TURN FOUR (a)
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| "Professor?" the almost whispered question comes from
Arran as he stands to leave the room, he looks a little embarrassed as
his eyes meet the older man's, "I wonder if I might ask you a quick
question, er in private, on a personal matter?" "Certainly, young man," replies the Professor, leading Arran off to one side as the rest of you move towards the doorway. Worry and empathy crowd for position in Arran's hazel eyes as he looks up at the Professor from their side conversation. He isn't sure how this is going to go, but there was nothing more to do but ask directly since any subtle questions were being evaded or ignored. And given what he'd read, he had to know. "Keep your voice low and don't be angry, please," he half begged the older man, "I have to know and if you don't want to tell anyone else I swear I shall take the fact to my grave with me," he forced a smile, "which may be a lot sooner than I intended." A pause while he ignored the second thoughts. "Professor, has he already bitten or scratched you? The wolf?" Then by way of clarification of his question Arran added, "Your arm, you seem to have some kind of injury or did once. And I read of a potential cure in the book you left us to read." There is a bitter smile on the Professor's face as he looks Arran straight in the eyes. "I have read all of the books in my collection, young man, and I am probably the foremost authority on lycanthropy in the world. My arm was injured in an accident in Rumania and it still bothers me from time to time. I am sure that it will not detract from the work that lies ahead of us tonight. Shall we join the others?". He steps back a pace and motions for Arran to preceed him towards the front door. Arran maintained the gaze, a thoughtful look in his own eyes as he did so. "I wasn't doubting your knowledge or your ability to use your arm," he answered respectfully, then added with the merest of sighs, understating his concern, "but I am worried about you. What happened out there? What accident still haunts you now and do you really expect me to believe that it is totally unconnected?" he regarded the Professor with a mix of respect and query. Another sigh and he continues. "I came to this country looking for my father. He disappeared without a trace leaving me to decode his journal and try and unravel his studies. It would be much easier to find him if I could ask him questions, please don't deny me the answers we might need to help you? I don't ask you for personal gain or mere curiosity, I just want to do anything I can to help." "I am sorry for your loss, " replies the Professor, his eyes showing his genuine sorrow, "but now we must concentrate on the task ahead." While Arran is busy talking to the), and the others have begin to head towards the door, Garibaldi quickly moves to the drawer where the journal on the pretext of being suddenly interested on a trinket near it. He checks to see that the the coast is clear and then turns his back to the group for a second to open the drawer, places his right hand on the journal, then turns to a frontal position to the two groups checking to see that the coast is clear, and finally lifts the journal out while having his back to it and quickly inserts it in his trouser back. Garibaldi then closes the drawer and walks away from it, while tucking his shirt in to better hide the theft, and proceeds to the rest of the party heading outside, fetching his coat and bag along the way. The London streets are filled with the sound of people hurrying about their business, yet there is an element of fear that underlies the usual banter between tradesmen. Rather than stopping to chat about the day's events they are exchanging quick greetings and then continuing their homeward journeys. As the sun continues to sink towards the horizon the shadows lengthen and the once normal streets of Limehouse take on a sinister and dangerous aspect. In spite of the general fear there are still those who ply their trade, desparate to earn the price of a doss house so that they might have shelter from the hazards of the night. Preparations complete, you stop outside the Professor's house to perforn one last check before beginning the night's work. Caine said: "If, Gentlemen, as the Newspapers Profess, the Estimated Time of Death, in every case, has been between the Hours of Twelve and Three, I think, perhaps, it might very well be More Productive for me to wait until Eleven to effect the Masquerade. I shall use My Apartments, in Limehouse, to that end, when the Time has Come." Caine repacked the Luggage and carried One Bag with Him. He then gave each of The Party his Card, with his Limehouse Address upon it. "Should some Unforeseen Need Arise, Sirs, My Manservant, Mister Chin, would be only too happy to offer Hospitality and Assistance to Any of You tonight, at the mere Mention of My Name. Please, Do Not Hesitate. " "I don't suppose anybody was able to find this Andrei character," says Jim Buchanan, before the groups split up. "C'mon, boy." he says to Arran, sounding more resigned and tired, than excited for a hunt. The buckskin rifle case is slung over one shoulder, and his fancy new vest is open, for easy access to the handgun harness beneath it. He has not bothered to change his clothes. "Meet back here at dawn, gentlemen ?" he enquires before he heads out with his two pals, in tow. "Very Good," replied Caine. "I have 'friends' who would have contacted me if he had been found," says Professor Hodgeson, "Since I have heard nothing from them, I must assume that they have been unsuccessful in their endeavours." "Oh," says Jim Buchanan, noncommital. "Well, if we find him, we find him." he says. "I just hope we have the opportunity to stop him....or whomever the creature might be." As the group gets outside before they break-up O'Shaunessy pulls a flask from his inside jacket pocket "Gentlemen to good hunting and a fast conclusion to this nasty business." Looking at Buchanan "And so we don't have to go to battle braced on mere sherry, some good Irish Whiskey." With that he lifts the flask and takes a healthy snort and passes it around to any who care to join him. "I shall Gladly Drink to That," said Caine with a Smile. Looking to Professor Hodgeson and Tyler Kensington-Caine, O'Shaunessy says "Well lets be off, sirs, and and good hunting to us." He slips his flask back into his pocket and heads off. "Indeed, Sir, Indeed," Caine said emphatically. "Come Along, Professor," murmurs Tyler Kensington-Caine as He Gently Guides the Professor with a Hand on His Arm. The Professor seems to shy away from the touch, lmost as thought the other man's touch was hot. Caine noticed this and said: "Please Excuse Me, Professor." The Professor gently extricates himself from Caine's friendly hand and hefts his doctor's bag with his other hand. "I suggest that we walk to the scene of the last murder and then see if we can guess where the fiend will strike next." So saying, he begins to walk into the depths of Limehouse, it's inhabitants and other denizens already lining the pavements and populating the public houses Caine Said in an Enraged Whisper to every Prostitute He Saw: "God's Teeth, Ladies! What in Heaven's Name are You Doing Out of Doors?! The Limehouse Killer Stalks the Streets Tonight! The Night of the Full Moon!! Pray, for Your Own Sakes, Get off the Streets until Dawn! Unless It is Your Fervent Desire to be Found in the Morning, Drawn and Quartered! I Beg You. Here," Caine said as he Proffered Cash, "This Should Help Cushion the Loss of this Evening's Profits. Now Go. Please. Do Not Trifle with Your Lives in This Manner!" All manner of replies are directed back at him by the street toughened young ladies. The most harmless of these dwell on his parentage and the supposed relationship between him and his mother. The offer of cash is gratefully accepted by numerous ladies and seems to have attracted the attention of some of Limehouse's less salubrious characters who begin to follow at a discreet distance. Tyler Kensington-Caine could only Lower His Eyes and Gently Shake His Head in Deep Astonishment and Aching Shame at the Thankless, Thoughtless and Dreadfully Ungrateful Daughters that Noble England, as True and Loving as Any Mother, had Raised. As you walk the Professor turns to you both and says, in a most serious voice, "Gentlemen, if anything should happen to render me unconscious, or incapable of action, I must ask you to open this bag of mine and ensure that I receive the contents of the syringe that you will find in its case. Should I not receive this, my health will fail and it is not inconceviable that death will follow shortly afterwards!" "My Dear Sir, You may Rely on us, "replies Caine, "May I Suggest Dr Haslen of Harley Street? He is Renowned Throughout England as a First Rate Doctor and may Well be able to Help You!" " I'm afraid that the disease has passed too far for any permanent cure, " says the Professor, with another of his sad little smiles. "Professor O'Shaunessy, how do you advise that we proceed from here on in?" Caine replied softly. "Pray, What, Good Sir, if I may be so Bold as to Enquire, is the Nature of this Dread Chronic Condition that would only serve to Perplex and Confound the Most Illustrious and Noble Physician in London, and therefore The World?" " Should we survive this night, I believe all your questions will be answered, " remarks the Professor. "Until then, you would probably not believe my story of the poison that courses through my veins." After about half an hour's walking you arrive at the scene of the last murder. The Professor points out the dark alley in which the young lady had her life ripped from her. His face is sombre.....and possibly there is a trace of guilt in his eyes. He checks his watch and looks relieved to see that it is only just coming up to seven o'clock. Tucking his watch back in his coat he turns to his companions. "As far as anyone could tell, the beast fled that way, " he indicates by pointing down the alley, "but the paw prints stop at the end where the cobbles begin. After that, the police are baffled and I have only theories on which to go." "Perhaps," Caine said, slowly examining the Scene of The Crime, "We would do well to Attempt to Retrace the Path of this Black Bounder's Flight. Professor, Would You Be so Good as to Share Your Theories with Us?" "Certainly, " he points down the alley and across the cobbled road at the other side. "You see that small yard off to one side? There would be nothing to stop the beast stashing some clothing in that yard, luring a girl to this alley, transforming into its other form, slaying her and then running back to the yard, dressing and walking away." He shrugs, as if this was all obvious. "And even If we were to, quite foolishly to be sure, Entertain more Fanciful Notions of a Common, Garden Variety Human Being as Our Vile Culprit, the Necessity of a Clandestine Place to Change from his Bloody Clothes, before Effecting His Escape, is Not entirely Out of the Question," Caine said as he Approached the Yard. He looked about Carefully. "Gentlemen," Caine said, Pointing Elegantly with His Black Stick, "Would you Please Have A Look Here. The Ground appears, to my admittedly Inexpert Eyes, to have been Trod Upon by any Number of Men or Beasts, but None, it would seem, were so Accommodating or Considerate as to Leave a Single Clear Print." Caine lowered the Center of His Brow and said: "This Shalko, I dare say, Must have Employment somewhere. Good Professor, Does He Possess any Skills or Experience, Outside of Academia, that would Guide Him to a Specific Field from which to secure a Position?" "I would think not, he was a minor academic in Rumania. I cannot conceive of him being offered employment in the capital, unless it was as an unskilled labourer. Although, he would not even have to work if he threw himself upon the charity of the church. They have a mission for homeless people not far from my house...." His voice tails off as a thought occurs to him. "Surely not.... " Caine said: "A Visit to this Mission for the Downtrodden, May, conceivably, be In Order. The Hour is still Young. To put Our Best Foot Forward in this delicate Angle of Investigation, Might not One, or more of us, attempt, through yet further Disguise and Subterfuge, to Pass Ourselves Off as Deserving Unfortunates Seeking the Services and Shelter that Such a Charity May have to Offer?" "It is a good idea, which of us shall play the part? "asks the Professor, "I fear that Shalko would recognise me, no matter how cunning the disguise." Caine's Voice proceeded quietly from the center of a Small Smile. "I would be Honoured. I have had Some Small Experience, Gentlemen, I Assure You, with Performance and the Stage. And Yet the Stature and Brogue of Professor O'Shaunessy would conspire wonderfully, I am certain, to Make Him a Decidedly Effective Candidate. Either Choice would allow The Other Two to Continue to Safely Further Our Investigations out of doors, or, perhaps, to Stand at the Ready, Nearby the Mission, Should Our Undercover Man unexpectedly require Assistance of a Timely Nature." "I could arrange Suitable Rainments for a Role as a Beggar from my Apartments, and, in case we Lose Sight of Each Other, We could Plan to Rendezvous there again at Half past Eleven, if we have yet to meet with success. What are Your Feelings, Good Sir, in this Matter?" Caine asked O'Shaunessy "I concur, Sir" is O'Shaunessy's quiet reply. |