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“That depends on whether you expect to find her there.”
“It’s not a rooming house, is it?”
He chokes on a laugh. “No, it is not. It’s…” He glances over at Isla. “You may wish me to summon a hansom to take you home, Mrs. Ballantyne.”
She arches a brow. “Because whatever Halton House is, it is not a place for a lady?”
“Yes.”
“Then our evening has become infinitely more exciting. Lead on.”
NINETEEN
Simon takes us through the streets of the Old Town until we draw near the neighborhood of Burns’s favorite public house. I expect Simon to take us to some seedy dive, but the building we approach is in decent shape, even with several stories of apartments piled above it.
The ground level is Halton House, and itisa rooming house. Or that’s what the sign insists, along with one that saysNO ROOMS TO LET, its distinct layer of dust suggesting there are never rooms to let.
Inside, we find what looks like an inn, complete with a front desk and an older woman writing in a ledger. When we enter, she barely glances up.
“We’re full, lad. You’ll need to take your friends elsewhere.”
There is no sarcastic twist on the word “friends.” She thinks Simon is looking for a bed for three, and she places no judgment on that.
The lobby smells of lavender, but under it, cheroot smoke permeates the place. A low rumble sounds from below, one I hadn’t noticed until everything went quiet. I pretend not to hear it, even when a thump follows.
“We’ve been told to ask for Jack,” I say.
The desk clerk’s head rises at that, and she peers at me, and then puts on a pair of spectacles and peers some more. When she looks at Isla, her frown deepens. I told Isla to “dress down” for this excursion, but that only means she’s wearing the dress that she uses in the laboratory. Like all her late-mourning wear, it’s a shade of gray, and very simple, with nothingmore than a bit of pretty black and silver trim above the cuffs and hem. It’s still exquisite workmanship, and in this time period, another woman is going to recognize that.
“You don’t belong here, lasses.” She turns to Simon. “Take them on back to the New Town. This isn’t a stop on Black’s walking tour.”
“As I said, I was told to ask for Jack,” I say, firmer.
“I do not know who you mean.”
“If she is around, then please tell her it is Dr. Gray’s assistant, Mallory. If she is not, then I would like to leave a message, and I believe she will want to receive it.”
Her look changes as soon as I say “she.” It’s appraising now.
A rustling has me looking over to see Isla opening her purse. I subtly shake my head. Here, too, is where she lacks her brother’s experience. Gray knows when and how to offer a bribe, and she only knows that it works when he does it.
“Dr. Gray, you say?” the woman says.
“Yes, of Robert Street. My name is Mallory.”
“Bob!” the woman barks, loud enough that we all give a start. She has to call again before a door down the hall opens. Someone whoops in the basement, and a cheer rings out.
The woman glowers at the boy hurrying her way. “Did I not tell you to close the door behind you?” She turns to us. “You will have to excuse the noise, ladies. They are having a game of cards downstairs.”
“Cards?” I say. “I’d heard this was a fight club. Oh, right, I forgot the first rule of fight club. Don’t talk about fight club.”
Simon glances over. “Is there a second rule?”
“Yep. Don’t talk about fight club.”
“In case one missed the first rule?”
“Exactly.” I turn to the woman at the desk. “Any chance we can see the ‘card game,’ since we already know the first and second rules?”
