He intercepted his quarry coming out of the grand building where he now lived on Wemyss Place. James Duncan was unquestionably a bright and gifted doctor, but one who had an arrestingly high opinion of himself and who was impatient for the renown he felt was inevitably his due. He had famously been something of a prodigy, having procured special dispensation to allow him to gain his MD at the age of only twenty. He had then continued his studies in Paris, making use of his fluent French, into which he had translated one of Dr Simpson’s papers on the use of ether. Raven knew these details because he had been repeatedly availed of them when they worked together at 52 Queen Street.

Despite his obvious pride in having advanced so far so young, he had always struck Raven as a man in a hurry to seem older. To that end, since last Raven saw him, he had attempted to grow a beard. This undertaking had met with a success sufficiently partial as to merely draw attention to his difficulty in completing the project. He wore a three-piece tweed suit that looked expensive and seemed not so much the style of an older man as of a bygone era. Raven suspected this was merely affectation rather than lack of attention to current fashions. Much like the ‘Matthews’ he had, in Raven’s opinion, unnecessarily appended to his name, it was an attempt to seem more august and distinguished.

‘Dr Matthews Duncan, I would trouble you for a brief word.’

Raven hailed him using his augmented moniker, having decided upon a strategy of flattery and friendliness. Given the man’s dismal social graces, it would not serve to be confrontational.

Duncan sighed, indicating he was a busy man and that such an interruption had better be of valuable import.

‘Very well. And you are?’

When they last saw one another, Raven had himself worn a beard to hide the swelling and stitches upon his recently ravaged face. Nonetheless, he had no doubt that Duncan recognised him without it. He masked his annoyance behind a warm and enthusiastic smile.

‘I have not been away so long, surely, James. I’m Will Raven. We worked together at Queen Street.’

‘Of course, yes. Will Raven. You must forgive me my confusion. I have had so many apprentices working under me that it can be hard to keep track.’

Raven noted the implication that he’d been Duncan’s apprentice rather than Simpson’s. Duncan then proceeded to tell Raven how his own practice was now well established and expanding at such a rate that he thought he might have to recruit an assistant.

Belatedly he appeared to remember that Raven must have had some purpose for apprehending him.

‘I believe you had an enquiry. Are you looking for a position?’

He said this in a weary tone, as though it was a bore to be fending off would-be assistants.