“Experimentation is one of my passions,” the professor replied. “Surely you won’t hold that too much against me?”

“If I had my way, I’d hold this against your throat.” Candlelight jumped off the blade as Hudson picked it up and aimed it in Fell’s direction.

“Your way,” said Fell, “has brought you and Miss Grigsby here. I think your way is not as successful as you would desire.” He sat down, carefully unfolded the red napkin at his setting and placed it in his lap, and by the light of the tapers Hudson had the opportunity to study this man who had caused such death and destruction to the New World as well as to the Old.

Professor Fell was a mulatto, light of skin. His long-jawed and high-cheekboned face could have been described as gaunt, but that word might put too much flesh upon it. Hudson considered that the professor looked like a man whose misdeeds had caught up with him, and the violence of the storms within were contorting his bones just as the wind off the sea had blown the trees outside into grotesque shapes. On either side of the purple skullcap tight white curls of hair bloomed out like the wings of a snowy owl. Blue veins laced his hands; perhaps they trembled just the slightest with palsy, or mayhap it was a trick of the light.

Professor Fell smiled, and thereupon Hudson caught the glint of teeth. He saw in the deep hollows of the strangely luminous amber orbs of the man’s eyes not a palsied and weary wisp but something of an animal—a king of beasts, as it were, who had gained his position of royalty with his intelligence and his cunning, and used the brute strength of lesser men for the jobs that involved blood and guts. It was in the way the professor was examining him, even as he examined the professor; Hudson had the impression that behind the lined face the wheels were turning so fast the friction might soon make Fell snort smoke, and it would drift slowly down the length of the table and wrap itself around Hudson’s head like an envelope of fine spider webbing.

Fell placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. Hudson thought that whatever the professor had been thinking, a decision had been made.

“I understand,” said Fell, “that late last night you caused quite a scene by destroying most of the furnishings of your house and throwing the sticks into the street.”

“Correct.”

“Impatience does no one any good, Hudson. May I call you that?” He went on without waiting for a response. “You were going to be allowed to see Miss Grigsby today anyway. Now you’ll be sleeping on a cold floor for your efforts.”

“I’ve slept on cold floors before.”

“I’m sure.” The amber eyes were both piercing and entrancing. “You’re not fearful of me in the least, are you?”

“I’ve worn my fear shirt to shreds,” said Hudson. “Thanks to you, and whatever drug your people pricked me with.”