this cell- a rather nice, not very smelly cell, but obviously a brig nonetheless. The swell of travel, and the way the floors moved, told me as much- the Marauder had taken me to a much larger ship.
“If you go back on the deal, I can always treat you like an enemy captive. In the old days, seafaring pirates would do as they liked with a female captive,” Clemens was saying.
Despite the notion, he did not seem to take much note of my assets, still on display in a barmaid’s thin linen blouse. This one enjoyed the game, not the spoils, I realized suddenly.
“Who is the smug one now?” I quipped, getting naught in the way of impatience. Very annoying, this Albion Clemens. Instead of giving in to frustration, he leaned forward, sipping at his own cup of tea. It was an odd habit for an Oriental to have. He did it pinky out.
“Look here,” he said very carefully. “I know you followed us for a reason, not escaping a silly brawl or for our personal safety. Now, I gave you three pieces of information at the pub- who I was, what I had done, and who I was after. You didn’t call the Navy police or the constables, so I feel certain you’re not after me for the stolen lavender. On the money so far?”
I nodded; his induction was immaculate. The best thing I could do was give him nothing. Perhaps he would slip up.
“There are plenty of people after me, but as you came to stop my murder, and as there were other air pirates, hell, proper aeronauts in the pub, I don’t think you are running, or after a bounty, or want to turn me in.”
“Correct,” I begrudged, tiring of admitting defeat.
“So, I am to conclude the following,” he said, sitting up in a rather handsome pose. I hadn’t noticed before, but with his buccaneer coat off and his gun belt at a rakish angle, hung low by a long cutlass, the man was positively dashing.
Muscles bulged underneath well-starched linen, and th ose piercing black-brown eyes…
N o! no, Hargreaves! The man is a scoundrel, a highwayman! I thought of the stinking pink elephant, bringing his voice into focus.
“Your target is this man!” Albion Clemens concluded, fishing out the photogram of the man so unlike himself as to draw unseemly suspicions. Clearly, the Oriental before me could have nothing to do with the white-haired American depicted there. Or most would have thought.
I sighed. There was no avoiding it, I supposed. I would have to tell the Bangkok Bandit something of the truth.
“All right,” I said. “The mission has little to do with me, but it has everything to do with you, and this Samuel Clemens.”
“I knew it. Take me to him!” Clemens demanded. The urgency in his voice betrayed his stoic Asiatic features for just a second- Albion cared for Samuel, as a friend, a comrade, perhaps…
“You were adopted,” I concluded aloud. The statement seemed to stun Albion, but only for a moment. “It was not a lie told at the Jilted Merman. This man is your adopted father.”
“In a manner of speaking. Someone who saves a Chinese man’s life might as well be a father to him,” he admitted freely.
“Chinese is it? It was Chinese or Japanese, I hadn’t decided.”
“The hair? I know, works to my advantage.”
“Oooh, I love the hair, very dashing.”
“Hey!” Albion protested now. “No stalling.”
“Nothing gets past you,” Drat!
“Where is Captain Sam?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, peering into his dark eyes
“If you go back on the deal, I can always treat you like an enemy captive. In the old days, seafaring pirates would do as they liked with a female captive,” Clemens was saying.
Despite the notion, he did not seem to take much note of my assets, still on display in a barmaid’s thin linen blouse. This one enjoyed the game, not the spoils, I realized suddenly.
“Who is the smug one now?” I quipped, getting naught in the way of impatience. Very annoying, this Albion Clemens. Instead of giving in to frustration, he leaned forward, sipping at his own cup of tea. It was an odd habit for an Oriental to have. He did it pinky out.
“Look here,” he said very carefully. “I know you followed us for a reason, not escaping a silly brawl or for our personal safety. Now, I gave you three pieces of information at the pub- who I was, what I had done, and who I was after. You didn’t call the Navy police or the constables, so I feel certain you’re not after me for the stolen lavender. On the money so far?”
I nodded; his induction was immaculate. The best thing I could do was give him nothing. Perhaps he would slip up.
“There are plenty of people after me, but as you came to stop my murder, and as there were other air pirates, hell, proper aeronauts in the pub, I don’t think you are running, or after a bounty, or want to turn me in.”
“Correct,” I begrudged, tiring of admitting defeat.
“So, I am to conclude the following,” he said, sitting up in a rather handsome pose. I hadn’t noticed before, but with his buccaneer coat off and his gun belt at a rakish angle, hung low by a long cutlass, the man was positively dashing.
Muscles bulged underneath well-starched linen, and th ose piercing black-brown eyes…
N o! no, Hargreaves! The man is a scoundrel, a highwayman! I thought of the stinking pink elephant, bringing his voice into focus.
“Your target is this man!” Albion Clemens concluded, fishing out the photogram of the man so unlike himself as to draw unseemly suspicions. Clearly, the Oriental before me could have nothing to do with the white-haired American depicted there. Or most would have thought.
I sighed. There was no avoiding it, I supposed. I would have to tell the Bangkok Bandit something of the truth.
“All right,” I said. “The mission has little to do with me, but it has everything to do with you, and this Samuel Clemens.”
“I knew it. Take me to him!” Clemens demanded. The urgency in his voice betrayed his stoic Asiatic features for just a second- Albion cared for Samuel, as a friend, a comrade, perhaps…
“You were adopted,” I concluded aloud. The statement seemed to stun Albion, but only for a moment. “It was not a lie told at the Jilted Merman. This man is your adopted father.”
“In a manner of speaking. Someone who saves a Chinese man’s life might as well be a father to him,” he admitted freely.
“Chinese is it? It was Chinese or Japanese, I hadn’t decided.”
“The hair? I know, works to my advantage.”
“Oooh, I love the hair, very dashing.”
“Hey!” Albion protested now. “No stalling.”
“Nothing gets past you,” Drat!
“Where is Captain Sam?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, peering into his dark eyes
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