Port Royal, Jamaica

[Ransom]

We walked in darkness back to Trilby's house. As he pulled a heavy door key from the folds of his robe, from across town could be heard the rapport of a pistol, then a moment later, another. Trilby paused, shook his head, then went on about opening the door.

From what I had learned of the layout of the town, the sound seemed to be coming from the vicinity of the Shipp Tavern. "Is Port Royal always so riotous? First a ship is blown up, then an assassination attempt made on Morgan, murder of a maid at the Shipp, the apparent shooting and possible death of Captain Sterling, the bizarre kidnapping and branding of Killingsworth, and now more shots fired across town. It's a wonder any of you live past a week."

We entered his dark house and Trilby fussed with a lantern. The wavering light sent pagan shadows dancing around the walls, bringing his motley assorment of artifacts into luring display. With a slam, he shut the door and re-locked it, then headed for the stairs to the rooftop patio.

"Port Royal has always been a rowdy place," he groused, "but it seems tae be getting worse lately."

We climbed the stairs, Cleopatra slinking between my booted feet to pass us. When we reached the roof, the cat leaped to one of the chairs, kneaded into shape its thick cushion, then hunched with front legs tucked under chest, green eyes staring at us.

I relaxed into the same ornate carved chair I'd occupied earlier. "How long do you think it will be before Andre' contacts you?"

Professor Trilby picked up the cat, sat in her chair, then put her on his lap. She settled with more kneading then continued to stare at me, as did Trilby. "When he's good and ready, and nae before."

"I have a ship and men to atted to. Cordial as your hospitality has been, I can't wait around here for days."

"How bad do yea want tae be rid of that cannon? How bad do yea need food, water and rum for that devil ship of yours? Do yea have any other plan or money for getting such? I'd say yea have nae choice but tae wait."

"You're right, of course, but you don't have to gloat over the fact."

Trilby grinned, the lantern light making his teeth look like aged harpsicord keys. "I ne'r gloat, but I do enjoy watching an arrogant lass forced tae sit back on her haunches and bide by someone else's rules."

[Tess St. Claire]

Ioan hadn't paid much attention to the ruckus in the hallway—too intent on the Lady before him— until the pistol went off. He spun around and opened the door just enough to peer out. Gunpowder clouded the narrow space of the hall. Before he could decide whether to check further, a second round went off, echoing like thunder in the confined space.

Having no desire to be struck dead in the cause of someone else's problem, he backed away and shut the door.

Turning to Miss Saint Claire, he shrugged. "Interesting place you've chosen to take lodging. However, you might want to step to the back of the room, just in case a ball comes through the wall."

Lady Tess quickly fell back into her room as the stranger pushed the door close. “Looks like you have arrived at a most excited time!” She said standing there eyeing him up and down. “I’m sorry I did not get your name?” She moved over to her desk, knowing that there was a pistol lodged between a few bits of paper and the bible. “You seek me out…why? Is there something you think I can offer you?” She turned slowly towards the writing desk. “As for my choice of lodgings, this suits me just fine. I find the locals and their life style very…amusing.” Then in a blink of an eye she quickly pulls the pistol out from under the desk and smiles at the stranger. “Now then…out with it. Tell me who you are and why you are here! Who sent you?”

[Ransom]

Ioan grinned when he saw the pistol. "My name's Ioan. I used to be first mate on a ship called the Rakehell. A night back, a fellow named Jack slipped onto the ship looking for Killingsworth. He told me you'd pay top dollar to have the man returned to you. That's my original reason for being here, but I've since learned that Killingsworth is dead, and that you were seen running through the streets like some love-sick trollop, wanting to know where the body had gone. Very curious."

He walked toward her, the pistol barrel within a foot of his chest. "I thought if you were the kind of lady to employ someone like that Jack fellow, you might have other employment opportunities."

He slowly pushed away the pistol. "If I was a threat to you, you'd already be dead by now. I'd prefer to talk, and I hate talking with someone who's pointing a pistol at my chest. I promise, I mean you no harm. I want your coin, not your person."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Burke continued to evaluate the worth of leather case and what it might hold from half shadows dwelling in small by way. One never forgets their training, no matter how far they become removed from original teachings. Roberts moved away from younger to the warmer yellowed glow of lantern hang, his voice relayed with amused undercurrents.

"Now then, me bully boy....Seems be a cumbersome bit o' reading fer a lad yer age. Not to be sayin' tha' ye don' have the wits to be understandin' such....But are ye sure tha' be the proper tales....Don' hear much callin' for it, trut' be told...."

The Irishman hopped atop crowded desk to take seating, a mischievous smile glossing his expression.

"Tell me, young master....Wha' it would be to set yer cravin' such a t'in'? Tryin' to impress the lasses are ye wit' words o' refine? Or be it somet'in' else....?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

He walked next to wagon horse, leading his own. This place was far from Navarre's familiar paths, but the texture of dirt road underfoot could be any place chosen on any cartographer's rending. Moving Point A to Point B, moving parallel to horse motion gave comfort and conjured memories of life left behind across the sea. Unlike younger sibling's, Andre' Devareaux could happily return to vargo life, but there was some satisfaction gained, some form of retribution achieved with every deal that was made, with every pact that was drawn...with every tithe that was paid.

The sound of transport wagon's wheels rotation and grind over soil road lulled his mind, affording him some form of peace. It was a soundtrack to his thirty years survived and one that was relished fully as fine destilled spirit. Four riders followed in wagon wake, speaking quietly amongst themselves as the King of Beggar's Ball kept silent; his thoughts his own and rarely revealed. Buisness in Kingston had proven most prosperous and Andre' knew, beyond shadow of doubt, that young Lordling would beg service again. A hint of predatory satisfaction tickled the edges of Andre's mouth, such knowing of control and advantage was of richer sating than the profit itself.

Up ahead, the road forked; one path would take company towards the cottage, the other further inland. Procession was brought to halt with simple gesture while Roi Gitan considered what suited his mood best. Creak of saddle leather and shift of shod hoof played backdrop to musings, then indication was made for the later break of turned soil bordered by cane existance.

Eldest Devareaux had spent enough time within stucture confines, open sky parfumed with tropical scent was craved without disruption. Chosen encampment would be set, then one of the Four would be sent ahead to aquire information transpired in Leader's absence.

[Cheeky Actress]

(Mistress Lilly is still in dream state thinking about her past and her Captain)

He was drawn and confused from being turned away from her dressing room door by her dog’s body. With that thought in mind, she thought, perhaps tonight she would give chase to that gallant young Captain who almost tripped her up earlier in the night.

He took a seat next to the window, as if he was watching for someone. The tavern owner came over to him and greeted him. "What will it be?" The Captain turned and looked back at the tavern owner. "Port, please...and bring the bottle." She didn't move from her chair next to the fire. Her hood covered her completely, as did her black velvet mask. It wasn't until the tavern owner approached her again, did the Captain realize that he wasn't the only one in the tavern that night.

In the shadows, he could only make out the figure of a woman near the fire, yet sadly, he was still trying to recover from the fainting fit he had earlier that evening. He turned back towards the window looking through the foggy streets as if to see if he could capture a glimpse of the ivory colored chaise that left the back of the theater. He swore he saw the actress Lilly McKinney enter it and leave. Yet, by the time he managed to make his way through the crowd, it had disappeared from his site. All he knew is that it made its’ way towards the bridge. Now he sat in a darkly lit tavern on the edge of Old London Towne feeling ill and looking only to capture the glimpse of his lost love one more time. He turned away from the window to view the Lady by the fire once more. Taking another sip of port, he looked over in her direction. His face was pale and the cold sweat from a delusional apparition still chilled him to the bone. As he filled his glass once more and lifted it to his lips, he suddenly saw the figure of the woman turn towards him. He now noticed she wore the black Italian Moretta, which cloaked her identity. This application of discreetness was now becoming popular here in England as it was aboard in France, Venice and Italy. In his many travels abroad he remembered seeing them worn on both woman of power and prestige and ladies of fallen grace. They became the popular fancy of those who wish to indulge in a tryst without the strings of identity and the excitement of being incognito. Being that he didn’t wish to stare, he raised his glass out of a gesture of being polite and nodded his hello.

She didn’t dare move an inch when she saw him acknowledge her. Did he know who she was? She thought to herself. “How could it be that he may know who I am?” She asked herself once more as she looked back at him without a single motion. Her mind raced to think back to the stage door, racing to the side alley as her maid servant took her place in the chaise and took off for the evening leaving her to walk in the comfort of solitude for the evening. No, he couldn’t know who she was, that she was sure of. It was then an only then she nodded her reply to the Captain.

With hat in hand he moved from the chair next to the window and approached the Lady by the fire. He stood there for a moment, and then bowed ever so low proclaiming his identity to her. His words warmed with port, yet his tongue still strong of sense, he continued his introductions and his tale of his evening exploits. Of course, the Lady said nothing, but listened to him as he explained his evening out and his journey to the tavern. “So, you see, my sweet Lady. I am completely lost in Old London Towne and yet…I am still search for this elusive creature for she has captured my heart…eh, perhaps she is only a memory of my beloved wife…yet, I feel I must speak with her…only to hear her say my name would somehow make me feel whole once more.”

She trembled as he spoke to her. The excitement was too great. Oh, to hold back her tongue and not be able to tell him that it was she, the very one he was looking for, made her whole body tingle with delight! She could only sit still and have her eyes followed his as he spoke of his night out, the memory of his dead wife and the longing of finding this ‘lovely vision’ he spoke of. It was then the game began for her. It was then she took his hand. The Captain looked up into the soft black velvet face and saw two soft deep blue eyes staring back at him. They were like no others that he could recall and yet…they were very hauntingly familiar. Her hand was warm and he could feel it through the doeskin glove that covered it. Such a tender touch from a stranger he thought. She could feel him melt as she held his hand. It was then she decided to make her move. As she lent forward, as if she was about to speak, she quickly got up from her chair and walked towards the stairs to the upstairs rooms. She hovered at the bottom of the stairs for a moment. He watched her standing there…no words were spoken nor needed. She then turned slowly and walked up the stairs, only to have him follow her.

[Capt. Sterling]

"Tell me, young master....Wha' it would be to set yer cravin' such a t'in'? Tryin' to impress the lasses are ye wit' words o' refine? Or be it somet'in' else....?"

Sean Merriweather fixed a practiced frown upon the older man.

"My captain's seen well to my education, sir. Tis Measure for Measure that I be needen and we best be quick about it as well! There be those that be lurkin about in the shadows that would be happy to have their hands on any copies ye might be carryin as well... If my captain wants me to be reading Measure for Measure than I best not be disappointing him, so please to be fetching me a copy with good haste."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sean Roberts smiled amicably at the boys bold show of boisterous righting of reputation; Stockton gave nothing in opinion, standing with pursed lips as though in deep contemplation. Younger Irishman moved quietly from shadowed aura, stepping with natural stealth to stand just beyond and behind the boy with instrument burden.

Devon's liting brogue broke the silence of miniscule standoff, "So be tellin' us, me bully lad...An' take no offense to our curiosities abou' such a tale." A mischievous glint danced the depths of gray-blue sights, " Yer Captain must be a firs' rate fella to be wantin' the best fer his subordinate, aye?..."

Merriweather turned with a small start to Devon's shift of position. They eyed each other in parody of requested tome's title. The violin case was clutched a little tighter to chest and young chin was pushed forward in effort of deffient stance. Before words of counter thrust could be delivered, Roberts spoke in coaxing tone, bringing Merriweather's attention fleetingly away from antogonist.

"Jus' who be yer Captain, this fellah o' worldly ways?" He chuckled lightly, "Mayhaps we know him....or mayhaps we should?"

Young Sean's overall bearing gave a beam of pride with answer and the three that stood as audience traded glances of sudden understanding.

[Ransom]

As Trilby began to doze off, I decided to return to the Rakehell. Only Cleopatra saw me go.

When I was once again aboard my ship, I noticed that, even though Ioan was gone, the crew still wore sullen looks. No doubt over the penance of no rum for another two days. I greeted Africa, who informed me that all had been quiet during my absence, and that Tunny was on duty guarding the cannon. I nodded, and retired to my cabin.

It was hot and stuffy compared to the coolness of Trilby's rooftop, but I was tired, and still wearing my clothes, fell asleep within moments of laying down. My last thoughts were of the mysterious Andre', and what devil's bargain he might demand—and if I'd be willing to pay it.

[Aurore Devareaux]

The sound of rider on near road interrupted Christophe's action of water draw. The mount in question had a strange gait and was recognized instantaniously. Moving closer to front yard proximity, he listened as odd hoof strike reverberated near bridge and continued to progress at semi-slowed trot. Any doubt that may have played Frenchman's assumptions were clarrified and hail was issued.

Rider reined in at Mill entrance, rider dismounting to meet and allow quiet converse. Odd foot mount looked attentively towards structure having no interest in buisness parlay. Words were exchanged in regard to Kingston accords; information relayed in part of current happenings on this side of the bay.

"Andre'?" Christophe queried.

"Up to the old Maroon encampment."

The Frenchman resisted the urge to show outword relief; the Elder had been known to stay out in the bush for days when inclination struck right. Changing subject, mention was made of Allisters and companion. Nothing more need be said, Rider nodded sagely in reply to indicate knowing of what need be done. They spoke for momments more then mount was regained and goaded back to resume Port destination.

[Rats]

"What's the matter with you lad?" Demanded Abbi, as she nudged young Mr. Davis. "You've barely touched your meal?"

"..nothing like that maam. I'm fine..."

As Reiley greedily devoured his meal, he couldn't help but notice the change of character in the young Mr. Davis. It was obvious to Reiley the lad was far from a child. But at the same time perhaps such a skirmish was not what he had expected from "the good doctor".

As Reiley watched Abbi walk from the room, he took the opportunity to address young Davis and put to end any issues the young man might have.

"Not what you were expecting. Was it?" Started Reiley

"Sir?" Asked Davis, surprised at the sudden confrontation.

"You havn't said two words in the last day." informed Reiley. "Either you're sick or you have something on your mind... I figured it was probably something to do with what happened on the road."

"I'm glad your well, sir." Replied Davis, after a moment of silence. "I just wish.... I could have.. Helped."

"What's that?" asked Reiley, surprised at Davis' reply.

"Yes Sir," Added Davis. "I think if I might 'ad pistol o'me'own and knew how to use it right, I could 'ave save you."

"What a good lad." thought Reiley. Here he was worried he would have to have a long talk about "the terrible world" only to have the young man show a rare kind of loyalty.

"You think you could have saved me aye?" asked Reiley, kicking Davis under the table, til the youngman stopped pouting.

"Yes sir I do!" Davis snapped with a grin. "You got lazy and forgot to duck! I 'ad me a gun, I could have dropped the bastard afore he pulled his pistol and shot you!"

"Is that so?!" snapped Reiley.

"That it is!!" Demanded Davis, pounding his fist on the table.

"Very well then, Mr. Sharpshooter!" Announced Reiley. "Looks like I'll be having to teach you a thing or two then."

[Aurore Devareaux]

After checking to assure of comfort to equine charges, Christophe returned to the shelter of Mill walls. Coming in from the rear entrance, he paused step to take in the allure of tantalizing kitchen scent. Well remembered were the well rounded talents of culinary means at Madame Crane's beck and call. He moved forward into the origin of Siren call, nodding silent greeting to all at table occupation.

Abbi made motion to rise, balked by the Frenchman's waving off. Making his way about the room, utensiles and plate were aquired with knowing navigation. Plate was filled then place was taken at former surgery surface's far end. With first spoonful taken in, Christophe smiled in appreciation then took draught from near tankard.

Fixing Abbi with a coy expression he announced in ever calm manner,

"Madame, there are many things which I count a pleasure...And many pleasures that I may long for in deep craving. But, it is this stew that I miss greatly when I think of those things that stir my want and whim."

Mill Mistress laughed, amusement glinting in aged eyes, "Posh!!...You have been in Sabastian's company too long, monsieur. Silver tongued both of you."

[Rats]

Taking notice of Christophe's entry and the common friendship he obviously held with his dear Abbi, Reiley stood and offered a welcomed handshake.

"Mr. Christophe, it's good to see you again." grinned Reiley. "And I believe a thanks is also in order."

[Aurore Devareaux]

The Frenchman raised slightly to accept the other's hand in his own, finding the clasp to be of firm qualities, "De rien, Monsieur Reiley. It was a situation of fortunate and misfortunate bearings. "

Letting loose his hold, Christophe resumed seating, sights travelling to Mistress McKinney briefly then back to Reiley, "You seem to be regaining your strenghth in a timely fashion, but I 'ave a suspicion that wounds of said nature are not unfamilliar ground on many levels..."

A hint of knowing smile traced the Frenchman's expression as statement was left to hang. Simple pitcher of small beer content was reached for, then chunk of bread torn and laid near stew laden plate.

"I doubt that those involved in recent past shall rise up to 'inder you again." Christophe commented off-handedly with accommpaniment of low chuckle.

[Rats]

The point well taken, Reiley found himself almost embarrassed he needed the frenchman's assistance. Still, having given such help in the heroic fashion demonstrated and without the option to refuse, the frenchman had found a friend in Jacob Reiley.

"I tell her she should take this to market... Ouch!" Added Reiley and gesturing toward the bread, as his elbows were slapped from the table.

"Perhaps I could make enough to sell, if the likes of you wouldn't eat it all." Clucked Abbi, as she refilled the pitcher.

"There's that bakery shop on water street!" Interrupted Davis. "The one 'use t-be ouned by Mr. Howard 'fore he got hit by that s'hitewagon."

"You see! It would be perfect!" Demanded Reiley, as he looked to Abbi's approval.

But as he looked to her for approval, he noticed a look of apprehension appear hidden by a playful kindness that brought commonsense to all of his idiotic schemes.

"And leave all of this!" Demanded Abbi. "I don't think so Mr. Reiley! Besides, a town like that couldn't handle me!"

[Aurore Devareaux]

Christophe supressed the want to smile at the interchange, hidding such behind draught from pewter tankard. As vessel was lowered, he glanced to where Mistress McKinney seemed deep in some form of solace with the room's attention drawn elsewhere.

Returning focus to the plate afore him, procured bread of touted manner was used to mop the dregs. The banter contiued betwixt Injured and Elder, young Davis watching on as if following a bout of tennis; Lilly deep in vigil. Small beer remnants were drained and Christophe considered filling tankards want, but true desire lay in ridding himself of stale clothing and a heart to heart dip in near stream.

[Rats]

"Get away from there, you scamp!" Bellowed Abbi. "Yer to be healin' and such! Not prancing around me kitchen!"

"I can help you with my dishes, if I have the mind!" protested Reiley, as he was swatted in the backside with Abbi's trusty broom.

"I should have left the bullet in you, You no-goodnic!" Snapped Abbi, as she continued to oust Reiley.

"Very well then madam!" Announced Reiley in a false bravado. "If my services are not appre-ciated... I will take my leave!"

[Ransom]

Professor Trilby woke with a start, and was somewhat dismayed to find himself on the rooftop alone, but for Cleopatra. The only other thing staring back at him were the blank, black eyes of the reconstructed dog skeleton, on guard by the door to the stairs.

With a grunt, Trlby stood, dumping the cat to the floor. With tale twitching in protest, she trotted off into the darkness of the staircase. Before following her, Trilby glanced quickly at the chair so lately occupied by the interesting young woman. He very much wanted to know what her story was. How had she come to the life she now led? She was obviously well educated and came from a well-off family, so what crossroads in her life had caused her to choose the life of a wanted vagabond? It was a puzzlement, and Trilby very much liked solving puzzels.

He walked to the stairwell, then paused, looking back over the city and its jumble of rooftops. Despite the sulty warmth of the evening he shivered, and wondered if it might have been a mistake to arrange a meeting with Andre'. Yes, he thought, now it was too late to halt the process, I wish I had not mentioned the eldest Devareaux to Ransom. I fear no good will come of it. Or...he had a more horrifing thought...they might get on thick as thieves.

A yeowl from below interrupted his thoughts. "I'm coming, yea pagan queen," he mumbled, then took the lantern, its candle guttering, and decended the stairs.

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling waited patiently as Aurore went to check on the latest disturbance at the cottage. The hour was growing late and as the sun disappeared, lowering to darkness behind the trees, a tenseness overcame the inhabitants once again as yet another horseman entered the compound, the hard clap of galloping hoves, striking hard against the packed earth.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief as the rider was hailed and then welcomed as someone well known amongst them all...but in the end, his sigh was one of continued frustration as he heard his name bandied about and then recognized the young voice of his eldest midshipman.

"Now what?" he muttered angrily under his breath as the sounds of people moved back into the cottage and made their way up the stairs.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Beggar Prince had always been known for tendencies of light sleeping and even within the sanctuary of domocile, this quality still held true. The sound of rider stirred his senses on unconscious levels; the hailing calls beconed full awarness. The door of neighboring chamber opening and closing, brought Sabastian to upright position and he deserted deep and tempting four poster comfort for retrieval of cast off breeks. Observation of near total darkness, lent judgement that the hour was much later than first assumed.

Without bother of further adornments, he left bedroom tranquility to follow where sister's padding had occured momments before. Staircase was conquered with agile step, emptying to foyer expanse and bare feet landed with assured placement to level surface as main door swung open revealing those known and one unfamiliar.

Smallish crease formed on swarth toned brow in silent question to the man that stood just behind and right of youngster. One brow raised in minute gesture to noir case craddled protectively in same said's arms. Sean Roberts gave brief explaination, then nuged the boy forward gently.

Sabastian listened patiently, dark gaze playing over curvitures of sacred burden then gave nod of silent acknowledgement.

Aurore moved around Irishman's stance, offering a hand to young Merriweather and coup d'oeil to sibling. Sabastian stood to the side, proffering wide sweep of arm towards stairwell bearing. Youngster hesitantly took proffered hand, still clutching case with other arm. A determined expression lay over his features as trio navigated hall legnth and finale chamber was unsealed.

As the boy entered, leaving kindred escorts in thresh hold framing, Sabastian fixed Sterling with mirth swimming his eyes and familliar smirk teasing wolfish features.

"Capitaine, at this rate I shall be forced to build on or aquire a larger home..."

[Capt. Sterling]

As the boy entered, leaving kindred escorts in thresh hold framing, Sabastian fixed Sterling with mirth swimming his eyes and familliar smirk teasing wolfish features.

"Capitaine, at this rate I shall be forced to build on or aquire a larger home..."

But the Captain was not pleased...he had not been raised to cause disturbances for hosts nor hostesses. And yet when he took notice of the case clutched tightly in the lad's small hands, he struggled to sit upright.

"Did Mr. March send ye, Mr. Merriweather?" Sterling asked, his voice a mere hush as he spoke.

"Aye he did, Sir, and sorry he is to burden ye Captain, but Mr. March said this could not wait," Sean answered. He had bowed slightly as he neared the bed then cautiously, as if the contents of the case might explode upon contact with the bedclothes, he placed the violin case down next to Sterling's side.

"Good lad. Nicely done Mr. Merriweather," Sterling said and yet, it was obvious that he was not pleased with the turn of affairs... nor the knick on the case's corner that had occured when chucked all too hastily through the book shop window. Absent mindedly he reached for the chain that he wore about his neck but the item and keys along with it had been removed from his person when he had be stripped for Reiley's all too necessary digging the day before. He looked to Aurore where she stood in the doorway.

"Mistress Devareaux, my things if ye would be so kind," he said, his voice softening as his gaze settled upon the youngest of the clan.

[Aurore Devareaux]

The rustle of layered silks whispered to the temprate air as she moved to large armoir taking rule over right wall. A polished box of teak origins was removed, along with mated key. Carrying it to opposit side of the vast mattressed fortitude, she unlocked ornate keeper and slid ablong length towards Sterling's reach. Within velvet confines lay blade, pistols and various other objects that had been removed for safe keeping.

Aurore hovered mommentarily to assure that no assistance was needed, then returned to Sabastian's side, watching quietly.

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling observed the care filled attention with which the items had been secreted away into custody.

“Wait Chere,” he called after her, then remembered the others in the room and quickly cleared his throat. “I could do with your hands Lady,” he added, removing the chain from its keeping. “The smaller key,” he noted as she came close once more. “It will unlock the case. Remove the violin and, yer fingers should be delicate enough… there will be a note inside the instrument’s body. If ye would be so kind as to retrieve it for me…I would not bother ye so but…” to emphasize his meaning he awkwardly lifted the left arm in its sling and instantly wished he hadn’t.

[Aurore Devareaux]

She suppressed a smile as hequickly covered up affectionate beginnings of address. The hint of discomfort that played Sterling's face in direct response to appendage movement , brought a look of concern and caution to her own. Aurore did as he wished, nimble fingers making short work of key and lock, the case lid drawn back to allow golden lumination of lamp placement to caress hidden treasure.

From Sabastian's semi-close placement, the warm carmel wood brought a look of appraisal and appreciation. Instrument was carefully removed from padded hibernation and Auroure eyed sunken treasure within. With the deft action of trained hands, parchment was released from ornate coffine and handed to intended.

[Capt. Sterling]

“Merci,” Sterling said. With a quick glance back into the interior of the box that protected his possessions he spied his quizzing lense. He unfolded the paper and brought the lense into place before his good eye and rapidly made work of the communication before him. Angrily, at message’s closing, he began to crumple the paper, thought better of it and reread it once again. Upon second conclusion, he did indeed crush the letter in his hand than passed it over to Mr. Merriweather. “Dispose of this if ye please, sir,” he whispered. He sat back against the head board, his gaze fixing on the instrument besides him. Lovingly his fingers played along the smooth curve of the violin’s form and then one string was plucked. He allowed himself a moment to close his eyes as the sound played itself out. “Mr. Merriweather, would ye be so kind as to fetch Dr. Reiley. I believe he is down the hall in the guest bedroom. Ask him here please.”