Page 43 of Master Wolf

Begg swallowed hard, the movement of his throat discernible even through the folds of his cravat. Drew hid his amusement behind a blank expression. Marguerite was very good at this.

The man at Begg’s side cleared his throat softly, causing Begg to glance at him as though he’d forgotten he was there.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I am forgetting Mr. Bainbridge.” He gestured at the nondescript man, clearly considering that was all the introduction that was required.

Drew resisted the urge to glance at Lindsay or Marguerite. He watched, expressionless, as Lindsay bowed in Bainbridge’s direction, offering a charming smile. “You will forgive me, Mr. Bainbridge, if I do not offer my hand. As you can see, I am somewhat incapacitated this evening.” He flapped his arm in its black silk sling and briefly lifted his cane.

“Of course,” Bainbridge said smoothly, returning his nod. “Mr. Somerville, is it?”

“Yes, indeed. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”

“And you,” Bainbridge said. He turned to Drew. “Mr. Niven.” This time he did offer his hand, and Drew took it, murmuring more pleasantries. His handshake was as unremarkable as the rest of him.

“And Mrs. Niven,” he said finally, offering Marguerite a deep bow. “It is an honour to make your acquaintance.”

“Charmed,” Marguerite said and smiled brilliantly at him, making him blink, as though dazed.

“So, Mr. Begg,” Drew said. “You are the leader of the Town Council. That is a position of considerable importance.”

Begg puffed up at that. “I do my best to serve the town and its people,” he said piously.

Judging by the rings on his pudgy fingers and the gold watch chain stretched across his middle, he wasn’t doing too badly out of the bargain, Drew thought.

“And Monsieur Bainbridge?” Marguerite prompted. “Are you also a town official?”

Bainbridge shook his head. “Not I,” he said, but he did not offer any further information.

Lindsay said, “Mr. Niven was at the City Chambers earlier today, weren’t you, Niven? He was viewing that gruesome thing they dug up near St. Cuthbert’s.”

“The skeleton?” Begg asked, chuckling. “That pile of bones has certainly provoked a deal of interest. Don’t you agree, Bainbridge?”

Bainbridge inclined his head in assent. “It is a very interesting specimen.”

Marguerite grasped Bainbridge’s forearm. “Mon Dieu, have you seen it too?” she gasped. “It ishorrible, is it not? I thought I would faint!”

Bainbridge carefully disengaged his arm. “I am a scientist, madame. I daresay we see these things rather differently than other people.”

“You’ve seen it too?” Drew said. “What did you think of it? Do you think it’s genuine?”

“Of course it’s genuine!” Begg blustered. “It’s in exactly the same condition now as it when it was found!”

Drew opened his mouth to assure Begg he hadn’t meant to suggest there had been any interference with the specimen but before he could speak, Bainbridge said mildly, “I’m sure Mr. Niven meant no insult, Mr. Begg, and it’s a perfectly reasonable question. With such an unusual specimen, the collector’s mind naturally seeks to eliminate all other possible explanations before accepting what his eyes appear to be telling him.”

“Indeed,” Drew murmured in agreement. “However, I apologise if I offended you, Mr. Begg. It was not my intention.” He felt stupid—was he flushing? He was no good at this playacting stuff.

Begg nodded stiffly.

“As to your question, Mr. Niven,” Bainbridge continued in his colourless voice, “Yes, I think the bones are quite genuine. However, I do not believe them to be the bones of a monster. My view it is the skeleton of a man who was suffering from a very rare condition I have seen one instance of before, during my travels in Ireland.”

“What sort of condition?” Lindsay asked.

“A very distressing one. The man suffered from a gross degree of overgrowth of his skull and limbs, giving him a hideously malformed appearance. The poor gentleman’s head was twice the size of a normal man’s and of the most horrifying countenance I think I have ever laid eyes upon. It was only when we examined him after his unfortunate death, that we discovered the extent of the bone malformation.”

Bainbridge’s gaze was cool—he seemed to Drew unmoved, despite the words of apparent sympathy.

“You are a doctor then, Mr. Bainbridge?” Lindsay asked.

Bainbridge gave a wintry smile. “I am not a medical man,” he said. “But I pursue a number of—scientific interests.”