Hands jammed in the pockets of the trousers he lifted, Jack's top hat is tilted forward, creating a shadow over his blue eye and the patch which is back in place.
"We're going in there..." Jack's chin moves up as if it were pointing.
Following his friend's gaze, Warren looks across the wide street area; they're standing at the Y intersection again.
"Are you quite serious?" Warren turns his head to see if his companion is having a joke at his expense.
"You're a Bobby, should be simple."
Jack chews the inside of his lower lip as he plays with the key to their room in his left pocket.
"I was, past... well, future... this isn't 1888 or have you forgotten?" Warren whispers out the side of his mouth as he tips his hat and smiles at passersby.
"My dear fellow, you can get us in and I'll be your sidekick." Jack grins, "The game is afoot!"
Stepping off the curb, Jack navigates the filth of the streets, carriages, and carts with Warren trailing after him.
"I say... I say..." Holding onto his felt bowler, the 'future' detective attempts to jog to catch up with his fast moving friend. "I say old-man... how in the devil are you my... sidekick? Pray, tell what manner are you referring?"
Jack rolls his eye, being from a far distant future and other worldly, he sometimes finds the past tedious. Pointing to his own temple, he retorts.
"Use that clever head my friend, you are the lead and I follow you."
"You're never referring to dancing, that's just not done, not with men."
"Oh, for the love of Pete. You silly oaf; I will play your assistant, your junior, and you will say your visiting to inspect the prison."
"Oh. Right. I see."
Jack jams his hands back in this pockets again and frowns at Warren as he slowly rocks back and forth on his boot heels; he's a bit disappointed with the detective.
The gate to the prison is about 150 yards away; uniformed guards are just inside the large, ornate locked gates. Concrete blocks create two pillars on either side and then repeat, with a short concrete wall and wrought iron bars to complete the security surrounding the vast property.
"When are we doing this?"
"Now, unless you have a pressing engagement, with that girl back at our lodgings." Jack's lack of sleep renders him charmless and crude.
Warren took offense to Jack's tone and responded in kind.
"Highly unlikely... besides, you do not look respectable."
Jack laughed in annoyance. "What?! Do I need to wear a bow-tie?"
Warren glares, "You need to shave. Try running a comb through your hair and get that shirt pressed."
A quirky smile slips across Jack's unshaven face.
"Well, if I didn't know better... I'd say you cared about your 'ol pal Jack."
Turning on his heel, the frumpy time traveler trots back across the street, leaving his surprised companion standing on the sidewalk.
"By thunder! He is rather vexing at times." Warren exclaims as he too heads back to the Public House; at this rate, it'll be lunch before they can get their 'act' together.
20170128
20161110
Unorthodox Orderly
Dr. Jeykell made his early morning rounds visiting patients and checking with his staff on the progress of several 'severe' cases.
One man, in particular, was admitted for severe depression and bouts of unprovoked violence. He was sedated, heavily, most of the time, but the doctor wanted to discover what triggered the unpredictable emotional outbursts.
"How are we feeling today Mr. Henshaw?"
The man lifted his head like it was a forty pound weight on a thin reed. His speech slow and deliberate.
"Not...to...well...Dr....Jey..kell." He said with a sad voice.
Taking the man's pulse, the doctor nods.
"Would you enjoy being outside, maybe sit, in the garden with a nurse?"
Dr. Jeykell was thinking of Grace and the calming affect she seemed to have with a few of the challenging, long-term residents.
As if on cue, Grace enters the room, all in crisp white linen, her hair tied up in a braided bun at the nap of her neck. Quietly, she came to the man's side; placing a hand on the slumped shoulder.
Her voice low and soothing, "Good morning Mr. Henshaw, my name is Grace. Would you enjoy sitting with me, out in the garden for a little bit?"
The doctor smiled at Grace; he enjoys her company and wished she'd stay on at St. Luke's.
"Hello...Grace...I...would...like...that."
Henshaw tried to smile, but his facial muscles didn't seem to work right, probably the drugs, so he looked angry and not pleased like he felt.
Two male orderlys helped the man in to a wooden wheel chair that had a tall cane support and large wheels at the back. Placing a wool blanket over his knees, Grace wheels him down the long white hall towards the french doors leading outside.
Giving instructions to one of the orderlys, Dr. Jeykell continues with his rounds.
Burt follows after Grace to make sure Mr. Henshaw doesn't hurt her or anyone else. He too likes Grace, but she hardly engages with any of the staff, only the patients get her full attention.
For nearly half an hour all is well in the colorful garden for the trio, but when Burt decides to get closer and engage Grace in conversation, Mr. Henshaw starts to get agitated.
"I was wonder'n Miss Grace, if you would like to..."
Burt didn't get to finish as Henshaw suddenly jumped up, attempting to lunge towards Burt. Grace sensed the issue and was prepared; having stepped between the two men, she focused on Henshaw; her eyes changing color as she spoke.
"Be easy, no one is threatening you." Her hands out and open, standing her ground, "Don't interfere, orderly."
Shocked, Burt stopped a moment, behind her; unsure if he should ignore her demand.
Henshaw wild-eyed and drooling, was clenching his fists; gibberish was all he could manage.
"Back away orderly, now." Her voice commanding as he stepped closer to the menacing patient.
Burt, afraid he'd get fired, stepped around Grace, attempting to subdue the out-of-control patient.
Instinct kicking in, Henshaw clawed at the large man, nails going for the soft facial tissue. Burt yelped as his cheek bled and he wrestled the smaller man to the ground in a choke hold.
Grace was furious, but it was too late to stop the violence. Two more orderlys came from inside the institution, followed by Dr. Jeykell.
Henshaw subdued and sedated, he's pushed back to his room and a straight jacket applied. Burt and Grace stand in the doctor's office waiting for their opportunity to speak.
Norman saunters in and sits in one of the tufted guest chairs, he's bored, antsy to get into the secret lab he has yet to discover.
"What exactly happened to set off Mr. Henshaw nurse."
Without any sympathy for the injured orderly, Grace flatly explained. "Everything was fine until this orderly decided to chat me up. Mr. Henshaw felt threatened and got up. All would have been fine, if my instructions had been complied with."
Burt disagreed and didn't wait to be called on. "She had no business gett'n between us, it just made the patient attack me." He exclaimed.
Dr. Jeykell was annoyed by his employee's impertinence and showed his displeasure.
"My instructions were clear and the nurse was in charge, next time you fail to do as told...I will not tolerate disobedience." With a wave of his hand he dismissed them.
Grace followed Burt out and went the other direction, to avoid any further conflict.
With hands folded in front of his mouth, Norman smirks; he was sorry he missed the scuffle in the garden.
"Seems our Grace has stirred up that young man... he'd better watch out, she's not your ordinary female."
With eyes narrowed, Dr. Jeykell looks at the amused man sitting across from him.
"You strike me as not being the typical, ordinary man... Dr. Namron. You may be of interest after all."
One man, in particular, was admitted for severe depression and bouts of unprovoked violence. He was sedated, heavily, most of the time, but the doctor wanted to discover what triggered the unpredictable emotional outbursts.
"How are we feeling today Mr. Henshaw?"
The man lifted his head like it was a forty pound weight on a thin reed. His speech slow and deliberate.
"Not...to...well...Dr....Jey..kell." He said with a sad voice.
Taking the man's pulse, the doctor nods.
"Would you enjoy being outside, maybe sit, in the garden with a nurse?"
Dr. Jeykell was thinking of Grace and the calming affect she seemed to have with a few of the challenging, long-term residents.
As if on cue, Grace enters the room, all in crisp white linen, her hair tied up in a braided bun at the nap of her neck. Quietly, she came to the man's side; placing a hand on the slumped shoulder.
Her voice low and soothing, "Good morning Mr. Henshaw, my name is Grace. Would you enjoy sitting with me, out in the garden for a little bit?"
The doctor smiled at Grace; he enjoys her company and wished she'd stay on at St. Luke's.
"Hello...Grace...I...would...like...that."
Henshaw tried to smile, but his facial muscles didn't seem to work right, probably the drugs, so he looked angry and not pleased like he felt.
Two male orderlys helped the man in to a wooden wheel chair that had a tall cane support and large wheels at the back. Placing a wool blanket over his knees, Grace wheels him down the long white hall towards the french doors leading outside.
Giving instructions to one of the orderlys, Dr. Jeykell continues with his rounds.
Burt follows after Grace to make sure Mr. Henshaw doesn't hurt her or anyone else. He too likes Grace, but she hardly engages with any of the staff, only the patients get her full attention.
For nearly half an hour all is well in the colorful garden for the trio, but when Burt decides to get closer and engage Grace in conversation, Mr. Henshaw starts to get agitated.
"I was wonder'n Miss Grace, if you would like to..."
Burt didn't get to finish as Henshaw suddenly jumped up, attempting to lunge towards Burt. Grace sensed the issue and was prepared; having stepped between the two men, she focused on Henshaw; her eyes changing color as she spoke.
"Be easy, no one is threatening you." Her hands out and open, standing her ground, "Don't interfere, orderly."
Shocked, Burt stopped a moment, behind her; unsure if he should ignore her demand.
Henshaw wild-eyed and drooling, was clenching his fists; gibberish was all he could manage.
"Back away orderly, now." Her voice commanding as he stepped closer to the menacing patient.
Burt, afraid he'd get fired, stepped around Grace, attempting to subdue the out-of-control patient.
Instinct kicking in, Henshaw clawed at the large man, nails going for the soft facial tissue. Burt yelped as his cheek bled and he wrestled the smaller man to the ground in a choke hold.
Grace was furious, but it was too late to stop the violence. Two more orderlys came from inside the institution, followed by Dr. Jeykell.
Henshaw subdued and sedated, he's pushed back to his room and a straight jacket applied. Burt and Grace stand in the doctor's office waiting for their opportunity to speak.
Norman saunters in and sits in one of the tufted guest chairs, he's bored, antsy to get into the secret lab he has yet to discover.
"What exactly happened to set off Mr. Henshaw nurse."
Without any sympathy for the injured orderly, Grace flatly explained. "Everything was fine until this orderly decided to chat me up. Mr. Henshaw felt threatened and got up. All would have been fine, if my instructions had been complied with."
Burt disagreed and didn't wait to be called on. "She had no business gett'n between us, it just made the patient attack me." He exclaimed.
Dr. Jeykell was annoyed by his employee's impertinence and showed his displeasure.
"My instructions were clear and the nurse was in charge, next time you fail to do as told...I will not tolerate disobedience." With a wave of his hand he dismissed them.
Grace followed Burt out and went the other direction, to avoid any further conflict.
With hands folded in front of his mouth, Norman smirks; he was sorry he missed the scuffle in the garden.
"Seems our Grace has stirred up that young man... he'd better watch out, she's not your ordinary female."
With eyes narrowed, Dr. Jeykell looks at the amused man sitting across from him.
"You strike me as not being the typical, ordinary man... Dr. Namron. You may be of interest after all."
20161102
Wash and Brush Up
Mr. Croup had prepared tea and a full English breakfast of bacon, sausage, poached eggs, grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, and toast for his guests.
Warren was exactly on time; 7 a.m., on the dot, smartly dressed in one of the two suits he had packed. The maid, which was Croup's niece, Adaline, had brought up some hot basin water at 6:30. Warren was happy to shave, feeling like a respectable man again.
Jack was still asleep, he'd been up most of the night looking at maps. His eating habits were odd anyway.
"Will your companion be joining you?" Mr. Croup looked unconcerned, just curious about the strange stranger.
"I have my doubts. He's a man that follows a calling most can't hear." Warren sipped his tea, smiling.
Adaline served the breakfast,she did all the odd jobs, lingering for a moment as she gazed at the dashing young man.
"Would you be need'n any'ting else... sir?" She said with sugar in her voice.
Jack suddenly appeared behind her, giving her a start, when his deep voice rumbles the cozy space.
"Oh, he does, but you see before you a gentleman." Jack smirks at his friend, sitting down across from Warren grabbing a piece of toast.
The small fire crackles and sizzles as the girl's eyes go wide. She'd never heard such talk from gentlemen; that kind of frank talk was expected at the docks or certain parts of London and with a different class of men.
Jack was so different from Warren; dark hair, pale skin, and a few errant freckles. He hadn't made an effort in his dress; in fact, he looked as though he'd crawled out of bed and walked downstairs.
"Sir." She pursed those plump lips and left the room to get his plate.
"Honestly, my dear Jack, you do make an entrance to unsettle the orderly world." Warren spread jelly on the last piece of toast.
Scoffing as he poured a cuppa, Jack raised a brow at his logical friend.
"The world is hardly 'orderly'. Chaos reigns and I need to whip it."
Adaline walked in and her eyes went wide again as she caught the end of Jack's comment.
"Do you gents require... would you care for..." She stammered and both men looked at her, causing her cherub cheeks to flush.
"More toast and tea, please Adaline." Warren said warmly; he'd heard her Uncle call her by name.
She dashed back to the small kitchen, her heart in a flutter.
Mr.Croup looked at his niece. "What's go you in a tizzy?"
Wiping her hands, Adaline prepares toast and tea. "Not'ting Uncle." Straightening her dress, she watched the toast as it turned golden over the open fire. Trying to seem uninterested, she avoided looking at her Uncle as she stacked the toast in a small white cotton towel, keeping them warm.
"How... how long them two stay'n?"
The kettle whistled.
"Ah, said a fort-night, maybe longer. Why?" Croup was drying glasses and smiled at the young girl.
Grabbing the tray, exiting the small, tidy kitchen she nonchalantly
replied, "Oh... just wanted to know, so as I can do it up proper for 'em."
Shaking his head, Croup followed with a large crate of clean bar glasses. "Mind your manners girl."
Jack and Warren were deep in conversation when the young, eager to please, woman set down the refresh of tea and toast, in fact, they ignored her; making her depart with an upturned nose.
"What is our agenda?" Warren knew Jack always had some kind of plan brewing. "You must have slept for 5-minutes, at least you look it." He was concerned about Jack's habits.
"I didn't let you come along, so you could lecture me." Jack's tone was a bit terse.
"Someone needs to be watchful, you seem oblivious."
Leaning back, Jack rubs his chin, he hadn't shaved yet. Amused by the concern, he humors the fair-haired man seated across from him.
"Mark my words, you'll see why I am 'oblivious'... everyday challenges will become inconsequential."
Warren smiled wide, "We'll see, we'll...see."
Warren was exactly on time; 7 a.m., on the dot, smartly dressed in one of the two suits he had packed. The maid, which was Croup's niece, Adaline, had brought up some hot basin water at 6:30. Warren was happy to shave, feeling like a respectable man again.
Jack was still asleep, he'd been up most of the night looking at maps. His eating habits were odd anyway.
"Will your companion be joining you?" Mr. Croup looked unconcerned, just curious about the strange stranger.
"I have my doubts. He's a man that follows a calling most can't hear." Warren sipped his tea, smiling.
Adaline served the breakfast,she did all the odd jobs, lingering for a moment as she gazed at the dashing young man.
"Would you be need'n any'ting else... sir?" She said with sugar in her voice.
Jack suddenly appeared behind her, giving her a start, when his deep voice rumbles the cozy space.
"Oh, he does, but you see before you a gentleman." Jack smirks at his friend, sitting down across from Warren grabbing a piece of toast.
The small fire crackles and sizzles as the girl's eyes go wide. She'd never heard such talk from gentlemen; that kind of frank talk was expected at the docks or certain parts of London and with a different class of men.
Jack was so different from Warren; dark hair, pale skin, and a few errant freckles. He hadn't made an effort in his dress; in fact, he looked as though he'd crawled out of bed and walked downstairs.
"Sir." She pursed those plump lips and left the room to get his plate.
"Honestly, my dear Jack, you do make an entrance to unsettle the orderly world." Warren spread jelly on the last piece of toast.
Scoffing as he poured a cuppa, Jack raised a brow at his logical friend.
"The world is hardly 'orderly'. Chaos reigns and I need to whip it."
Adaline walked in and her eyes went wide again as she caught the end of Jack's comment.
"Do you gents require... would you care for..." She stammered and both men looked at her, causing her cherub cheeks to flush.
"More toast and tea, please Adaline." Warren said warmly; he'd heard her Uncle call her by name.
She dashed back to the small kitchen, her heart in a flutter.
Mr.Croup looked at his niece. "What's go you in a tizzy?"
Wiping her hands, Adaline prepares toast and tea. "Not'ting Uncle." Straightening her dress, she watched the toast as it turned golden over the open fire. Trying to seem uninterested, she avoided looking at her Uncle as she stacked the toast in a small white cotton towel, keeping them warm.
"How... how long them two stay'n?"
The kettle whistled.
"Ah, said a fort-night, maybe longer. Why?" Croup was drying glasses and smiled at the young girl.
Grabbing the tray, exiting the small, tidy kitchen she nonchalantly
replied, "Oh... just wanted to know, so as I can do it up proper for 'em."
Shaking his head, Croup followed with a large crate of clean bar glasses. "Mind your manners girl."
Jack and Warren were deep in conversation when the young, eager to please, woman set down the refresh of tea and toast, in fact, they ignored her; making her depart with an upturned nose.
"What is our agenda?" Warren knew Jack always had some kind of plan brewing. "You must have slept for 5-minutes, at least you look it." He was concerned about Jack's habits.
"I didn't let you come along, so you could lecture me." Jack's tone was a bit terse.
"Someone needs to be watchful, you seem oblivious."
Leaning back, Jack rubs his chin, he hadn't shaved yet. Amused by the concern, he humors the fair-haired man seated across from him.
"Mark my words, you'll see why I am 'oblivious'... everyday challenges will become inconsequential."
Warren smiled wide, "We'll see, we'll...see."
20160929
Mind in a Whirl
Warren lay prostrate on the small bed, the soft down compressed from his weight made the mattress ooze up around him like a cocoon. He couldn't sleep, his mind whirling from the rip, landing in the sewer pipe, the Turkish Bath experience, then trudging through the filth of the streets to their present location; it hasn't been 24-hours yet since they left 1888. (There is a week lag time between the primary rip and the rip tail they were part of this jump.)
The only proof they had indeed leaped back in time was the newspapers he read, while sitting downstairs in the pub. The Evening News, dated November 1883, the pale blue paper was crisp from just being delivered an hour prior to their arrival.
It was still hard to fathom, things weren't that different and he, himself, didn't feel younger, but Jack said that wouldn't be so.
The traveler didn't age rapidly just because they moved forward in time and the same in reverse.
In a way, it was as if time stood still or slowed to the point that they moved in between the seconds of time and everything around them changed at hyper-speed.
He didn't understand that word 'hyper', but so many terms were strange, unfamiliar, not to mention perplexing.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the ceiling, the dim glow from the street lamp below their window cast a faint light. The low snore in the bed a few feet away was somehow comforting; his companion is odd, but Warren imagined the 'mission or quest' this man has been on has skewed his outlook. In the short time he's been associated with Jack, his own perspectives and views of the world have been turned upside down.
With no idea of what the future holds, Warren anticipates an exciting journey of discoveries. He has grossly underestimated that conclusion.
The only proof they had indeed leaped back in time was the newspapers he read, while sitting downstairs in the pub. The Evening News, dated November 1883, the pale blue paper was crisp from just being delivered an hour prior to their arrival.
It was still hard to fathom, things weren't that different and he, himself, didn't feel younger, but Jack said that wouldn't be so.
The traveler didn't age rapidly just because they moved forward in time and the same in reverse.
In a way, it was as if time stood still or slowed to the point that they moved in between the seconds of time and everything around them changed at hyper-speed.
He didn't understand that word 'hyper', but so many terms were strange, unfamiliar, not to mention perplexing.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the ceiling, the dim glow from the street lamp below their window cast a faint light. The low snore in the bed a few feet away was somehow comforting; his companion is odd, but Warren imagined the 'mission or quest' this man has been on has skewed his outlook. In the short time he's been associated with Jack, his own perspectives and views of the world have been turned upside down.
With no idea of what the future holds, Warren anticipates an exciting journey of discoveries. He has grossly underestimated that conclusion.
20160915
Man vs. Beast
Dr. Jeykell sat quietly, reading his notes on the last experiment. The test subject, a rhesus macaque monkey, had exhibited very little change, if any. Expecting a dramatic outcome, the Doctor was frustrated by his recent efforts to release the base animal urges of the monkey.
Charles Darwin and the British Parliament would've been horrified by the Doctor's blatant disregard of the Cruelty to Animals Act of 1876.
Pulling the creature from it's confinement, Dr. Jeykell injected another dose of his mixture; the milky liquid disappeared from the syringe into the tiny pulsing vein, causing him to struggle and whine.
After rubbing the injection spot and stroking the coarse hair of subject A, back into the cage it went, receiving a piece of cut up fruit as a reward. The monkey's small leather like hand reached out for more of the sweet, juicy treat; the metal grating prevented it from getting more than a few inches though.
The Doctor's voice was low and soothing, "Now little one, let's see how you do with this new mixture."
Man and beast stared at each other. The monkey making little sounds similar to whimpers with each attempt to coerce more food from his captor; large, round, and soulful eyes stared up at the thick spectacles, which made the Doctor's eyes seem giant and menacing.
After two hours, the Doctor, seeing no reaction or any notable changes, slumped on his lab stool. Leaning over, resting his elbows on his worn experiment table, Dr. Jeykell shoved tired hands into his premature graying shock of hair. A man of forty-six, he had a history of bad health, with his heart troubling him of late.
"This has got to work. I must find the answer... the key is here, somewhere."
Turning the lights out as he exits his lab, Dr. Jeykell headed to his private rooms, after carefully locking the heavy wooden door.
Shortly after his departure, a hissing growl came from the cage, the small leather-like hands had grown long nails, rattling and shaking the metal structure with fierce anger...
Charles Darwin and the British Parliament would've been horrified by the Doctor's blatant disregard of the Cruelty to Animals Act of 1876.
Pulling the creature from it's confinement, Dr. Jeykell injected another dose of his mixture; the milky liquid disappeared from the syringe into the tiny pulsing vein, causing him to struggle and whine.
After rubbing the injection spot and stroking the coarse hair of subject A, back into the cage it went, receiving a piece of cut up fruit as a reward. The monkey's small leather like hand reached out for more of the sweet, juicy treat; the metal grating prevented it from getting more than a few inches though.
The Doctor's voice was low and soothing, "Now little one, let's see how you do with this new mixture."
Man and beast stared at each other. The monkey making little sounds similar to whimpers with each attempt to coerce more food from his captor; large, round, and soulful eyes stared up at the thick spectacles, which made the Doctor's eyes seem giant and menacing.
After two hours, the Doctor, seeing no reaction or any notable changes, slumped on his lab stool. Leaning over, resting his elbows on his worn experiment table, Dr. Jeykell shoved tired hands into his premature graying shock of hair. A man of forty-six, he had a history of bad health, with his heart troubling him of late.
"This has got to work. I must find the answer... the key is here, somewhere."
Turning the lights out as he exits his lab, Dr. Jeykell headed to his private rooms, after carefully locking the heavy wooden door.
Shortly after his departure, a hissing growl came from the cage, the small leather-like hands had grown long nails, rattling and shaking the metal structure with fierce anger...
20160908
Golden Waves
Sitting in her small room, staff quarters in the women's ward, Grace brushes her long golden hair; waves are pulled straight and then spring back from being in a tight braid all day.
Letting her mind wander, she recalls sitting in front of an open fire at her parents house, warm and comforting, but always a fear that they would be hunted.
Vampires were not a strange occurrence, but they were feared and many villagers didn't trust them. Once the taste of flesh was made, a vampire could lapse into uncontrollable blood lust if other measures were not taken.
Grace had never given into the impulses, unlike her sister Stella; in that case it was self-defense, from years of enduring the lust of their older brother. Grace didn't fault her sibling for her actions, but it changed their lives forever.
The villagers would have tried to kill Grace, but the greater danger was their own parents, so they fled, and eventually befriended Jack and Norman... a blessing and a curse.
Letting her mind wander, she recalls sitting in front of an open fire at her parents house, warm and comforting, but always a fear that they would be hunted.
Vampires were not a strange occurrence, but they were feared and many villagers didn't trust them. Once the taste of flesh was made, a vampire could lapse into uncontrollable blood lust if other measures were not taken.
Grace had never given into the impulses, unlike her sister Stella; in that case it was self-defense, from years of enduring the lust of their older brother. Grace didn't fault her sibling for her actions, but it changed their lives forever.
The villagers would have tried to kill Grace, but the greater danger was their own parents, so they fled, and eventually befriended Jack and Norman... a blessing and a curse.
20160901
London vs. Melbourne
The Holloway Castle Inn had a small pub on the ground floor with rooms on the next two levels. An older establishment, the wooden bar surround was festooned with framed photos and other memorabilia. The owner stood in the middle of the enclosure, almost like a cage of wood, glasses, bottles, and a few rum kegs; a tattered cricket banner, from 1882, hung not so proudly behind the register. A bitter game against the Australians and London loosing again, on their own turf, soured the locals and the games hence forth between the two countries would be called 'The Ashes.'
Laughing in a hearty, jovial manner, Mr. Croup eyed the two new comers, waving them over. He really hoped they weren't Ozzies.
"Welcome gents, what can I get you? See you have luggage, need a room?" The man's reddish, round face was like a beach ball piled on top of an even bigger ball that formed his body; a shock of dark hair greased back didn't help.
Warren smiled as he leaned on the counter, "A room and a pint sounds great."
"How long do ya' plan to stay?" Mr. Croup relieved to hear a familiar accent, grinned wide.
Turning to look at his seemingly distracted companion, Warren wonders himself.
Jack gives the appearance of an absent-minded and aloof character, but he was scanning the room.
"A fort-night, possibly longer... can you accommodate us?" Jack looked sideways at Mr. Croup; the great rotund figure made him slightly ill.
"Certainly, certainly... you're notta' Londoner." Mr. Croup looks at Jack's back and then smiles at Warren; he's not sure this man isn't running from the law.
"No, he isn't... a recent transplant; I'm from the country myself. We have business here, so... the room?"
Stepping out from behind the bar corral, Mr. Croup puffs as he leads them up the narrow stairs. It's a miracle he fits.
The room is small with two single beds and a wash basin, a view on to the street below adds the only ambiance.
"Perfect. Have you had any other guests take rooms here in the last few days?" Jack doubts Norman is here, but.
"No, last came in about a week ago, he left yesterday; you expecting someone?"
Mr. Croup handed Warren the key and looked dubious at Jack.
"We're meeting some friends, colleagues, but they may not have made it here yet."
"Well, 'appy to have 'em; that'll be 10 and 6. Meals are served at 7 for guests."
Warren hands the money to Mr. Croup, who departs, waddling through the door as a 'thank you' is murmured.
Letting his bags drop, Jack pulls back the curtains and gazes out the window. A thick fog of black pollution, created by soot and ashes, makes the night seem like an abyss. Street lights glow faintly in the haze, but the prison is lit up like a factory.
"What now?" Warren takes off his coat, brushing some of the soot ash that hand collected on the shoulders.
"We have that pint, my friend, and listen to the gossip."
Jack grins as he flings his coat across a small wooden chair; a small cloud of dust poufs up from the floor. The filth of Victorian London is everywhere.
"Use that clever, inquiring detective's mind to root out any details of unusual happenings in the last week or so, in this or the nearby areas."
"Well, that Sir, I can do!" Warren laughs as they head downstairs for that pint.
Laughing in a hearty, jovial manner, Mr. Croup eyed the two new comers, waving them over. He really hoped they weren't Ozzies.
"Welcome gents, what can I get you? See you have luggage, need a room?" The man's reddish, round face was like a beach ball piled on top of an even bigger ball that formed his body; a shock of dark hair greased back didn't help.
Warren smiled as he leaned on the counter, "A room and a pint sounds great."
"How long do ya' plan to stay?" Mr. Croup relieved to hear a familiar accent, grinned wide.
Turning to look at his seemingly distracted companion, Warren wonders himself.
Jack gives the appearance of an absent-minded and aloof character, but he was scanning the room.
"A fort-night, possibly longer... can you accommodate us?" Jack looked sideways at Mr. Croup; the great rotund figure made him slightly ill.
"Certainly, certainly... you're notta' Londoner." Mr. Croup looks at Jack's back and then smiles at Warren; he's not sure this man isn't running from the law.
"No, he isn't... a recent transplant; I'm from the country myself. We have business here, so... the room?"
Stepping out from behind the bar corral, Mr. Croup puffs as he leads them up the narrow stairs. It's a miracle he fits.
The room is small with two single beds and a wash basin, a view on to the street below adds the only ambiance.
"Perfect. Have you had any other guests take rooms here in the last few days?" Jack doubts Norman is here, but.
"No, last came in about a week ago, he left yesterday; you expecting someone?"
Mr. Croup handed Warren the key and looked dubious at Jack.
"We're meeting some friends, colleagues, but they may not have made it here yet."
"Well, 'appy to have 'em; that'll be 10 and 6. Meals are served at 7 for guests."
Warren hands the money to Mr. Croup, who departs, waddling through the door as a 'thank you' is murmured.
Letting his bags drop, Jack pulls back the curtains and gazes out the window. A thick fog of black pollution, created by soot and ashes, makes the night seem like an abyss. Street lights glow faintly in the haze, but the prison is lit up like a factory.
"What now?" Warren takes off his coat, brushing some of the soot ash that hand collected on the shoulders.
"We have that pint, my friend, and listen to the gossip."
Jack grins as he flings his coat across a small wooden chair; a small cloud of dust poufs up from the floor. The filth of Victorian London is everywhere.
"Use that clever, inquiring detective's mind to root out any details of unusual happenings in the last week or so, in this or the nearby areas."
"Well, that Sir, I can do!" Warren laughs as they head downstairs for that pint.
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| Public Domain, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2480305 |
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