Play@YSDC

"I think you'll find it rather difficult to approach Wellington," says Grant in an off-handed sort of way.

[ooc: I've posted a brief history of Long John Copper in "Cast of Characters."]

The page from the froggy novel appears to be a lurid but mundane fragment of a romance scene. Must have been a yellow-backed book.

Long John places the page upon the table and weights it down with a teacup.

"It's just a piece of smutty story, 'the Marquis had an extravagant collection of silk stockings'--you know the sort of thing."

Laraqua wrote:"I think you'll find it rather difficult to approach Wellington," says Grant in an off-handed sort of way.

Llewellyn raises an eyebrow.

"Really? Do tell"

Grant just smiled sadly. "Because he's dead, poor chap."

Laraqua wrote:Grant just smiled sadly. "Because he's dead, poor chap."

Llewellyn looks around the room and its occupants as seeking confirmation for Grant's statement.

"I say, accident or something to do with this horse thing?

Actually another little incident involving an ancient family recipe book for drinking ghosts and a high-heeled group of gravedancers who like nothing more than a tipple with their favourite authors. A very odd and long story. No, the SP on the horses seems as simple as it sounds, except that our punter has dropped our name as the architects of his good fortune.

He turns to Mr Grant,

As far as the runners and riders go for Christie's. We have Magg's fronting for a Spanish aristocrat and Ted Allen's chaps who may or may not just be playing for themselves. Knowing the Ring, they might just be in it for the knock out. They appear to be after the same things as our mysterious patron, which will make things more interesting. There is also a cove by the name of Berg, apparently from New York. I have a hunch he's after the pen but can't prove it. I am going to make some enquiries about him today, hopefully I could have more. Many thanks to the Captain, Carse and Laura for the round-up. I also suspect, knowing what we do about our literary doctors, that they will be in for Irving as well, it's the kind of thing that would excite them and they have money behind them. In terms of breaking them, the one thing that did spring to mind is trying to work out who is after what and driving bidding accordingly.

If they are all fronts then they will have deep pockets, but they are still going to want to keep prices down in the rooms to get any kind of profit from the second sitting. If they are just looking for the Ring they would be easier. If we drive them up they will think twice, but that means putting more of the Contessa's money in play. If we could be sure who is after what we might be able to drive prices up, then drop out, very risky though, and will cause some bad feeling. Get it right though and we can bid lower for the Contessa. We would lose the chance to get anything else off her list but if we get the one thing she wants - the Desk - she should be alright with that.

He pauses and thinks.

What order is everything in the catalogue? I think the Don wants the manuscript. He has cropped up with the translation, he seems to be linked to the Cor family. Oh yes, sorry Captain, I think that is the right name. I shall have another look. There's not a 'Raven' or something similar? Errrm, yes, the Cor family. They are linked to the Burton, that is linked to the Alhambra, et cetera. So I think he will run for that. Someone is after the pen, but they may well not go for the other items. So we have a reasonable run at the desk if, if, we can keep everyone else focused on other items. I wonder if there is any kind of deal we could run? Everyone selects an item for their patron and doesn't touch the others? Need to know what Allen's end is, and who Berg is. Could we bargain with the Cor book? Trade that to the Don, or the Collegium to get them to back off? That might help with the Ring and then we just have to worry about someone else in the room with a bank account to match the lady's.

He pauses, half-smiles and snorts gently before finishing almost to himself,

And watch out for golems of course.

Llewellyn listens to Harwood. shrugs.
Fine Harwood old chap. But I think the horse incident is a tad more serious than that. It seems this Sabini fellow is not one to cross. If someone has taken him for a large amount, and has dropped the name of this establishment in the wrong ears things could get rather nasty for Grant here, and anyone else concerned.

He turns and looks at Grant as if to gauge how seriously he took this problem.

You and the others can concentrate on this Christies thing, and I will attempt to uncover the whereabouts of this gambler and see if I can find a way to placate this Sabini chap

The office door opens and out steps Luke Carse and the Reverend Poole who share a look with each other, Luke smiling weakly at the ecclesiastical man. "I cannot thank you enough" he says quietly to the Reverend before joining the others. He leans against the bookshelves looking round at each of his friends in silence for a moment.

A few minutes after Luke and the Reverend Poole re-emerge, the door chime jangles, reminding the staff that the business of book-selling must go on. In the doorway stands a figure familiar to most of you.

Aston Drummell is a successful freelance Catalogue Agent. Tall, with a full head of hair and a manner that his friends call debonair and his enemies, probably a larger category, call oily. Whatever you call it, he smiles at the assembled throng in that way now.

"Sir Llewellyn. Father. Mr Grant. Gentlemen", he says to Llewellyn, the Reverend Poole, Mr Grant, Luke and Jory. "I do hope I find you all well this morning?"

Llewellyn makes a snorting noise that could be taken for a greeting and begins to study his fingernails in a disinterested manner.

Aston Drummell enters the shop; heads turn to see the visitor, and Long John takes the opportunity to slip several biscuits into his threadbare jacket pocket. He wonders if he can sell matches to the assembled gentlemen, but dare not ask.

"Well, I can see you're busy", notes Aston, "So I'll cut to the chase. A client believes that a book belonging to him may have - entirely innocently, I hasten to add - ended up among your stock. Some sort of family heirloom or diary, I understand. Handmade wooden covers, a few badly marked up plates, and a lot of handwritten latin. He's prepared to offer 50 pounds for it - sentimental value. Have you gents seen anything like that?"

"Well Drummell, perhaps if you could be a bit more specific about the tome then we may be able to help a bit more. Personally, and I cannot speak for the others present, but I have seen no such book here or hereabouts. Perhaps if you would be so kind as to leave your client's name and address, we shall make contact should the situation change."

Luke struggles to keep the distaste for this man from his visage and the fact that this could indeed be the Cor cookbook. His mind races frantically. If this low life is after the book, then it must have some meaning, some value that is lost on him at present. Then it hits him that Aston Drummell and he are very much the same, though he hopes that others can see that he is not as greasy as the spiv in front of them. His shame for his past misdeeds comes back to him once more, but since his talk with the Reverend Poole, this affects him somewhat less than it had hit him before, which is a pleasant surprise for him. Perhaps the horrible dreams will fade as well - time alone will tell.

Aston narrows his eyes slightly. "My client prefers to remain anonymous, I'm sure you understand. Are you quite sure you haven't seen it? My client was most specific. He seemed to think it had been stolen by a tramp, one of your regular book scouts. Personally, I rarely do business with such people" he adds, looking Long John up and down with distaste.

Grant smiles at him pleasantly. "Certainly, we can have a look for it but you must understand that we do have a variety of books that match that description and none of them well-filed at present. If you could leave us your details and a bit more information than I'm sure we can root it out and sell it to him should we find it."

Rev. Poole takes note that Grant and company are seeking to drive off this oleaginous interloper. He sidles up to Drummell and, spending a point of flattery, begins his patter...


Mr. Drummell, just the sort of man I was hoping to find when I came by the shop here only... He motions for him to walk out of earshot of Grant and associates, though only somewhat lowers his voice.
As you can see, I was rather disappointed. Consider my good fortune at your arrival. We may be able to help each other good fellow. I have a reputation for having some experience in rarer old religious texts, and I have recently received a query regarding a similar work to the one you describe. The person asking these questions... no names of course, but I can say he is a gentleman of my acquaintance... may very well either be in possession of this oddly bound book or knows where it may be found. Obviously I'd rather not discuss things further... here... but perhaps we might rendezvous later? Over dinner perhaps? I know an excellent chop house...

Luke's eyes narrow at the Reverend taking the reprehensible Drummell to one side and speaks privately to him. When a break in their conversation presents itself Luke impatiently offers the following observation.

"Tramp you say ... the poor unfortunates that inhabitant of the same city as ..." Luke controls himself with difficulty before continuing "Again, if you were to provide more information about this poor unfortunate we may be able to comment more fully."

Aston smiles pleasantly at the Reverend, mutters a few words (to confirm the dinner date, for those rude enough to eavesdrop) and passes him a card. He then turns back to the larger group.

"Why, Carse, I never knew you were so sentimental. And you (gesturing to Luke) haven't seen anything of the sort, but you (gesturing to Grant) have a variety of similar books in stock. Not a falling out among old comrades, I hope? I shall tell my client that your memories may require a more generous jogging, shall I? Not sure how he'll take it, to be honest. Here's my card, Mr Grant, do let me know when you've finished filing your... acquisitions. As for the tramp, his name was Wellesley, or something of the sort, I think. According to my client."

With a small smile Llewellyn looks up from the study of his fingernails.

"I say Drummel, careful how you close the door behind you, after all I would hate to see it catch you mid slam".

With something more than a nod and less than a bow, Aston Drummell takes his leave.