Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(40)

I caught an omnibus from the city to Highgate. Instead of heading straight home, I detoured via the cemetery. The costermonger and his cart weren't there today, thank goodness, and no other passengers alighted behind me. I was satisfied that I had not been followed and was no longer being watched. It was a considerable relief.

I couldn't find Mr. Tucker, so I sought out the chap with the port wine birthmark. I found him sitting under a tree munching on his lunch. He scrambled to his feet, doffed his cap and tucked his chin into his chest.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you." It was like talking to a stray cat. I had to keep both my movements and voice gentle, soothing. "I hope you can answer a question for me about the grave that was dug up."

He nodded.

"Have you been near there since the body was reburied?"

He nodded.

"Is it still buried?"

Another nod.

"Are you aware of anyone taking an interest in the grave since then?"

"No, miss," he mumbled.

"Thank you. That's all. Please continue to enjoy your lunch."

So it would seem we were right; the captain hadn't wanted to risk digging up Gordon again. Our only way to find the man was at Mr. Lee's—if he paid the den another visit.

***

Despite having the day off, I completed some chores after lunch. Lincoln had returned while I was out and was resting in his rooms, while Gus kept watch at Lee's. It was quite late in the day when Lincoln joined me in the parlor as I rubbed beeswax into one of the tabletops.

"We can get an hour of training in before I head out again," he said.

I glanced out the window. The sun's final rays cast a sepia glow over the front garden. It would be dark soon. "Not today, if that's all right with you. I want to talk instead."

He rested a hand on the mantel. "About?"

"About the ministry."

He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "Very well. First, tell me how your investigations went this morning."

I told him which orphanages I'd visited and what I'd learned from them, as well as at the cemetery. I didn't mention my detour to the GRO. "The captain hasn't been back to Thackery's grave."

"We'll find him at Lee's or one of the other opium dens," he said. "Not the cemetery."

"You're very confident, but I don't see how you can be. You can't possibly watch all the opium dens in London. There are only three of you."

"I've paid each proprietor a substantial sum to report to me if a man fitting the captain's description shows up and doesn't partake in smoking. I'm confident my money will bring results."

I smiled. "You've thought of everything."

"I know how these operations work."

"How? You said you knew Lee's…" I couldn't meet his gaze anymore and returned to polishing the table.

"You want to know if I smoke opium."

I shrugged one shoulder. "It crossed my mind."

"I have."

His answer startled me into looking at him again. "Oh. I see. Well."

"Don't you want to know more?"

"I don't want to pry."

"Yes, you do." Despite his accusation, he didn't sound angry or offended. "You have a curious nature."

"Some would say nosy."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I would rather you asked me questions directly instead of others. That way you'll be sure to get the right answer."

If he wanted to answer at all. "Very well. How did you end up becoming an opium addict?"

"I wasn't an addict. I experimented with it as part of my studies when I was younger."

"You experimented with it?" I echoed. "How does one experiment with opium? And to what end?"

"I smoked it five times over five weeks to study the effects."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Why not? It's just another piece of knowledge, and knowledge is necessary in my position."

"When you put it like that, it sounds quite innocent. I think of opium smoking as a sordid habit that lures desperate men."

"It can be, if one partakes too often. As Gordon Thackery did, by his own admission. An addict is not a pretty sight."

"I've seen men coming and going from a garret in Bluegate Fields, near where I once lived. We all knew it was an opium house. I'd often see the same men on street corners, begging for money that they would spend at the garret later that night. There was such an air of hopeless about them, as if they were caught in a web they couldn't escape. It was awful."

"That's generally how addiction works. It's difficult to break free once it digs its claws in."

"You never felt the pull of the opium when you experimented? You never wanted to partake more than once a week?"

He shook his head. "Like you, I'd seen what it could do to a man. One of my tutors showed me the addicts like you describe."

"That's an odd thing for a tutor to do. What was the subject he taught?"

"It didn't have an official name. I called it Slums and Scums Studies, but not to my tutor's face."

I laughed. "How many tutors did you have?"