The Music of Razors Read Online Free PDF Page B

Henry filled Dysart’s, and so it went. Even in his current state some elements of
Manners and Dress
asserted themselves. Shortly after that it seemed they were all on first-name terms.
    “I say!” Dorian suddenly exclaimed. “Did you hear about that fellow they sent to the hospital with cramp?”
    “Ha!” Jukes said. “Yes, he was—” And Finella whacked him in the ribs.
    “It was in the
Evening Transcript,
” Dorian continued.
    “Don’t read it,” Dysart said.
    “They examined the poor bugger, expecting gout or something I wager, and can you imagine what he actually had?”
    “Gastroenteritis?” offered Finella, surprisingly unfazed by Dorian’s language.
    “Ulceration?” Henry said.
    “No,” Dorian said. “Give up?”
    “I give up,” Finella said.
    “A snake. The man had a bellyful of snake.”
    Finella put her hand to her mouth.
    “Swallowed it when it was a hatchling, apparently. The man used to fit quite a bit. Turns out it had been growing in there for years.”
    “Dorian, that’s horrible,” Finella said.
    “Dorian, that’s bullshit,” Henry replied. His glass was looking empty. Had he just cussed? From the look on Finella’s face he guessed he had. “Not possible…is what I mean.”
    “I assure you,” Dorian said. “It was in the paper.”
    “How did it breathe?” Henry asked.
    “There’s a reason I don’t read the paper,” Dysart mumbled.
    “There’s air in the stomach,” Dorian countered.
    “There’s air in the
lungs,
Dorian.”
    “There is some air in the stomach, Henry,” Finella said. “You know that.”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Not much, granted, but if the serpent was ingested as a hatchling it may well have become used to living on less air—”
    “And the occasional chewed-up pie.”
    “Well, yes.”
    “Then…then how is it possible, after all those years, that this snake was never, you know…escorted out the back?”
    “Well…”
    “Is this a subject fit for the dinner table?” Dysart interjected.
    “I’m finding it enthralling,” Dorian said.
    “Well,” Finella ventured. “Unless an ingested snake was very inquisitive I would think it might never know the interior of a gentleman’s upper intestine.”
    “If you’ll excuse me a moment,” Jukes said, and made an exit.
    “More port?” Dorian offered amiably.
    Henry offered his glass. “I have to admit, Miss Riley, that I never expected a learned lady to keep company with sensationalists, smokers, and…and…”
    “Scallywags?”
    “Indeed.” He raised his glass. “Cheers.”
    Finella sampled from her glass and replaced it gently on the table. Her fingers remained upon the stem as she said, “I have every reason for spending time with these gentlemen, Mr. Lockrose. I come here simply because we are extraordinary.”
    Henry cocked an eyebrow. “Extraordinary,” he inquired. “Whatever can you mean?”
             
    “The most effective mediums tend to be women,” Dorian confided as Finella accepted Dysart’s proffered hand and stepped up onto her chair. Henry looked away. “They are also a much more instinctive breed than men. That’s a good thing in this kind of business as it annuls the doubts that keep one from the halls adjoining this world and the next.” Finella stepped from the chair to the table. Her boots sounded dully upon the scuffed wood.
    Dorian had marked the table with white chalk, inscribing a circular sigil upon the use-glossed wood. The interior of the double circle contained a sign the likes of which Henry had never seen, while the space between the inner and outer circle contained four letters, one at each compass point. Working clockwise from the north this is the word it spelled:
    VOSO
    Finella arranged her skirts, sat quickly, and laid herself down, head positioned over the
V.
Henry did not know where to look.
    “Finella has taken to this with great enthusiasm,” Dorian was saying. “I think she may one day astound us all.”
    “I think