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Back The Short Forever Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
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  61. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  62. AUTHOR’S NOTE

“How do you know?”

“I can just tell.”

“You’re a woman of many talents,” he said.

“I thought you already knew that.”

“I had forgotten how many.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m going to remind you.”

25

THEY DRESSED FOR DINNER AND DINED in a smaller room than last time, at a round table, the heavy curtains drawn to shut out the night, in the English fashion. Stone didn’t understand why the Brits did that; he enjoyed the long summer twilights.

The talk ranged through politics, sport, and the relationship between the English and the Americans. Stone noticed that Lord and Lady Wight, during this part of the conversation, seemed to feel that Lance was on their side of things, while Stone and Erica occupied the other. It was as Sarah had said; the Brits were very comfortable with Lance, considering him one of their own. Stone couldn’t figure out why.

Port was served with Stilton at the end of the meal, and Stone sipped warily from his glass, his hangover having only just disappeared. At some invisible signal, the ladies rose and left the room. Stone nearly went with them, but Lance signaled him to stay.

“Over here, the ladies go somewhere, and the gentlemen stick around for cigars,” Lance explained, lighting something Cuban.

Stone despised cigars—smoking them or smelling somebody else smoking them.

Wight did not light a cigar, but sniffed at Lance’s. “My doctor has taken me off them,” he said. “Bloody cruel, if you ask me.” He looked at a pocket watch from his waistcoat. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’m turning in early. My respects to the ladies.” He got up and left.

They sat quietly for a moment, Stone playing with his port, Lance puffing his cigar and staring at the windows, as if he could see through the thick drapes and out into the night.

“You asked me a strange question the other day,” he said finally. “I’d like to know why.”

“About Hedger?”

Lance nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I have a lot to tell you about that,” Stone said.

Lance waved the cigar, as if motioning him onward.

“Last week a man showed up in my office, recommended by Woodman and Weld, and introduced himself as John Bartholomew.”

Lance shot him a glance.

“I take it you understand the significance of that name,” Stone said.

Lance shrugged slightly.

“He told me that he was concerned about his favorite niece—his dead sister’s child—that she had run off to England with someone of whom he suspected evil things. He retained me to come over here and see if I could disentangle the girl from the clutches of this ogre. Normally, I wouldn’t take on such an assignment, but he had passed muster with Woodman and Weld, and they had urged me to help him, so I came.”