A fine day's work, especially considering I lost a bit of time this morning to housekeeping.



Tomorrow I introduce (or reintroduce, rather) Mervyn Fawkes, about whom more later. Today, I brought onstage the surviving members of the League of the Round Table, William Blake "Little Bill" Taylor, Lord Arthur Carmody, and Lady Priscilla Anna Strangways née Dumaresq.

Blank and Miss Bonaventure found themselves a short while later standing before the return address listed on the envelope for W.B. Taylor, which was revealed to be a modest residence in Paddington. Ringing the bell, they were greeted at the door by Taylor himself.

If Blank had formed an impression of the man based on hearing a few lines of correspondence read aloud, his impression had struck far of the mark. The man who stood before them, towering some inches above himself and Miss Bonaventure, looked like he’d just stepped from the pages of a penny dreadful. Broad-shouldered, with large, long-fingered hands, he had long drooping mustaches, a small pointed beard on his chin, and wore his hair brushing the color. On his feet were western-style boots, and a string-tie was knotted at his neck.

“Mr. Taylor?” Blank began.

“Look,” barked the man in the doorway in a brusque American accent, “if you’ve come on Cody’s say-so, you can go hang, and to thunder with Cody!”

Blank smiled. “You’re American.”

“Hell, no!” Taylor snapped. “I’m from Texas.”