and said, “I love you, goodnight, goodnight, I love you.”
Returning her hug, Sigmund responded, “Goodnight, I love you, I love you, goodnight.”
Back in the living room, Jamison was waiting near the door with Sigmund’s overcoat in hand. Alexis was standing next to him with his hat and umbrella and she asked, “When are you going to find out about this favor?”
“I’m going to his home now.”
“Now?” Alexis said in surprise. “It is getting late and the storm has not let up!”
“I know, but I need to get this resolved. There is simply no way I will be getting any sleep with this hanging over my head, so I might as well get it over with.”
“Would you like me to go with you?” Jamison asked.
Sigmund smiled, “No, that is alright. If there is trouble to be faced, it will be with the favor itself, not with the meeting of this man. His mind is strange, maybe even dangerous, but physically he is not much.”
Jamison nodded and then helped him into his coat.
“Can Zachary stay here tonight?” Sigmund asked.
Zachary was asleep near the fireplace and twitched an ear at the sound of his name. “Of course he can,” answered Alexis. “Sarah will be happy to see him in the morning.”
“Thank you. I’ll collect him tomorrow.”
After the goodbyes were said, Alexis added, “Please be careful.”
Placing his top hat on his head, he answered, “I will. I promise.” He then walked out the front door and opened his umbrella. Once outside of the warmth of his sister’s home and heading to Dr. Ferriss’, the cold hit him hard, freezing right to his core – the weather being only partly to blame.
3.
“A bad idea?” Charlotte Merrihail said, her green eyes growing wide in astonishment. “It has already been proven to be a great idea!”
The night’s storm raged outside of the second story office window of Warren Godwit, Charlotte’s editor at The Strand Magazine , and a storm was brewing inside the office as well. The room was welcomingly warm and well lit, both by electric light and the oil lamp on Mr. Godwit’s desk that he never forsook to light. After adjusting his position on his chair, causing the leather to squeak, he ran a hand over his grey beard, and let out a sigh. “Charlotte, you must see reason. The story that could come of this would indeed be interesting. The bad part is how you would get the story. Do you not see the dangers?”
A lock of her red hair had come loose during this animated discussion and Charlotte tucked it behind her ear. She was too agitated to sit in one of the two plush chairs that faced her editor’s desk, choosing to stand and pace as she made her arguments. Calming her movements, she stopped for a few moments to consider the question asked of her – she may be enthusiastic, but she was not unreasonable – and finally answered, “I honestly believe that the dangers are minimal. The worst scenario that I can think of is that I am somehow discovered and am escorted out before I get the story.”
“That is the worst case you can think of?” her editor asked incredulously while tilting his head, “because I can think of worse. You have heard the whispered rumours of that place. What if one of your potential roommates attack you? They are beyond rules and conscience!”
“Mr. Godwit, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Besides, I think your scenario is quite unlikely.”
“Maybe so, but I do not like this at all.”
Charlotte stared out of the window for a moment, the rain pelted it violently and she could just make out an obscured light from a neighboring building, and then looked back at her boss. Her face, recently flushed with excitement, now looked serious, almost sad. She said, “These people cannot take care of themselves and those assigned to watch them have little or no oversight. And yes, Mr. Godwit, I am well aware of the whispers from that
Returning her hug, Sigmund responded, “Goodnight, I love you, I love you, goodnight.”
Back in the living room, Jamison was waiting near the door with Sigmund’s overcoat in hand. Alexis was standing next to him with his hat and umbrella and she asked, “When are you going to find out about this favor?”
“I’m going to his home now.”
“Now?” Alexis said in surprise. “It is getting late and the storm has not let up!”
“I know, but I need to get this resolved. There is simply no way I will be getting any sleep with this hanging over my head, so I might as well get it over with.”
“Would you like me to go with you?” Jamison asked.
Sigmund smiled, “No, that is alright. If there is trouble to be faced, it will be with the favor itself, not with the meeting of this man. His mind is strange, maybe even dangerous, but physically he is not much.”
Jamison nodded and then helped him into his coat.
“Can Zachary stay here tonight?” Sigmund asked.
Zachary was asleep near the fireplace and twitched an ear at the sound of his name. “Of course he can,” answered Alexis. “Sarah will be happy to see him in the morning.”
“Thank you. I’ll collect him tomorrow.”
After the goodbyes were said, Alexis added, “Please be careful.”
Placing his top hat on his head, he answered, “I will. I promise.” He then walked out the front door and opened his umbrella. Once outside of the warmth of his sister’s home and heading to Dr. Ferriss’, the cold hit him hard, freezing right to his core – the weather being only partly to blame.
3.
“A bad idea?” Charlotte Merrihail said, her green eyes growing wide in astonishment. “It has already been proven to be a great idea!”
The night’s storm raged outside of the second story office window of Warren Godwit, Charlotte’s editor at The Strand Magazine , and a storm was brewing inside the office as well. The room was welcomingly warm and well lit, both by electric light and the oil lamp on Mr. Godwit’s desk that he never forsook to light. After adjusting his position on his chair, causing the leather to squeak, he ran a hand over his grey beard, and let out a sigh. “Charlotte, you must see reason. The story that could come of this would indeed be interesting. The bad part is how you would get the story. Do you not see the dangers?”
A lock of her red hair had come loose during this animated discussion and Charlotte tucked it behind her ear. She was too agitated to sit in one of the two plush chairs that faced her editor’s desk, choosing to stand and pace as she made her arguments. Calming her movements, she stopped for a few moments to consider the question asked of her – she may be enthusiastic, but she was not unreasonable – and finally answered, “I honestly believe that the dangers are minimal. The worst scenario that I can think of is that I am somehow discovered and am escorted out before I get the story.”
“That is the worst case you can think of?” her editor asked incredulously while tilting his head, “because I can think of worse. You have heard the whispered rumours of that place. What if one of your potential roommates attack you? They are beyond rules and conscience!”
“Mr. Godwit, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Besides, I think your scenario is quite unlikely.”
“Maybe so, but I do not like this at all.”
Charlotte stared out of the window for a moment, the rain pelted it violently and she could just make out an obscured light from a neighboring building, and then looked back at her boss. Her face, recently flushed with excitement, now looked serious, almost sad. She said, “These people cannot take care of themselves and those assigned to watch them have little or no oversight. And yes, Mr. Godwit, I am well aware of the whispers from that
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