Heart of Gold by Michael Pryor Page A

just starting to become well
known. Why, the Society of Artists had even commissioned
a photograph of him for their journal.'
    George entered, fresh from bathing, his hair brushed,
his cheeks ruddy. He rubbed his hands. 'Excellent!
Good morning, Madame Calvert.' He arrowed toward
the sideboard and stood for a moment, entranced by
the variety, before taking a plate and building a tower
of pastries.
    Madame Calvert rose and clasped her book under her
arm. Aubrey stood, remembering to clutch his napkin
before it fell from his lap. 'Madame.'
    She left. George joined Aubrey at the table. 'Plans, old
man?' he said in between bites of a custard-filled delicacy.
'You'll want to do some magic or whatnot to find out
what's ailing our Monsieur Jordan?'
    'I don't think so. The police seem to have that matter
well in hand.'
    'That hasn't stopped you in the past.'
    'Be that as it may. Today is a day to stroll around our
neighbourhood at leisure, enjoying the sights. I need to
do some shopping, odds and ends, that kind of thing.'
    'You want to see Caroline, don't you?'
    Aubrey adopted an expression of what he hoped was
haughty disdain. 'If we happen to bump into her, I won't
be displeased.'
    George tackled another sugar-encrusted work of art.
'Remarkable young lady, wouldn't you say? I mean,
coming over here to study and all that. Keen intellect.'
    'George, you don't have to convince me. I think highly
enough of her as it is.' He rubbed his cheek. 'We're in
Lutetia, she's in Lutetia. She's at the university, we're close
by. I'm sure an opportunity will arise.' An opportunity this time , he thought, not a crisis .
    'Excellent.' George dusted sugar from his chin. 'She
said she'd teach me that shoulder rolling thing, the one
where you send an attacker flying through the air.'
    'A person of many talents is our Miss Hepworth.'

    T HE SUMMER MORNING WAS BRIGHT AND SUNNY, WITH A cloudless blue sky welcoming them. The streets were
busy with carts, carriages, bicycles and motorcars. Pavements
thronged with pedestrians, some ambling along,
others walking briskly. Aubrey felt he could tell the
tourists from the natives by the velocity of their gait.
    As he studied the passers-by, he thought he had
another way to pick the local citizens: their garments.
By and large, the clothes of the Lutetians were well cut
and smart.
    The women wore long dresses that were softer and less
bulky than the fashion in Albion. Hats were large, often
fastened under the chin with a scarf, but they avoided the
extravagant feather and flower adornments that always
puzzled Aubrey at home.
    He paid close attention to the garments the men
wore. Suits for the men were trim and comfortable,
and it seemed as if the Lutetians had done away with
high, starched collars, a trend Aubrey was in favour of.
Hats seemed to signify the demeanour of the wearer –
jaunty straw boaters, cheery bowlers, as well as more
sombre homburgs and even some top hats on the older
gentlemen.
    The Lutetians wore their clothes with taste and style,
often adding a brooch or a silk handkerchief to an outfit
to add a touch of individuality. This approach appealed to
Aubrey and he made a note to see what he could do in
that department.
    Having gained directions from Madame Calvert,
Aubrey steered their way toward the Central Market.
He'd mapped the day carefully; the market was between
their apartment and the university.
    Aubrey smelled and heard the market long before
he saw it. Shouting, cackling, sizzling and braying
announced its location, and then he smelled hot food and
farm animals. When they turned off the Boulevard of
Honesty and saw the market precinct, the assault on the
senses was complete.
    Rows of stalls stretched out in front of them, with
barrows doing their best to push through the mass of
people. Most of the customers were laden with bags
crammed full of fruit, vegetables, and mouth-wateringly
fragrant wrapped packages.
    They stood near the base of a monument, an ancient
stone cross. George