Page 14 of The Gentleman’s Thief

I strode brightly through the viewing gallery and greeted my secretary Annie.

“Good morning, my dear. I trust you had an enjoyable festive season?”

“Yes sir. And you? I do hope your journey proved profitable.”

“It has been an… eventful few weeks”. I replied cryptically. I passed my top hat, and cane to my secretary and I removed my greatcoat. Annie seemed bemused by my good nature and her bemusement pleased me. She knew me as a man of strict routine and dour manner. I suppose then that I was a very different man from the one who had left the office and vanished up to Scotland with naught but a swiftly penned note to warn her of my absence.

I strode into my office and found it was spotlessly clean and smelled of beeswax polish. Everything was organized just how I liked it. The gas fire was blazing to heat the room and I found a stack of correspondence awaiting me on the desk. Annie had removed the business letters from their envelopes and piled them up. Letters marked ‘personal’ remained in their envelopes, untouched. And so after Annie had delivered my pot of tea and toasted crumpets I set to work reading through my correspondence.

At ten o’clock the doors of the viewing gallery were opened to permit those who had received an invitation to view. I always employed extra security guards for viewings and sale days as in London there is an opportunist thief around every corner!

A knock on my door stole my attention from a letter about a large shipment of crockery that was to be sent to a chateau in France. I looked up to see Annie poke her head around the door. She winced apologetically and knowing I did not like to be disturbed when dealing with my correspondence, she spoke a whisper,

“Sorry sir, but Mr. Lawrence Blake is here to see you. He says it is a matter of some delicacy.”

This was curious. I had never formally been introduced to Mr. Blake. He was not issued with a viewing invite and I did not have an appointment with him. I wondered if this unexpected meeting was anything to do with the fact he had dined at my club.

“Thank you, Annie, show him in.”

I rose from my desk, straightened my garments, and moved to stand by the hearth so that I appeared professional and businesslike. I watched the gas fire blaze and thoughts of Sebastian swam in my mind. I had not taken to Lawrence Blake from the overconfident oratory in the drawing room at the Athenaeum. I was suspicious as to why out of all of the auction houses in London he had arrived at mine.

My office door opened and I looked up to see Annie gesturing for Lawrence Blake to enter my office. Annie took the man’s coat and hat then bowed her head respectfully and closed the door.

“Mr. Hannan,” Blake said his hands open wide. His tone of voice reminded me of a salesman.

“Good day Mr. Blake”, I gestured to the small two-seater couch then nervously strode to sit on the armchair beside it.

Blake was, at a guess, in his middle-forties. He was a hands-span taller than me, his frame was willow-switch thin, and when he moved it was with disarming grace as if he were dancing to a tune only he could hear. His face was clean-shaven, long, and angular, with sharp but not unattractive features. His hair was dark grey and styled with pomander, but from his youthful complexion, I wondered if he had become grey before his time. However, the most startling thing about Blake’s appearance was his eyes. His left eye was cerulean blue, and the right, a shade of brown so dark I could not discern the pupil from the iris. When I observed him while dining at my club he had the kind of powerful; penetrating gaze that I was certain could make a man fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, even if he had not sinned. To shield his peculiar eyes from sunlight, Blake wore spectacles with striking octagonal tinted blue lenses. He sat to face me, removed and folded the spectacles then placed them on the table. He fixed my gaze. I was discomforted looking him directly in the eyes at such proximity and wished I did not have to.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hannan. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to converse at the club.”

“Indeed. I noticed you were very much in demand.” I said respectfully.

“I was. It has long been an ambition of mine to come to London and join The Society for Psychical Research. I have not yet been shown that particular honor but I’ve dined at the Athenaeum several times and met with Society members. It is wonderful to engage in intellectual discourse with some of the greatest minds of our generation.”

Blake’s voice was rich and charismatic, but it was as if his mouth said one thing, but those eyes told a different story—I was sure he was sizing me up. I repressed a shiver.

I understood that many intellectuals were advocates of Theosophy and Spiritualism. They sought to understand the mysteries of existence, and what occurred beyond the veil. It was an area of study that gave me trepidation; however, my club was a perfect hunting ground for such inquiring minds.

I clasped my hands in my lap. “Now, Mr. Blake, how can I help you today?” I asked cordially.

Blake pursed his lips in thought and then said, “I have some business I need to attend to and you come highly recommended Mr. Hannan”.

“Is that so? I will do what I can to assist.” I said flatly, not succumbing to his flattery.

“I do not know what you have heard of me, sir. I see myself as a ‘truth seeker’. I am a Theosophist and I write for The Light, a periodical where we share testimonies and phenomena.”

Blake opened his jacket and retrieved a copy of that very periodical. He offered it to me, and not wanting to appear rude I accepted the pamphlet and smiled gratefully. I placed the periodical on the tea table and glanced at the front page which held the headline:

Ancient and Modern Testimonies to Spiritualism by A Truth Seeker.

“There are so many brilliant minds in the Empire who are open to investigating the unknown nature of our universe. I understand your very own Queen Victoria is a great friend of spiritualism.”

“I believe so.” I’d read in the newspaper of Queen Victoria’s fascination with spiritualism. I saw it primarily as the act of a woman who was grieving for her beloved and opened herself to the hope there was a way of reaching him. I did not believe it was possible myself, but Her Majesty engaged in regular séances with esteemed spiritualists and had apparently passed messages beyond the grave to Prince Albert.

“I endured quite an arduous journey across the Atlantic but it was worth every dime it to meet with great minds and seek assistance with my work.”

“Your work?”