“What about the others?” Hudson asked, with an expression of genuine concern for the man who had been tasked to not only share this room but keep watch on him so all remained in order until their ship sailed in four mornings. “I wouldn’t want to run into any of them and have them tell the professor the extremely wild and dangerous Hudson Greathouse was let loose to roam around.”

“They’re all likely asleep by now too. Hell, I’m not used to late nights!”

“Hm,” said Hudson. He glanced at Guinnessey’s thin legs. The man himself was no raging bull. The scheme of the day seemed to have worked. “Then I have your permission to cross the street to the Old Crock and have one drink? After which I shall return as meekly as a little child attending the Sabbath?”

“Yes! Just go and quit jabberin’! I’m near fallin’ asleep myself.”

“If you insist. May I have some money?”

“How much?”

“Oh, four shillings ought to do it.”

“Four shillin’s? You gonna get a bottle and a side of beef? Damn!” Guinnessey hauled himself off the sofa and, wincing with every step, hobbled to the table where his pouch of money lay. He unbuttoned it and held out the coins. “Take ’em and go on.”

“Thank you, sir.” Hudson received the money, shrugged into the new leather coat with its fleece lining and hood he’d bought today with shillings from the same pouch—actually Professor Fell’s money, but who was counting?—and he dropped his newfound fortune into a pocket. He put on the new black leather gloves he had also purchased today in their hours-long shopping trip back and forth along the fashionable streets around the Emerald Inn, the same trip that had been calculated to wear out the legs of Hugh Guinnessey and make this late-night venture possible. Hudson’s watchdog had begun to howl and moan around noon, but Hudson had been adamant in finding an entire wardrobe of new clothes for the forthcoming trip to Italy. It wouldn’t do to look like a common ragamuffin aboard a privately-chartered ship, would it? Anyway, what was there to do in London but eat, drink and buy clothes at the most expensive and far-flung shops that could be found, and devil take the passing cabs because exercise in this sharp, cold and bracing January air was good for a body.

Guinnessey groaned as he worked himself back on the sofa. “Bring me the change,” he said.

“Surely. No need for me to take the key. I’ll return in half a shake of a pig’s tail.”

“Listen,” Guinnessey said as Hudson started out into the lamp-lit hallway. “Just to the Old Crock and no further. I mean it. If he knew I was lettin’ you run free it would be my neck.”