The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

" Melmoth the Wanderer?" asked John Henry, a little taken aback that Ragoczy should know the work.

Ragoczy did not answer. He glanced at the ledger one last time. "Tomorrow a clerk from my solicitor will visit Mr Tubbs. He will say that I have asked to have my business here reviewed. Oh, never fear. I will demand the same of the other merchants with whom I have done business. I will not single this firm out for the solicitors' attention." He took a rapid turn around the room; the lamplight danced and sparkled in the jewels on his Order. "I will do everything I can to make it appear that this is not an unusual request. Since I am a foreigner, I am certain that Mr Tubbs will be willing to think the worst of me for that."

John Henry coloured. "He is one of those who thinks Jesus Christ spoke in English."

"He has that look to him," Ragoczy agreed. He halted in front of John Henry and held out his hand. "It's settled then."

"Yes, all right," said John Henry as his large hand closed over Ragoczy's small one. "It's settled."

In the private parlour of the pub, the company of actors were still exhilarated by the great success they had had with their new production of Romeo and Juliet . At the head of the long table, the young man who had paid for the Royal Soho Theatre production and for the privilege of playing Romeo, was still holding court, flushed with a heady combination of port and applause.

"You were quite wonderful, Henry," said the woman beside him, a cozy matron who had played Lady Capulet. "You'll go far, you mark my words."

Henry was willing to be convinced. "Ah, Meg, Meg. It's such a good play, that's what makes the difference." He frowned a little, wishing his family had been willing to come, but they were such strict Christians that they rarely ventured out to public entertainments of any sort.

The director, who had also played Mercutio, was more than half drunk, and he swung around to face Henry, lifting his glass.

"So you think you'll take the London stage by storm, do you?"

"One day I hope to," said Henry, already hungry for the time it would happen.

"That's what they all do," the director muttered, sounding bitter.

"You leave off baiting him," Meg ordered the director. "Just because he's a better player than you"

"Better player!" scoffed the director, taking another long draught of dark ale. "Why, he's as green as as" He lost the direction of his thought.

"Yes, he's green," said Meg with some heat. "But he's got it in him. You can tell by what he does. He's got the touch." She beamed at Henry, her smile not as motherly as it had been. "You'll all see. I know Henry's going to go far."

Henry basked in her approval and watched as the rest of the company caroused themselves into fatigue, and then began to drift off into the night. Henry was one of the last to leave, pausing to tip the landlord for allowing them to hire the private parlour for the later hours.

As he stepped into the street, he paused, realizing it was very late; the windows were dark in the buildings that faced the road. No traffic moved over the cobbles. Only the skitter of rats attracted his attention as he pulled his coat about him and started towards his home.

Then he heard a soft, crisp footfall, and with a cry of alarm he turned, expecting to see one of the desperate street thieves who preyed upon the unwary. He brought up his arm. "I have a pistol," he warned.

The answer out of the dense shadows was amused. "Do you really, Mr Brodribb." A moment later, Ferenc Ragoczy stepped out of the darkness. He was wearing his hooded cloak, as he had been the first time John Henry had seen him. As he walked up to the young actor, he said, "Congratulations. That was a very impressive debut."

"You saw it?" asked John Henry.

"Yes." Ragoczy smiled, the pallid light from the distant street lamp casting a sharply angled shadow over his features. "I am pleased your inheritance was so well spent."

John Henry felt suddenly very callow. "I should have thanked you, I know, but with the trial and all, I didn't think it would"

"What reason do you have to thank me? The legacy was from your uncle, wasn't it?" He started to walk towards the main road, motioning to John Henry to walk with him. "If anything I should thank you for the six thousand pounds my solicitors recovered from Mr Tubbs and Mr Lamkin."

"Everyone believed it," said John Henry, still marvelling at how easily the clerks had been convinced that so distant and unknown an uncle would leave a sizable amount to his nephew. "I never thought they would."

"People believe things they want to think happen. What clerk would not like a distant relative to make them a beneficiary of his estate? So they are willing to think it has happened to you." He went a few steps in silence. "Tell me, was there some specific reason for taking the name Irving?"