The Eyeball Collector by F E Higgins Page A

style and taste but also for her extravagant nature, and we northsiders love her for it! It is believed that no expense was spared in her recent renovation of Withypitts Hall. No doubt all will be revealed at the Mandible Annual Midwinter Feast.
    Since the tragic death of his father last year, young Lord Mandible is rarely in the City, preferring to stay within the confines of Withypitts, some six hours’ ride away. He has never been particularly fond of dancing or parties on account of his withered leg and no doubt he is pleased that Baron Bovrik accompanies Lady Mandible to all society functions in the City.
    Despite the fact that many young ladies of the City are purported to be under the Baron’s spell, he is immune to their charms and dedicated to the task set before him. Of course, it is common knowledge that he has been charged with helping to organize the Mandible Midwinter Feast. We northsider Urbs Umidians look forward to it with great anticipation. Always a marvellous occasion, one feels this year that Lady Mandible will make it her own.
          
    Hector put the crumpled page down on the floor beside his mattress and leaned over to trace with his finger for the hundredth time Baron Bovrik de Vandolin’s profile. Then he settled back with a frown.
    ‘What a master of deception you are, Truepin,’ he murmured, rolling his ebony cocoon between his fingers. For, if this sketch was accurate, there was little doubt in Hector’s mind that Gulliver Truepin and Bovrik de Vandolin were one and the same.
    ‘And if you aren’t,’ he said out loud, ‘at the very least I owe it to Father to find out.’
     
Chapter Twelve
          
A Disturbing Encounter
    Hector pressed himself tightly to the wall and cautiously peered around the corner at the gleaming black carriage that had just drawn up in the street. Despite his outward appearance of calm, his heart was thumping wildly behind his ribs. He watched as the driver jumped down and opened the door. The passenger, a man, was holding a brass-tipped and handled cane which tapped smartly on the pavement. Hector noticed how the toes of his shoes, sporting large gold buckles, gleamed. Suddenly the wind took the man’s cloak and whipped it open to reveal beneath an unusual palette: yellow ochre breeches with darker satin ties and a waistcoat of peridot green. He stood for a moment, admiring his reflection in the window, then pulled at the patch over his left eye and tweaked his waxed moustache before walking into the building.
    The driver’s back was turned so Hector slipped along the pavement and crept up to the door. He sniffed, his senses alerted. Could he smell citrus? His lip curled when he read the names on the glass before him: Badlesmire and Leavelund, Solicitors and Auctioneers.
    A combination of luck and intuition had brought him here. The Diurnal Journal tracked Lady Mandible’s – and therefore the Baron’s – every move. Thanks also to the journal Hector knew where they stayed when in the City: Lady Mandible’s town house. Hector had kept a close watch on the house all day. As evening fell his patience was rewarded. The front door opened and a man emerged. He set off at a quick pace towards the river. Hector was quite certain this man was Bovrik de Vandolin, but the real question was, could he also be Gulliver Truepin? From this distance and in this light he just couldn’t be sure. He followed cautiously all the way to the Bridge at which point Bovrik hailed a carriage. Hector heard him say, ‘Roebemlynde Street,’ and off he went.
    Although Hector was on foot he had no trouble keeping up. It was market day, and the streets were crammed with cattle and pigs and street sellers; besides, he knew the narrow short cuts where the carriage couldn’t go, so he was already waiting in Roebemlynde Street when the carriage arrived.
    Despite the fact that they were sited south of the river, Badlesmire and Leavelund’s client list had more than its fair