after the Times revealed his role in Finnegan’s capture. I did not mention it to you—it did not seem relevant—and G-d help me, I have thought of little else for a week.”

He shudders. “It is bad enough that I did not tell the lad to leave London—I ought to have put him on the train to York myself—but to think that he was a dead man the minute Finnegan tapped him to assault me—this is intolerable!”

Margaret immediately turns to the servant and signals for more wine for Mr. Addam. Then she beckons him over, and asks that he find Esperanza and ask her to come and assist them with the remainder of the meal. Then she turns back to Shirley. “My dear Mr. Addam, your compassion does you great credit.” Her voice is very gentle. “But how were you to know the level of ruthlessness those behind these events would be willing to employ? Hindsight provides perfect vision, but unless we are in the counsels of the Almighty, we cannot know what the future holds. Surely, if Jimmy was an innocent tool, the Almighty will care for his soul. But those who murdered him are responsible for their deed. You cannot be.” Her little chuckle is obviously directed at herself. “We cannot take care of all the world, Mr. Addam… as I have keep trying to remind myself.”

Shirley closes his eyes and wills his hands and his voice to stop shaking. Whatever it is about his face, Margaret finds it yet more apparent now. She almost has the oddity pinned down when he composes himself at last and opens his eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Byrd. I must still blame myself for not warning Jimmy. But you are right; our sphere of individual influence is unfortunately limited.”

She looks down, and changes the subject. “I am not quite willing to dismiss the Alexandria explosions. I should like to know if there has been unrest in the area that has erupted violently before this. Sometimes it takes only a match, if the fuse is already in place. But we cannot resolve that either way just now.”

“I believe there has in fact been unrest, though I do not know of any violence. While you are pondering, however—Major Harston informed me that the ship Lady Bonnet was on was attacked by pirates in the Mediterranean. Just one more datum.”

Esperanza comes in, with a tray containing the dessert, fruit, and more tea. She is openly curious about what has been going on, and on the whole glad to have been summoned. “Ah, Esperanza, my dear! I hope you have been enjoying yourself?” Esperanza agrees that she has. “Now, my dear, I believe that the conversation is going to become such that we would not want the ears of servants unknown to us about. Would you be a dear and take that tray into the Library? Then go and get your painting supplies and return. If you are with us, and I give instructions that you will assist us as we may need, then Mr. Addams and I should be able to talk undisturbed. I trust you not to discuss what you hear with anyone save the two of us, so I would rather have you than anyone else. And I know you have been wishing for the opportunity to paint some of the things you’ve sketched as we sailed.” She smiles, and Esperanza smiles back. They have obviously developed a warm relationship.

Margaret turns back to Shirley. “Mr. Addam? Would you care to retire to the Library? I intend to take my glass and the decanter of this excellent wine along.” She gets up from her chair, and goes around to Shirley. “Come, please. Let us go where we can speak more freely. I do not want the innocent hurt any more than you do.”

Shirley stands up and offers his arm. “There may be an unpleasant surprise in the library, in the form of a reporter from the Times waiting to talk to me, but let us hope that Esperanza can dispose of him, or that he has not yet arrived.”

And as they walk toward the library, she says very quietly, “Mr. Addam, I am indeed an adventurer, but I am also a physician, and trained to observe people from that perspective. Is there something you might wish to discuss? I can assure you that the only people who hold a confidence as closely as a barrister must is a physician. Please, do forgive me if the question is too personal, but be sure it arises only from sincere concern, and I wished to ask you before Esperanza returns.”