At Bournemouth House:

Abberline *after a sleepless night, goes to the kitchen to find something to drink when he hears someone knocking; he winces, goes to the door, opens reluctantly and smiles nervously, seeing Blake*  So you got my note ...  There's no breakfast today, but I can make coffee if you want, but I'd rather have just a drink myself.  I had a late night and found him there in the chair when I came home, I suspect Sergeant Godley has been waiting for me for long.  I don't want to wake him up, so let's go to the study … 

*They walk past the living room doorway and see a glimpse of Godley sleeping in a chair, Abberline lights a cigarette with a slightly trembling hand and forgets to offer Blake one as he goes upstairs.  The framed picture is still on the desk with the wedding photo*  You said you didn't know what she looks … looked like.  *takes the picture and gives it to Blake*  This is Victoria.  *feels that he's talking too much and too fast, takes a brandy bottle and pours it in two glasses*

Blake *looks at picture quietly for a minute*  She was really beautiful.  *sets picture down, takes one of the glasses, looks at Abberline sympathetically*  Inspector, I can’t imagine what it must be like to have to live with ... all that.  I don’t know how I could ever be the same.  I’d be … *peers at him carefully*  Inspector, are you all right?  I could come back another time …

Abberline:  Thanks.  She was very beautiful.  No, don't go.  *forces himself to look at the wedding pic, points at it, pretends he really wants to show it to Blake, which he doesn't*  So ... You know, I was going through these pictures, I have to make my peace with the past some day ... I had almost forgotten the good times, like the wedding, though it was such a formal occasion.  Her parents wanted it that way.  I remember trying to find a ring she would like and how hard it was to do it alone.  Now, this gave me an idea.  *Uncomfortably*  I don't know if you are going to like it at all, but I heard that you are getting married properly ... so I thought that I could perhaps do something for you and Manouche.  I don't know how to thank her for all she's done for Raven and for me.  *after a pause, looking still at the picture*  I could help you.  Or maybe you even know what kind of ring you want for her and I am just meddling.  *lights a new cigarette*  Maybe it would help me, too, after all, remind me of the short happy time we spent together ...  *looks at Blake, tries to smile but fails*  What do you say?

Blake *smiles*  I think it’s a fine idea.  I hadn’t really decided what to get, but I definitely want to get her a ring.  We talked about it a little, she didn’t want me spending the money on it, says she doesn’t need it … but this isn’t about need, is it?  It’s something I want to do for her.  I hadn’t started looking yet, but now’s as good a time as any, and I would appreciate your assist in making a selection.  Not meddling at all, I’m obliged.  That is, if you’re sure … I mean, I know you want to do something for us, but … well, it doesn’t have to be this.  If it’s too painful for you, don’t do it.  On the other hand, if you think it’ll help you make peace with all this …  *waves hand toward the pictures* … then, well, maybe we’ll be helpin’ each other.  *grins*  Guess it’ll do you good to go into town for something that doesn’t involve trying to forget, or meeting those bastards from the Order.  *pats him on the back*  It’s very kind of you, Abberline.  After I’ve surprised Manouche with the ring, I’ll be sure and tell her what a large part you played in it all.  *holds up glass, drinks brandy, sets glass down on desk.*  Shall we go?  *looks at him still a little uncertainly*

Abberline *sinks in the chair at the desk*  I don't think I can do this ...  *fixes his gaze on a pattern on the Afghan carpet*  It's for her ...  *meaning Victoria, not Manouche*  Wouldn't you be ready to do anything for her?  After all these years ... Blake, I haven't had a life after that, just going on for one reason ... No, I am ready.  *gets up so fast that by accident brushes the framed photo to the floor, the glass breaks and shatters, he remains staring at it*

Blake:  Careful, Inspector … *picks up a couple of magazines – Monuments Illustrated and the Deppville Tattler – and carefully scoops up as much of the glass as he can, throws it in a trash can by the desk.  Picks up the photo and remains of the frame, sets them on desk.  Looks at Abberline, smirks*  Always looks so symbolic in the movies, doesn’t it?  Just a broken frame, that’s all.  *pats him on the shoulder*  C’mon, let’s go into town, like we planned.  You said you’re ready.  Let’s go find a ring for my girl.  *leads Abberline to door*

Abberline:  I don't believe in that kind of superstition.  Are you sure about this?  *hesitates*  Maybe you should first try to find out from Manouche what kind of rings she likes.  Maybe her taste is very different from mine.  Maybe it just turns out to be a disaster.  *looks at the photo once more, frowns*  I guess I am ready then.  *walks down the stairs after Blake*  Wait a minute, I've got to get my jacket …

Blake *stops midway down the stairs, watches him turn back, calls after him*  No worries, Inspector, I know her taste in jewelry well enough, an’ it won’t be a surprise if I talk about it to her.  *waits a moment, then remembers he left his cigarettes in the study; goes back up the stairs into the room, finds ciggies on desk.  Turns to go, a paper on the desk, partially concealed by a folder, catches his eye.  Leans over, reads the top part of it, realizes to his horror that it’s a legal document concerning Victoria’s death, possibly from the police; cold, official.  Quickly looks away, lights a cigarette with a shaky hand, thinks to himself*  My god, why does he keep something like that?  *glances around the room, walks out, down the stairs, waits at front door for Abberline*

Abberline *takes the jacket and shoves his gun in the pocket, and as he is about to go after Blake, he suddenly has a vision of Manouche opening the door, takes after his laudanum bottle, pours a good amount into a glass and adds some brandy to get rid of the vision before he sees who she opens it for, drops on the bedside.  After a while his heart stops racing wildly and as the rate slows down, he feels a little calmer, but more and more reluctant to face Blake again, but goes slowly downstairs anyway*  Well, I am here. Let's go. *looks down as the begin to walk, trying to find something to talk about*  I suppose she would like diamonds ... Have you settled on a date already?  *looks at Blake*  Blake .... I don't know if I am able to do this ...  

Blake *stares at him, deeply concerned*  Ah, a date … October 16, we’re thinking … if that works out with everyone else.  Y’know, we need to check with Marijke for catering, stuff like that … Inspector, I’m worried about you.  I … I confess, I saw one of the legal documents on your desk about the … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.  Soon as I saw what it was, I quit reading it, I swear.  I don’t want to tell you your business, but maybe you’d feel better if you get rid of all that stuff.  What’s done is done.  I know this outing today was your idea, but maybe you’re not ready just yet.  It's awfully kind of you, but … you don’t have to do it.  You could do something else to show your appreciation to Manouche, it doesn’t have to be this.  You know how she is, she won’t expect you to do anything.  As she says, yer a mate.  *smiles*  How 'bout we stop off at Chez Roux, get a drink first?  There's no hurry, we've got all day.

Abberline:  I don't want to get rid of it.  I want to remember it all to the most minute detail, what's done is done, as you say, but I am not through with it.  Not yet ...  If you saw the crime scene pics or the autopsy report, you maybe would understand me better ...  I don't think you will.  Can't blame you for that.  *stops at the door to Chez Roux*  Maybe it's a better idea to get drunk ...

At Chateau Blanchefort:

Corso *flashes a bright smile at Colonel*  You remember what they say about dishonest men, don't you, and that's why you can trust me.  I have no intention of bringing a disaster upon me.  The Commander doesn't have to find out a thing, you get what you want and I get what I want and everybody is happy, why spoil it.  If you get into any trouble with those men, just drop any obscure hint you want and they'll help you with everything you want for the fear that you know ... And if you need more, just contact me and I provide you with more information.  I know more about them than they about me, that's the way I stay in business.  Believe me, everything is going to end up just fine and you'll be returning to Deppville.  After all, can anyone resist a place like this?  *looks at her, the suddenly gives her a kiss on the cheek*  Give my regards to Hanson.

Colonel *gives shy smile, blushes slightly at the kiss, shakes thought away, tries to sound serious*  Yes, I will do that, Dean.  Uhm, if they give me any trouble, I'll contact you.  If Hanson doesn't threaten them first.  I'll try to keep him under control.  Well, I should be going then.  *holds out a hand for him to shake*

Corso *takes her hand with both hands, looks hear steady in the eye*  It's been a real pleasure to do business with you.  *clears throat*  Say, when you come back, could I take you out for a drink sometime?  *adds hurriedly, grins once again*  Just for business purposes, of course.  We might have lots to talk about when you come back, don't you think?  *steps a little closer*

Colonel *stands still, feels as if her heart is pounding in her throat, she tries to swallow it down, mouth closed, runs her tongue over her teeth, flashes a slight smile, swallows once more*  A drink?  *pauses*  Business purposes ... course.  Yea, maybe ... ok.  Lots to talk about ...  *her heart pounds in her throat once more, almost choking her, as he steps closer*

Corso:  Yes, I think we have lots to talk about, you and me ...  I'll be waiting for you to come back and give me all the … details ...  *brushes her cheek with his fingers*  Can I have a goodbye kiss?

Colonel *swallows her heart in her throat, closes her eyes at his touch*  You know I'd be more than willing if I weren't married, Mr. Corso.  *opens her eyes*  But I should be going ...

Corso:  Of course, of course ...  *but doesn't back off*  I only wanted to say goodbye.  *looks her straight in the eyes*  For now.  You'll be back, won't you?  *leans forward*  Not even a hug then?

Colonel:  Yes, I'll be back ... uhm, ok, a hug … yea.  *leans in, gives him a hug*

Corso *hugs her tight, releases her, smiles*  It's been a real pleasure dealing with you.  *looks concerned at the computer screen*  The Commander will be soon here ...  *takes her hand*  I'll lead you out by the back door.

Colonel:  OK.  *follows him to a back door, stomach tied in knots, thoughts jumbled in bunches, her heart still in her throat as he grasps her hand*

On The Lancet:

Raven *having found a small unoccupied room on the ship, locks door, lights a small lantern, keeping the flame low.  Sits down at small table, takes vial out of pocket, looks at it for a few minutes.  Opens it, sniffs contents, notices little aroma other than a slight scent of anise.  Glances at door behind him, turns back to vial; shrugs, brings to his lips, drinks contents.  Sits back, thinks about some of the things that Malachi character said earlier, tries to remember … tries to concentrate …  *

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Manouche:  Blast!!  *swears as she bangs her head on inside of oven.  While trying to make a fresh batch of croissants, she realized the pilot light had gone out.  As she went to light it, she noticed that the oven was filthy.  She got out cleaning supplies, started scrubbing away at the inside of the oven; footing slipped a little, and she hit her head.*

Manouche *slowly emerges from inside oven, holding can of oven cleaner.  Rises, rubbing head with free hand, frowning.  Picks up one of the flat metal panels she’d removed from inside the oven, soaking in the sink.  Looks it over, pleased with how shiny it is.  Blinks, peers closer at it … feels her legs turn to water as she sees the reflection of a man silently approaching her from behind, hands held up, holding something stretched between them … a long strip of black cloth.  She spins around, smacks him with the panel, then sprays him full-force in the face with oven cleaner.  Man screams, rubs at his eyes; she hits him on the temple with the spray can with all her strength.  He moans, starts to sink down; she kicks his feet out from under him, he drops to the floor.  She kicks him in the side, then turns to the counter and swiftly grabs a long carving knife; jumps down, wraps one arm tightly around his neck, holds the knife up against his nose.  Takes a closer look at him, realizes who it is.*  B-by th’ bloody powers … it were you, weren’t it?  Ye hurt me Mr. Blake …

Mr. Brown *holds hands up*  D-d-don’t …

Manouche *thinks of Blake, sees red; presses the blade closer, speaks in a low growl barely above a whisper*  Ye messed with me Mr. Blake, y’ bastard … I oughta cut ye t’ ribbons …

Mr. Black *standing in kitchen doorway, pointing gun at her*  That’s quite enough of that, Miss Roussel.

Manouche *freezes, looks up at him.  Hand shakes slightly; Mr. Brown trembles as he feels the blade move against his face* 

Mr. Black *voice deadly*  Drop the knife NOW.

Manouche *stares at him, reluctantly lets knife fall, loosens her grip around Mr. Brown’s neck; he scrambles to his feet, grabs her roughly by the collar, pulls her up*

Mr. Black *approaches them, gun on Manouche*  I have to hand it to you.  You eluded the Order for a long time, very impressive.  But it’s over.  It’s time for you to fulfill your obligation.  *looks past her*  Mr. Brown …

Mr. Brown *takes rope from a pocket, ties her hands behind her back.  Finds strip of cloth he’d had earlier, secures it around her eyes*

Manouche:  Wh-where are ye takin’ me?

Mr. Black:  Just a sort of holding station, for now.  We’ll collect your friend Malachi, then we can be on our way.  And not a moment too soon.  I don't care if we never see this miserable little town again.

Manouche *laughs*  Good luck with that’un, mate.  Ye’ll never catch Malachi.

Mr. Black *thinks of his conversation with Abberline, smiles*  You let us worry about that.  The way I see it, we have a little … leverage now.  He may turn surprisingly cooperative once he hears we have you.  *shrugs*  Even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t matter.  We’ll have him, one way or another.  Let’s go, Miss Roussel, they’re waiting for you.

Manouche:  Mrs. Blake … that’s Mrs. William Blake … *words are cut off as Mr. Brown ties gag around her mouth; pulls a gun from his coat, tightens his grip on her arm.  They lead her through house to front door; Mr. Black glances around outside to make sure no one’s watching.  They quickly usher her to the car, shove her into the back seat.  Mr. Brown gets in next to her, pushes her down to the floor so no one will see her.  Mr. Black gets in driver’s seat, starts car, pulls away from house, drives to undisclosed location*

At Chateau Blanchefort:

Corso *leaves his comfortable study and goes to see Commander Portsmith to the great hall with baroque mirrors and arched windows*  She's leaving for Spain now.

Portsmith *sitting on a dark gold coloured leather sofa leafing some papers, looks up*  Good, she'll be out of the way for a while.  Did you give her the names?

Corso:  Yes, she's got them.  And letters of recommendation from me.

Portsmith *laughs*  That will sure scare them, Dean.  Very refined way to put them against the wall.  They won't hide from the Colonel because they don't know her ... I hope she took her little angel-face bully with her to scare them even more.*

Corso:  Hanson?  Yes, I believe so.  But I don't want any harm to her.

Portsmith:  Of course not, are you getting soft or what, Dean?  I am sure that she will be useful even later on.  We'll just teach those miserable crooks a lesson.  But I don't have time for that now.  The guys in black have been on the prowl lately, I got some very interesting reports … *with a malicious smile*  They think they are professionals and yet they behave like some amateurs.

Corso:  Please, Commander, that's something I don't want to be involved in.  And you should give up the thought on joining the Order.

Portsmith:  I don't need you now, Dean, you can go and bury yourself in your boring dusty books for a while.  And I don't need the Order either, there's something else I am more interested in.  *waves him off, and when he's gone takes the small memory chip and inserts in the reader in her computer, looks once more at the video clip*  They never even suspected that their lousy headquarters would be bugged ...  Looks at the scene once more, listens to the conversation, smiling contentedly*  How very stupid indeed.  Time for some action soon, I believe.

At Chez Roux:

Blake:  Well … *pauses, at a loss, confused by Abberline’s erratic behavior; then remembers what he saw – Victoria’s picture, the document – and feels sympathetic*  Okay, sure … I can look at rings on my own later, if you decide you’d rather not come along.  It’s okay, Inspector, do whatever you need to do.  *puts arm around his shoulders, opens door to Chez Roux, takes him up to bar*  Have anything you want, first round’s on me.  *pulls out cigarettes, lights one, offers one to Abberline, looks at him anxiously*  What did you mean, when you said you’re not through with it?  What more could you possibly do at this point, with something that happened so long ago?

Abberline *orders a double whisky, to the barkeep*  No, make it two ... *to Blake*  Those men ... they were never caught, they killed an innocent, defenseless woman, and the ruined my life for good, and all these years, they have been walking free.  I want them dead.  It's revenge that has kept me going on.  *empties fast the first glass, grabs the second one immediately, stares in front of him with a blank expression*  How did we end up with this?  From diamonds to death.  Blake, I got to say that I do like Manouche very much ...

Blake *takes drink of whisky*  But … how will you find the killers, after all these years?  *pauses, finishes whisky, orders another*  I reckon I understand how you feel.  If I were in your place an’ lost Manouche … I couldn't rest till I got my revenge, either, god help me.  *shakes head*  I don’t know why I never really thought about it like that before.  Maybe it was finally seeing a picture of your wife … if anyone did that to Manouche, I’d ….. *voice trails off, he stares ahead, unseeing, face dark.  Barkeep sets glass in front of him; he takes a drink, turns to Abberline*  Don’t worry about the turn the day took, Inspector.  I understand why this is all so hard for you, an’ if it helps you to talk about it to either Manouche or me, we're here to listen.  Sharin’ a few drinks with a friend is a sight better than chasin’ the dragon alone.  *raises glass*  I hope you do find those bastards, an’ if there’s anything we can do to help you find them, say the word.  *smiles slightly, a little puzzled at Abberline’s last comment*  Manouche likes you, too.  An’ you don’t need to help pick out her wedding ring to prove your friendship to her.  She knows.  *drains glass*

Abberline *coughs, almost chokes on his drink listening to Blake, crushes his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray*  I don't know, I can't just give up, and I am sure that neither would you ...  It would be easier to live without anyone to care for, wouldn't it?  I'm sorry .. I got to get out of here ... I'm not feeling well, I can't drink more.  *shoves his glass away*  Yes she knows, she always knows so much.  I just have to face it.  *looks straight at Blake for the first time*  There's a good shop nearby.  Diamonds, I think diamonds is what she would like ...

Blake *starts to protest, then decides it might be best to let Abberline do whatever he wants to do, in his agitated state*  Well, sure, Inspector, if you’re sure that’s what you want.  Let’s check out this shop you know.  *smiles*  I want to buy her the prettiest diamond she’s ever seen.  Probably not the biggest.  *laughs*  That’s the trouble with buying jewelry for a pirate, Inspector … with all the treasure a pirate sees in a lifetime, I’m afraid anything I can afford on a poet’s income will pale in comparison.  Ah well, I’ll do the best I can.  Lucky for me, she's sentimental as hell.  *finishes drink, puts money on the bar, motions to him*  C’mon, let’s go.

Abberline *checks his watch, but the time seems to drag painfully slowly on; relieved of the change of subject, starts to talk*  The best diamonds are not the biggest.  The quality is what counts, the way it reflects light.  The cutting of a diamond is more important than size.  *stops at the shop window*  It's not worth while to look at what they have put on display, that's the stuff they want to get rid of.  *opens the door to the shop*  It's got to be something stylish ...  But it's up to you.

At the Jewelers:

Blake *enters store with Abberline*  Ah, I am glad you suggested this!  I wouldn’t know where to begin, I don’t know anything about diamonds.  Yes, something stylish … something just right for her.  I know she prefers silver over gold, an’ so do I …  *points at an impossibly huge, expensive ring*  Look at that … wouldn’t that get a “by th’ powers, Mr. William Blake!” out of her.  *laughs, wanders around, browsing.  After about ten minutes, signals Abberline*  I’ve narrowed it down to a few, Inspector, all of which are in my range.  Well, one’s a little dear, but I could probably get an advance for some work at the recording studio.  What do you think of these, aren’t they beautiful?  The one with three diamonds, for past, present and future … *grins, points at another one*  And look at this one, perfect for a pirate wedding:  diamonds an' a black pearl!

Abberline *glances at the rings, not at all interested, tries to hide it from Blake, looks at his gold watch once again*  SIlver?  Are you sure about that?  A black pearl might suit a pirate but I have heard they bring bad luck.  *Frowns, looks at his watch, forces himself to concentrate on the rings*  What kind of wedding is it going to be?  If you ask me, I would choose the second one.  *Inspects closer the ring*  Look at it from different angles, this cut is excellent work.

Blake *holds up the ring at various angles, holds in under lights, admiring it*  I think I agree with you.  It’s a beauty, and of the ones I’ve seen, I think the style would suit her best.  Yeah … yeah, this is the one, she’ll love it.  *sighs*  It figures, it’s the most expensive of the bunch.  But I can do it … it’ll be tight, but I want to do it.  *pauses*  The wedding?  Oh … well, not overly formal.  Manouche is a little intimidated by the Wonkas, they’d like to make it a coronation!  *grins*  But … well, she’ll have a nice dress, we’d both like to have it outside if weather permits, maybe on the property of the studio somewhere, it’s so beautiful there by the river, an’ we both love the river.  She’ll have Madame standing up with her, and Willy’s going to give her away.  We want Marijke to cater it, and afterward a big party, with music from Roux, Graham, an’ anyone else who wants to jump in and play.  *pauses for a few minutes as he continues to admire the ring, then looks at Abberline*  Inspector, once Willy does what he needs to do in the ceremony to give Manouche away, he’ll come stand by me.  You’ve been a big help with this today, it probably seems like nothing to you, but it means a lot to me.  So … I … I’d like to invite you to stand up with Willy an’ me, if you would.  Think it over.  But be warned, if you do, it'll seal your fate with Commander Portsmith.  I don’t think she would ever consider bringing you back to the force after seeing you stand up in a pirate wedding ceremony.  *laughs*

Abberline *stares at Blake shocked and grows frightfully pale*  Oh no, no, I can't!  I can't explain it to you, but I can't do it ...  I don't think I can attend the wedding ... Not because of Portsmith ... but ... I am not worth it ...  Excuse me.  *walks out and leans against the wall.*

Blake *watches him go, eyes wide.  Turns to salesman behind the counter, hands back the ring, asks that they hold it for him, gives him necessary information and a deposit.  Thanks him, then hurries out the door to where Abberline is standing*  Inspector, I apologize, that was thoughtless of me.  Asking you to be a part of a wedding, knowing how you're feeling right now about ... *shakes head*  I thought you might enjoy it ... but ... no worries, forget I said anything.  *pauses, looks at him*  Maybe you should go home, get some rest, I don't think you're completely recovered from your illness.

Abberline *trying to compose himself, faintly*  So did you buy the ring?  *gives up trying to keep up the casual conversation with Blake*  I am sorry for this, Blake, I really need to rest ... Give my ... my regards to … to  Manouche ...  I will see you later ...

Blake:  Yeah, I had 'em hold it for me.  I may look a little more, but I think it's the one.  Sure appreciate your help ... *looks at him, worried*  Get some rest, Inspector, I'll tell Manouche you said hello.  *shakes his head, turns toward home*

On The Lancet:

Raven *after about fifteen minutes, feeling a little foolish for thinking there would be some magic in the stuff Malachi gave him, snorts*  Rubbish.  *stands up, starts to put out lantern and leave room, when something hits him.  He brings his hands up to his head at a sudden dizziness and blinding flash, followed by a strange jumble of images and voices, at varying levels of familiarity and memory – including his own likeness:*

Wh-What would normal parents do with me?  They’d be scared o’ me.  C-can’t I stay with you, Kat?  Mother?

You don't know what yer sayin' luv ... It's not possible.  I know nothin' of children.  I wouldna e'en know where te begin.  There's things 'bout me ye be not knowin'.  Please stop yer cryin' luv.  It'll come right. I promise.

N-no worries, lil’ mate, someone’ll come fer us, I know it.  Nothin’ t’ be afraid of …

*Beautiful Indian woman lying on ground in a pool of blood, shadowy figure standing over her, laughing …*

I’ve always done this, I hear an’ know things.

An’ y’share ‘em in visions …

Only been able t’ do that with two people, True Dreamer an’ you.

Manouche, what's a soul box?  I'm seeing something, it's confusing.  Somethin' about a soul box ... an' there's someone with a really big hat ... but it's not the biggest hat ...

Ahh, Portsmith!  Why th' bloody stars ye thinkin' about her?

Raven *sinks down to floor, rubbing his head.  Then all visions and sounds clear away, and a new one fills his head … *  

*Two men he doesn’t recognize lead a third man into a large warehouse on the outskirts of the industrial side of town.  Enter large room with high ceiling, small grimy windows located near the ceiling;  many cartons and crates are stacked against the walls.  Furniture consists of an old wooden desk with receipts, invoices and packing slips; a slightly battered old refrigerator that hums loudly; some filing cabinets; and a large folding table, somewhere between the size of a card table and an office conference table. The table holds a couple of loose-leaf binders, a dictionary, a pad of paper, a few pens, and some envelopes.  Several office chairs are set around the table*

First man *switches on light*  Make yourself comfortable, Inspector.  *sits down at head of table, nods to second man, who goes to refrigerator, takes out pitcher of water; opens cabinet next to fridge and grabs bottle and three glasses, brings everything over to table.  The bottle is absinthe, which he places close to the one called Inspector.*  You see, we anticipated your answer.  We wanted to provide refreshment that we knew would ease your nerves a bit.  I know this was a rather difficult decision for you.  *shakes head*  I don’t completely understand why, but that’s neither here nor there.  *Second man pours First man a glass of water, he drinks.  Glances at Second man, who’s looking at him questioningly; sighs*  Yes, Mr. Brown, go ahead.  *Mr. Brown grins, pours some absinthe for himself.*

Inspector *takes the glass and pours himself absinthe*  This is not going to be easy for me.  *drinks the absinth and immediately fills the glass again*  But I agree, it's useless to try to explain such things to people like you.  I hope this is the last time I will hear about the Order.  Can we get to business?

First man:  Of course.  I can assure you, Inspector, we’re as ready to wash our hands of this town as you are to hear of us ever again.  Now … we know you prefer to keep your name out of this little transaction, so here’s what you’re going to do.  We want the Gypsy alone at her house, so we want you to distract Blake.  Before we leave here tonight, you’re going to write a brief note, one that we will leave at their house so they’ll find it in the morning.  The note will be addressed for Blake only, a request from you that he meet you without her.  Mr. Brown had an interesting idea …

Mr. Brown *indignant*  No need to sound so surprised!  It happens, you know.

First man:  True enough.  *looks at the Inspector*  In our investigations, we learned that Blake and the Gypsy are getting married sometime soon.  Mr. Brown thought it might be a good idea for you to invite Blake out to look at a wedding ring for her.  Make something up -- you’ve spent some time alone with her recently.  Tell him she had mentioned it to you in passing, and that you remembered the name of the store where it’s being sold, and you want to show it to him so he can consider surprising her with it.  Then just take him to one of the local jewelers and pick one out.  I must concur with Mr. Brown, the idea of bringing Blake out on a happy errand rather than a dire mission to speak of something clandestine sounds like the better way to go, don’t you agree?  It would encourage them both to let their guards down somewhat, making our work easier.  All you have to do is keep Blake occupied for awhile.  Then when he gets home and finds her missing, he’ll have no idea you were involved at all.  Just a little bit of acting on your part, Inspector, then you’re home free.  *pauses, pours more water*  Now, as for Malachi … once you and Blake part company, you will go straight to Malachi’s residence.  We know he’ll talk to you, he won’t suspect you of anything.  You will tell him that the Gypsy is in trouble, and that he must come with you to help.  He cares about her, it should be easy enough to convince him to come with you.  You’ll bring him out, around the corner into that walkway along the south end of his building … and we’ll have reinforcements waiting there to take him.  Yes, Inspector, I felt so confident of your decision that I went ahead and put in a call for assist.  They’re on their way, they’ll be here very soon.  We’re all of us anxious to wrap up this business of these two runaways, they’ve been eluding us for many years.  And Mr. Brown and I are most anxious to ask the Gypsy a few questions about the box … the box that Commander Portsmith was fool enough to let slip through her fingers.  *finishes water, sets glass down on table*  And that’s about it, Inspector.  Once we have them both secured, we’ll take you immediately to deal with those men any way you see fit.  However, be warned ... if you try to cross us on this, we have several backup plans that we feel certain will make you quickly regret such a foolish move.  For starters, we’ll release your wife’s murderers, and you’ll never again have the opportunity to confront them.  Of course, that will probably be the least of your concerns once we’re through with you and anyone you care about.  *reaches over, grabs pad of paper, pen and envelope, slides them in front of the Inspector*  Shall we get started?

Inspector *lights a cigarette, listens without a word*  How interesting, I would never had thought any of you turning romantic.  *takes paper and pen*  I will write the note and do what you want, but how can I be sure that you keep your word?  *drinks from his glass, and after a short hesitation writes a short note*  What will happen to her?

*Mr. Brown snickers; he’s quickly silenced as First man glares at him severely*

First man:  To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what will happen to her, that’s not up to me.  You’re probably better off not knowing.  *reaches over, takes the note, reads it; nods, satisfied.  Places it in envelope, seals it, passes it to the Inspector, who stares at him for a moment, then addresses the sealed envelope, hands it back to First man*  As for keeping our word to you … as I mentioned before, those men are obstacles to Mr. Brown and myself.  We’re more than happy to have them placed in your custody, as it were.  *grins, reaches in coat pocket, removes an envelope*  I have something here that may help you believe us more.  It’s a photocopy of the paperwork that was processed, demanding your wife’s, shall we say, removal.  It contains the names of the men responsible.  I’ve blocked those names so you can’t read them, because our deal is that you’ll have that information once you’ve completed our little assignment satisfactorily.  However, the paperwork in and of itself should serve as a letter of intent, of sorts.  We hope it helps prove to you that we do know what happened to your wife, who’s responsible, and that we will take you right to them.  I ask that you wait till we've dropped you back at your home before you read it.  *slides envelope across table to the Inspector*  I warn you, Inspector, it’s not pleasant reading.  Granted, there are no surprises there.  It’s nothing you don’t already know.  But it’s quite another thing to see it written in black and white.  *shrugs*  Perhaps … if you start to falter, worrying about betraying your friends … this document will give you the fortitude to remain strong in your resolve.  Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good, and for certain conclusions to be reached.  *looks at the Inspector with some sympathy*

*Vision fades to black, room goes quiet except for the sound of the sea outside the porthole window … and Raven realizes he’s crying.  He sees another face come into view, sees that she’s blindfolded; hears a voice, and full recognition returns to him in a flash*

Mrs. Blake … that’s Mrs. William Blake … *he sees Mr. Brown tie a gag around her mouth, pull a gun from his coat, tighten his grip on her arm; then everything fades away.  He opens his eyes and finds himself on the floor of the small room on The Lancet.*

Raven *sobs*  Oh, MANOUCHE …

On the other side of Deppville: