he possibly expecting us?” Matilda asked.
“Getting word to Vambéry is akin to sending up a smoke signal and instructing it to turn at the top of the hill and proceed west. He has no permanent address or mail drop for receiving letters, telegrams, or messages. Nobody knows where he rests his weary head at night; he once informed me that he never sleeps in the same place twice. I’m not certain Vambéry is even his real name. Most believe he is some kind of spy working for the government, but of course there is no evidence to prove or disprove this theory. He always seems to know the most obscure facts, and in that regard has served as an instructor at a number of institutions of higher learning; speaking to him, in fact, is a bit like conversing with a library in human form. I have yet to find a topic on which he cannot speak with confidence.”
The man in the bowler returned, carefully navigating the steps to accommodate his bad leg. “Mr. Vambéry is in the Green Room.”
He ushered us past, and we climbed the stairs.
* * *
? ? ?
THE DOOR TO THE GREEN ROOM was at the end of the hall, the chamber being Vambéry’s preferred space while in attendance at the Hellfire Club. We found him inside, sitting at the head of a grand table, with two other gentlemen in attendance I did not recognize. As we stepped into the room, both men stood and simply left; there were no hellos, no good-byes. They passed us and walked down the hall towards the stairs leading back to the main floor.
“Come in, my friend!” Vambéry said. “It is most excellent to see you again.”
Vambéry was about my height and appeared ten or so years older. His dark hair was closely cropped, as were his beard and mustache. I had once heard that both beard and mustache were false and attached with glue, offering him the ability to quickly alter his appearance. In all my time around the man, I never once saw anything to indicate that either were anything but authentic.
“Please, close the door behind you,” he said.
Bram did so, the lock automatically engaged with an audible click.
Vambéry reached out and took Matilda’s hand, raising it gently to his lips. “Who is this beautiful young woman?”
Matilda’s cheeks flushed. “I thought names went unspoken in this little clubhouse?”
Vambéry shrugged his shoulders. “The old, stuffy members would like us all to adhere to that little rule, but I, for one, prefer to know who I am speaking to at all times, particularly when that company is one as glowing as yourself.”
“That is my sister, Matilda,” I told him. “And this is Bram.”
He encased Matilda’s hand with his own. “A pleasure.” He then turned to Bram. “And how are you enjoying your post at Dublin Castle?”
Bram tilted his head. “How do you know where I’m employed?”
“I make it my business to know everyone with a position in the government, from the very top down to the clerk’s office. I have heard good things about you, Bram. Sounds like you might be the one to finally bring some organization to the Petty Sessions office. I look forward to seeing what you do there. I am also very fond of your father. He is a man I deeply respect. And your brother as well; there is not a finer physician in Dublin.”
A servant entered through a door at the back of the room and set a tray with an assortment of meats and cheeses on the table. There were also three cups and saucers and a black kettle with steam rising from its spout. “Please, join me for tea,” Vambéry said. “I grew fond of this particular spiced tea while traveling in the Balkans. I made sure no matter how spartan my kit, a small kettle and cups and saucers were always with me. Try it, please. If it is not to your liking, I will have some coffee brewed instead.”
I found the tea to be quite enjoyable and told him so; both Matilda and Bram concurred.
He gestured at the table. “Please,