2 - Tracking Down Ethan Blane

A book has been stolen and needs to be retrieved. A simple enough task, you think, as you get landed with the job. Or is it?

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2 - Tracking Down Ethan Blane

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Looking at the list Quincey gave him William confirms it overlaps with his own list of known acquaintances in Arkham book dealing business. There are no new names there. Of his own list of contacts not all have a telephone number, a few do not even deal from an actual bookshop, but he concentrates on the ones that can be reached from a distance for now.

Williams spends his morning, and some of his lunch hour making good use of the telephone but the results an negligible. No one on the other end of the line claims to know or have met Ethan Blane, or to have seen a man fitting the description William gives. One acquaintance does metion he remembers hearing something on a conversation recently about a large out-of-town man dropping by Arkham lately with an interest in old books, but he can't recall specifics about who and when he was talking.

Going back to his contacts list WIlliam checks the the ones that, for whatever reason, don't own a telephone or do not give out its number. From among these, if you cross out the ones he knows do not deal with occultic books but just normal literature fare, three names are left. These are:


Dr. Von Carsen - exactly what he is a Doctor of no one appears to know. Von carsen is a quite reclusive eldery German expat who has lived in Arkham since before the turn of the century, and a friendly acquaintance of William's father when he ran the family's bookstore. Some bad blood between him and the local community led to Carsen becoming something of an hermit after the Great War. William hasn't seen him in ages but knows he is stil alive and dealing from his 2nd floor apartment in the Foreign Quarter. Has excellent contacts in Europe and specializes in dealing with Medieval and Renaissance Continental works, the Ages which issued most of the worthwhile occult literature available.

Prof. Winters, Roscoe - formerly a teacher and linguitics researcher at Miskatonic Univeristy, which he abandoned after some unnamed scandal. About the age of William's father if he were still alive. Winters is an archeo-polyglot reputed to be fluent in more than 10 dead languages, not counting Latin and Greek. He does not have any peculiar interest in the occult or the eras of European literature that produced the greatest works in that field, dealing mostly with Classical, pre-Classical and Ancient materials, and often not in book form. He is actually more of an antiquarian than a book dealer, but the Egyptology and Orientalism crazes of the past decades made a good portion of his business be about occult literature, from original Book of the Dead copies, to first editions of the earliest works about Middle Eastern votive clay tablets and ancient Chinese bamboo paper "grimmoires". He owns a grocery-sized corner shop on the New Merchant district, near Northwest St. bridge. William has never dealt with Prof. Roscoe professionaly but knows of him from past social gatherings, where they exchanged busines cards.

Miss Yarbrough, Marguerite - half mysterious figure and half black sheep, she is a woman entering middle-age (widowed some say) hailing from outside Arkham (Boston, others claim) who has turned the ground floor lobby of her house on Boudary Street into an improvised, but charming, private bookstore selling mostly old editions of classical literature works and tales mostly enjoyed by the fairer sex. At least that is the image her store projects, William knows it is mostly a façade. Miss Marguerite's business deals mostly with the buying and seelling of less recomendable literature, banned books, proscribed works, old volumes with shocking or apalling pictures and the like. Although not an occultist (and not a scholar either accordign to most) a fair number of rare occult books have passed through her bookstore. She also has good contacts outside the literary world which are out to good use on her dealings; if want to trade in old books but don't want to deal with licenses, paperwork or taxes she is the one to go to. William has only dealt with Miss Marguerite once, when he needed to acquire a volume from abroad a couple years back that would not have been possible at the time given the political situation and wrangling with Customs. William has also heard some remarkable rumors (which he never found any substatiation to) claiming she also has contacts with less savioury individuals, and those that cheat her on a transaction will end up taken care of...in a most physical manner.
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Re: 2 - Tracking Down Ethan Blane

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William weighs up the three booksellers. Although he favours Dr. Von Carsen,--the old German expat sounds promising--Miss Marguerite Yarbrough sounds like she is thoroughly disreputable, so he decides to call at her house first.
Last edited by Tabs on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:39 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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After lunch WIlliam walks to Boundary St. and Miss Yarbrough's house, it is near enough to preclude the need for transportation and the fair early spring wheather today does lend itself for a nice stroll.

The house itself is a slanted roof one-storey buidling with a small porch garden. Looks comfortable and well-kept, perhaps a bit too small for a numerous family but more than adequate for a single inhabitant. There is no window showcase or anything to indicate this is a place of business, besides a home, apart from a small small wooden placard with pantied letters near the main door, which is closed. William rings the bell and soon enough the door opens.

Framed on the entrance is the figure of Miss Marguerite Yarbrough. She has gained a few pounds since the last time they met, but curiously the added weight makes her look somewhat younger than before. As usual she is dressed in black clothing, wearing a dress that would not go amiss during the last days of the gaslight age. Her taste for conservative fashion and refusal to adopt those of the roaring 20's are known to most aquainted t oher.

The woman face lights up in a warm smile when seeing who the visitor is, that hints at being more than just professional courtesy towards a potential client.

"Why, it is Mister Townsend!" she exclaims, "I have not seen you in ages..."

Marguerite ushers William in, through the lobby-turned-bookstore which as far as he can tell has not changed at all. Sober bookshelves line the walls and there is the confortable smell of old tomes in the air. As it happened on their previosy meeting Miss Marguerite won't have any talking until the visitor is comfortably sitting on the tea-room to the side of the lobby and a steaming pot of tea is brought in. She begins pouring and asks:

"So what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, after all this time, Mr. Townsend? I assume you have not come by simply for a courtesy visit?"
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William sips at his tea, and says appreciatively above the steam: "Lovely, as always, Miss Yarbrough. Yes, you are quite right, I'm here on business. Ever dealt with a Mr. FranklIn Quincey?"
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"Have I ever dealt with Mr. Quincey?" the woman sounds somewhat...amazed at the question, "Why, who in Arkham dealing in old books hasn't done business with him? There would would be very few I assume, Mr. Quincey is known to pay handsomely for any book he sets his mind on. But why do you ask?"
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"Okay," says William, holding up a hand and smiling, "it's a delicate matter and I was unsure how to broach it. I'll get to the point of why I'm here. Ever heard of Ethan Blane? Here is a sketch of the fellow," he produces the page drawn by Quincey. "According to Mr. Quincey he stole a valuable book from him. . . ."
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Marguerite takes the sketch and looks at it. There is an unmistakable glint of recognition in her eyes.

"Why, my word!"
she says, "Two young gentlemen come calling on the same month, and one is asking about the other. Did you draw this yourself?" she asks pointing at the paper, "It is quite the striking image of Mr. James. He came by a little over a week ago; I don't know a "Ethan Blane"...wait, you said an individual by that name has stolen a book from Mr. Quincey? How? Which one?"
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"Mr. Quincey drew the sketch," answers William. "Mr. James called upon Mr. Quincey to view The Scripture of Shul; he drugged the book dealer, it seems, and stole the book." He continues: "I've been tasked to retrieve the book, which is why, obviously, I'm enquiring about 'Ethan Blane.' Do you know where he is?" asks William, and adds: "Mr. Quincey would be most grateful--he is a very wealthy man."
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The woman seems a bit discomforted by WIlliam's revelations and lets out a "Oh my..." before taking her tea cup to the lips. There is a moment of uncomfortable silence as she drinks and no one speaks. Then suddenly, with a loud thump! something lands on the table near William making the teapot and cups shake and he finds himself facing a large Siamese cat sitting atop the table like a sphinx.

"Oh Nin!" Marguerite exclaims, "Bad kitty, can't you see mommy is having a conversation?"

The cat ignores her and focuses its attention on William, looking at the man with its clear azure-blue eyes. They don't express fear or hostility, merely curiosity. The cat chirps and extends one open paw trying to touch him, then begins purring, loudly.

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"Well." says Marguerite, "She's taken a liking to you Mr. Townsend. That is Nin, my cat. I got her Almost two years ago, found the poor thing abandoned on the street and could not just leave her there, out in the cold and rain. She is quite the good judge of character you know? When Mr. James, er...Blane; whatever is name is came by Nin was nowhere to be seen. Must have sensed the man was up to no good."

By now Nin lying on her side on the edge of the table nearest to William, contorting slowly and purring like a motor in an unabashed appeal for being petted.

"I can't say I know where he is now Mr. Townsend," Marguerite gets back on topic, "but I think he left me a contact address here in Arkham. I am afraid I became an unwitting accomplice in his thievery; you see when he came here it was to inquire about that very same book you mentioned, the Shul Scripture. I don't own it, but I did previously. It was I that sold it to Mr. Quincey, one of the best deal I've ever made I may add. I said that much to "Blane" and recommended he visit Mr. Quincey if he wished to consult the book. Mr. Quincey is known to have an open library to fellow academics, how was I supposed to know?...I mean. Oh, Damn that deceiving fiend!"
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"Oh, what a beautiful creature!" says William. He accepts Nin's greeting and gently shakes its paw: "How-de-do, puss?"

"There is no reason to blame yourself, Miss Yarbough. Now, if you can give me Blane's address, maybe I can retrieve the book for Mr. Quincey and the police can arrest the thief.

"And one more thing, as a matter of interest, how did you come by the Scripture of Shul?"
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The cat accepts William's reciprocation and soon is lying down comfortably on the table looking at the exchanges between the two humans with half-closed eyes, in that manner felines are so apt to do.

Marguerite excuses herself for a moment and goes to the store lobby, returning from the with a ledger she begins leafing through.

"I came by the book like I often do most good finds, through a death sale. You wouldn't believe the treasures have in their homes without knowing. When they pass away the heirs often try to dispose of what they cannot find use for, often old books. I have a couple of contacts in Boston, New York and other places who keep an eye out for books among those spoils and either bid on my behalf or deal with the heir personally." she stops leafing the ledger as she suddenly recalls something, "I remember The Scripture in particular now, the original owner I was told, was some some foreigner, an exotic type. Egyptian...or was it Indian? He had died in his rental apartment in Boston leaving some debts and without heirs. The landlord was selling his property to settle the bills and the book was among it. And now that I think about it I have not had any business contact with my in-between Boston man since."

"Ah, here it is." Marguerite produces a small sheet of paper from the ledger and hands it to William. Handwritten is the name "James Daish" and an address in the southern part of French Hill, on the other side of town. "I have heard of that address. It is a low rent boarding house. There are several in that part of Arkham." she pauses a moment and her tone becomes more serious, "If you are going to track him down and obtain the book back for Mr. Quincy...Mr. Townsend, no William, may I call you William? Could I ask you to pelase leave my name out of the proceedings? If the police asks tell them you got his address from some contact you don't know the name of? My usual store costumers, not the academics but those like the ladies you saw on arrival, are not the kind to patronage business that get involved in police investigations, if you know what I mean..."
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"Yes, I know exactly what you mean, Miss Yarbough--er--Marguerite. I shall do as you ask," says William, scribbling down James Daish's address in his notebook. "To be honest, it seems that Mr. Quincey does not wish to involve the police either, so rest assured on that front.

"On a personal matter, my business could do with spreading its wings so to speak, could I contact your 'in-between' in Boston?"
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"Now, now William." she admonishes but with a half-smile on her face, "Secrecy is the soul of successful business and all that. I am not in the habit of providing my trade contacts to the competition...no offense. But if it proves necessary to contact him for the sake of your recovery of the stolen book I'll gladly pass on a message. If the man can be reached, that is. As I said I have not heard from him since he acquired The Scripture for me; I can't even say for sure he is still in Boston these days."
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"You are quite right, Marguerite," says William. "Thank you for being so helpful and for the tea, but I must be getting on." He gives Nin a farewell stroke.

Spoiler:
When he leaves he'll go to James Daish's address.
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Nin arches her back to make the most of William's parting caress. He can feel the rhythmic vibrations of her purring as his hand passes through he fur.

Marguerite walks him to the door. "Now do not be stranger William. Do come by sometime soon and pay a visit, even if there is no business to be done and you're not hunting stolen books." She says with a slight smile. "Godspeed and best of luck getting that one back for Mr. Quincey."
and the woman strokes William's arm as a parting gesture.

Leaving Marguerite's house William then makes his way towards French Hill, on the other side of town. It is a sunny early afternoon so the walk becomes a pleasant stroll. No need for transportation, much less to the slanted, narrow streets of the hill. The location he is trying to find is on Walnut St. and he spots it easily once he gets to the hill area. It is one of two "modern", squat, squarish and somewhat rundown apartment buildings that face each other from across the street, and making quite a contrast to the older roofed houses in New England architecture found in this area. From the looks of it the construction must have 3 to 4 apartments on each floor.

The apartment building main door is open, but the reception lobby is eerily vacant. There is no lift and a flight of stairs lead up. The address Marguerite gave him indicates one in the 3rd floor, and true enough checking the mailboxes on the lobby's wall shows that one of the third floor ones has a tag written "J. Daish".
Spoiler:
Apologies for the delay in posting. I had a longer and more descriptive one ready to post on the weekend but my PC decided to do its monthly "restart and update" routine and it was lost. :roll:
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Re: 2 - Tracking Down Ethan Blane

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During his pleasant stroll to French Hill William thinks over his chat with Marguerite, Nin and the bookseller's salacious reputation, "Probably all true," he thinks, and smiles.

~

He quietly climbs the stairs to the 3rd floor, all the while listening carefully and thinking furiously about what to say to James Daish. . . .

Spoiler:
It is soul destroying to lose a long post.
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Re: 2 - Tracking Down Ethan Blane

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Arriving at the third floor William goes to the door he assumes is the one of Daish's apartment. He can clearly hear a strange chanting moan issuing from the other side of the door, but he can't make out the words of identify it.
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William knocks loudly, like a bailiff.
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In response to William's loud knocking a crazed voice shouts from the other side

“Go away! Leave me! You’ll not rob me of it, not when it’s so close!”

Then the chanting resumes.
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"What the hell do I do now?" thinks William, "call the police?" flashes through his mind, only for the idea to be quashed when he remembers Quincey's express wish.

He knocks again, and shouts: "James Daish, I've come to collect the book!"
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