Play@YSDC

Grant's Military Bookshop
Mid-Morning - Saturday 2nd September, 1933



It's shaping up to be a warm fall day after rain this evening. No customers have come into the shop yet today; but the amenable weather has already brought out the foot traffic.

Luke bustles in in the frenetic manner he adopts when he's on to something, or wants people to think he's on to something. "Lads. Got a hot tip, bit of honest graft. What have we got on cards? Tarot, playing, that sort of thing."

Anthony places a brown paper bundle, tied with coarse twine, on the counter - some books he found in the basement of his townhouse, left over from the last tenants. Maybe the staff would find something useful in there, maybe not.

He turns and begins idly scanning the shelves of new arrivals in the shop, keeping an eye out for anything he might find interesting. But he's distracted, and looks over the titles only half-heartedly -- This whole trick's for nought unless I can get it back, he thinks -- and looks up with an air of amusement as Luke dashes in through the door, plainly worked up over something.

Grant stops sipping his tea and reading. "Thank you, Llewellyn. Let's have a look at them." Carefully unwrapping the parcel, he examines the books inside, humming to himself.

"Oh! Hello Carse. Yes, there's some cigarette cards in albums and loose. Soldiers in uniform, aeroplanes, that sort of thing? There might be something in the art books, let me think …"

Luke is slightly suprised to see Anthony out of bed in the middle of the morning. "Morning, Mr Llewellyn. Were you looking for anything in particular? I know a man in South Wales with a fine collection of illuminated Celtic monastic manuscripts..."

Turning to Grant, Luke hesitates: "I think it's playing cards, or a book about them, the mark is after. But it might be cigarettes. As the peelers say, 'Hinquiries are proceedin''".

Harwood takes another swig from his mug; it's warmth fails to take the edge off the chill in the backroom. Forcing himself to keep going he drops the book he has just finished (cheap nineteenth century knock-off of the Grimoire of Pope Honorius) into the 'breaker' pile and picks up the next book on his list. Five minutes into collating De Laurence's Master Key he hears bustling coming from the shop. Eager to find something to do that doesn't involve being stared at by fertility gods and John Martin prints he wanders to the front of the shop in time to catch Carse's request. Leaning in he asks:

Playing cards or Tarot? Could do you Waite's Pictorial History if that helped? Not in the nicest nick but perfectly good reader's copy.

Anthony shakes his head. "No, nothing in particular. Just seeing if anything strikes my fancy."

Jory stands on Charing Cross Road, enjoying a morning cigarette, and appears to be having a quiet chat with what the uncharitable might assume was a young lady of the night on her way home. The conversation apparently ends well with both parties laughing, then Jory hands the young lady a cigarette, raises his hat to her and returns to the bookstore.

Jory glides through the store, disappears towards the rear, then reappears shortly with some chai. He drops down at Fullers Table with a copy of The Times and starts scouring the paper, as ever focusing on auctions, deaths, and the crime reports.

"Well, I'll get the cigarette cards, and you can have a look at them. I'll keep them aside for you while your inquiries proceed."

Returning from upstairs, Grant spots Penhalligon.

"Good morning, Captain Penhalligon! Anything good this morning from the markets?"

Grant leaves the cards on the counter and goes back to Llewellyn's books.

Harwood notices Llewellyn and turns on his most ingratiating smile. "Good morning Mr Llewellyn, if your...acquaintence was still after 18th century paper for that...project he was working on I have some available from binders' blanks and other blank leaves. Just let me know."

He moves aside to let the Captain through with a nod, knowing that much more conversation is unlikely until he has got his chai and winnowed through the morning paper. He finishes his tea and prepares to move back into his room when a thought strikes him.

Oh, sudden thought Carse, we might have a Hoyle's somewhere. Not the 1761 or anything but you won't find much more on card playing anywhere else.

Luke nods. "Hoyle and Waite, hey? Well, it's a start. I think maybe they're after something unique. Any variant early editions out there? Or maybe they're hoping the book will lead them to a particular deck - are there any guides to collections in museums and whatnot? You know how superstitious card players can get about anything they think will bring them luck".

A distinguished looking man with a hint of grey about his temples makes his way into the bookshop.

He strides briskly up to the counter, nods once and says "Penhalligon?".

Harwood turns briefly from his conversation with Carse and puts on his 'customer voice'. Over there at the table sir, and then turns back to Carse.

Rarer works...there's an odd French book, eighteenth century. The author Bullet claims playing cards were invented in France just before the death of Charlemagne, who pops up as the King of Hearts. All the other court cards are medieval Royalty or out of Arthurian legends apparently, although I've never read it myself. That's less useful for finding decks though. You know you could do worse than try the Worshipful Company. Pick a trade in this city and there will be a Guild. In terms of divination with cards, the earliest Tarot cartomancer as we would know it would be Etteilla, who wrote a couple of things. And of course for the ultimate seeker there's always the Lombardy Zeroth deck but I seriously doubt Cousin Malcolm managed to find a copy of that.

Anthony nods. "I believe he might be, Harwood, thanks very much." Looking over towards the newcomer as he comes in, "Who's this then? Anyone you've ever seen before?" Otherwise he listens in on Harwood and Carse's conversation about cartomancy. "It's a shame the Golden Dawn has died off, I'm sure one of them could've put you in touch with some interesting contacts."

Luke nods, agreeing with both Anthony and Harwood. "I don't think Malcolm - or the Dawn, for that matter - ever came across Lombardy Zero. For one thing, he's still got his own eyeballs. But that Bullet book sounds like it might be the ticket". A furtive shadow passes in front of the shop window and Luke glances up alertly. "Ah. I think one of my inquiries has proceeded back home. Pardon, lads". He ducks out again. Through the window, you see him pass a cigarette to the furtive figure casting the furtive shadow. The two are soon engrossed in quiet conversation.

Luke saunters back in. "A few details at last. It's a particular 52 deck of American playing cards - or a book about them - they're looking for a particular design, perhaps. Speaking of books, do you recall that Yezi Gexi commentary that moved for a lot last year? Wonder if there's a connection."

[/b]Hmm, American is more tricky. Not sure off the top of my head what collections there might be. Tarot is more my area than playing cards themselves. I'd get on to the Livery Company, they might be able to suggest a starting place at least. Not familiar with that particular Yezi Gexi I'm afraid but if money is coming for playing cards it might be your man moving money around.

The man nods briskly and makes his way to Fullers table and Jory, where he sits stiffly and they have a private conversation.

Attempting to overhear,It sounds like they're talking about the War. Phrases like "The Hun... Dependable... What he's up to..." drift over. The other man,clearly military, wards away any attempt to get closer to the conversation with a cold glare at the inquisitive person.

Wellington comes in a few minutes after the 1st man. He smells better than usual. His eyes are bright and wide, and he smiles a gap toothed smile as he makes his way to Grant.

Found some books. Good ones. I like this one especially. He holds up a battered leatherbound book. You can barely make out Great Expectations on the side. The half dozen other books he has clutched to his chest are so worn that you can't make out anything off of their covers at all.

Wellington,Wellington served in the Great War with one of bookstores few remaining regulars from Willey's day, one Major Filby. Filby doesn't come around often, but he had an understanding with Willey, that continues to this day, that he will buy whatever Wellington finds. The Major can't afford to pay much of course... Grant knows the Major has tried to get Wellington to stop living on the streets but he's never been successful; the man likes his cart and making a living finding things.

"That looks nice, Wellington. Dickens in calf, eh?" Grant puts Llewellyn's books to one side again. "Put them all down here and let me look at them."

Bargain,Grant can get information from Wellington with Bargain as he's a beggar or stall-keeper.

"You're looking well. Had a windfall? What's the word on the street?"