Into the Unknown, tag: anyone

[Eleanor Pendergast]

Eleanor was going mad. Irrevocably and undeniably mad. That man- a criminal- would not leave her thoughts; his face and his strange words haunting her memory. Eleanor knew that she must find this man; her curiosity would drive her to insanity if she didn't. Eleanor knew where he was and since he wasn't likely to go anywhere anytime soon there was no difficulty there. Getting away from the omnipotent gaze of Miss Hattie would be another thing entirely.

Eleanor planned carefully and waited for her opportunity. The first order of business was to find clothes that wouldn't attract attention- a young girl in expensive and fashionable clothing walking through London with no escort would certainly raise eyebrows. One attempting to gain entrance to a notorious prison would be sure to gain unwelcome attention. Eleanor finally decided to borrow the discarded clothes that were kept in the attic, awaiting distribution to the poor.

Late one night after she was sure the entire household had retired; Eleanor quietly slipped from her bed and crept into the hall, her long white nightdress trailing behind her. The door to the attic stood just at the end of the hall. As Eleanor made her way up the staircase, one of the steps creaked loudly. She froze hoping that no one would come to investigate- she would have no explanation as to why she was in the attic, in her night dress, in the middle of the night. Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief as the house remained still “thank goodness" she whispered to herself. With great care she crept into the attic and found the trunk she was looking for. Back in her own room, Eleanor hid the clothes in the very bottom of her chifforobe, underneath a pile of folded petticoats.

The next week was excruciating; Eleanor made sure to be on very best behavior. She wanted to give Miss Hattie no inkling that she was up to something. “Well miss Eleanor, London seems to have a good effect on you" she remarked one day as she and Eleanor sat in the parlor embroidering. “In just a week you've turned into quite the lady- I'm glad to see you're shedding your country ways" Eleanor quietly fumed, but said nothing as she picked another knot out of her embroidery.

Eleanor's opportunity finally came. Miss Hattie, who had every second Monday free, decided to visit an aunt who was feeling poorly and would be gone the whole day. By happenstance many of the household staff also had this day off and would be out of the house, about their own business, " Are you very sure that you won't come with me?" Miss Hattie fretted “No I wouldn't want to intrude, I'll fine on mine own for one afternoon" "well, be sure to take one staff with you if must leave and be sure to wear a bonnet, a nice one, not that old straw thing" "

Eleanor smiled to herself as she watched Miss Hattie climb into a carriage through the drawing room window. Eleanor informed the housekeeper, that she felt indisposed and would spend the day in her room. Nodding sympathetically, the housekeeper promised she would see to it that no one disturbed Eleanor. Dressing in the raggedy clothes, Eleanor finished off the ensemble with her old gray shawl and rather worn straw bonnet. She even took a little soot from the fireplace in her room and rubbed it on her cheeks and nose. Eleanor was pleased when she looked in the mirror- she looked thoroughly common.

Sneaking out the servant’s entrance, no one noticed Eleanor as she brazenly walked down the street; she was just another kitchen girl on an errand, no one worth paying attention to. She had carefully planned her route using the map in one of her books. Eleanor should have been frightened- she was walking through dangerous London alone and was about to sneak into a prison to meet a probably violent criminal. She wasn't though; Eleanor had her first taste of freedom in a long while, the sense of being in control of her own life.


Newgate loomed before her an imposing stone structure, like a medieval castle. She had managed to get herself this far, Eleanor refused to let fear turn her back. The only thing left for Eleanor to figure out was how she was going to get in.

[Special Guest]

Terence Hargreaves stood before his closet mirror and checked his buttons, lines, and seams one last time. He produced a small comb to tidy his mustaches, the comb disappearing as quickly. It was not vanity that motivated his habits. It was control. He could not exert control if he did not present control. Of all things. Most especially, himself. It was eleven a.m. Time to walk the ward.

He did this every day, twice a day. Once before lunch and again before dinner. He had no wish to see those animals before breakfast. He enjoyed breakfast.

A knock at his door did not surprise him. That would be Officer Healy, the shift Seargent. Healy walked with Terence at eleven. Henry Abbott walked at four. But, it was not Healy. It was the Watch Commander, Officer Francis Buchanan.

"Excuse the interruption, Terri," Buchanan offered as he walked right in. Terence and Francis had fought the Chinese together and remained respectfully civil, despite the seperation of status imposed by their post war profession. Simply stated, they were friends. "But, I just heard a prisoner visitation request that I felt I should bring to your attention."

Terence nodded as he turned to face the man. He waved a free hand to the bottle of sherry that stood by and Francis nodded and poured two glasses. The invitation was more a suggestion. They always seemed to have a sherry, or two, when they were near a bottle together.

"A young woman, " Francis sipped the excellent liquer. "She's dressed down, but she's gentrified, or I'm the King of Norway.

"She wants to see Gaston Devereaux," Francis added as he sipped again, eyeing Terence speculatively. Terence offered a shrewd look.

"You wouldn't bring this to me if you did not have an agenda, Frank," the warden sipped his own sherry, nodding. "Out with it."

"I think the visitation should be granted," the Watch Commander complied. "Give them the privacy of a confessional, but listen in, of course. Maybe a chance to learn where he's got kept the rest of his takings. Why, ye'd have the gratitude of the Crown if you could crack that."

"Is she... lovely, Frank?" the Warden stepped back to the mirror to correct a pair of hairs that failed to cooperate.

"She's an apple blossom on her first day, Terri," Frank warned and Hargreaves frowned. He was a philanderer, not a plunderer. Still, pleasant company was rare in the execution of his office.

"I'll see to her personally," the warden decided, closing his closet door.

"Thought you might," Frank Buchanan finished his sherry and wiped out the glass with his handkerchief. "And Harry Watson sent a note. He'll be looking for a Favor around eleven, as well."

"Harry quit the force," Terri reminded his friend uselessly.

"But, not the life," Frank adjusted his coat and refit his gloves. "He's gone private sector. Investigations and Consultations."

"So, he's gone against us, then," Terri explained, his expression alarmed.

"Harry's a bull at his roots, Terri," Frank waved away his friends concern. "He's still on our side."

"Yes, well," the warden offered non- commitally. "Show me to our apple blossom, Watch Commander.

"You will walk the Ward for me this morning," he explained and Francis Buchanan merely nodded.

Minutes later, Warden Terence Hargreaves entered the office where the requesting visitor, Apple Blossom she was named in his mind, had been installed.

"Excuse me, Miss," he alerted her to his presence. "I am Warden Terence Hargreaves.

"Will you please tell me who you are?," he smiled warmly to ameliorate his otherwise imposing position. "And more importantly, why you would want to see Gaston Devereaux?"

[Eleanor Pendergast]

"Will you please tell me who you are?" he smiled warmly to ameliorate his otherwise imposing position. "And more importantly, why you would want to see Gaston Devereaux?" The man standing before Eleanor was immaculately dressed; the gold buttons on his jacket gleamed and his boots looked as if he had just polished them. In short he looked to be a man with complete confidence in himself.

"My name is Gracie Winthrop, sir" Eleanor said, having enough wits about not to give her real name "Well pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Winthrop" Warden Hargreaves said giving a short bow. "Where are my manners? Would you like a cup of tea? A glass of sherry perhaps?" " No thank you, sir" Eleanor replied trying to keep her voice even.” Please, Miss Winthrop indulge me, we have so little civilized company here and it's not every day that such a comely face graces our presence"

“Well I suppose I should like to take a cup of tea, only it must be hasty mind, you see I come on a matter of some urgency." Eleanor said." Yes, well, we shall see to the reason for your visit to Mr. Devereaux post haste, but in the mean while I will call Petty Officer Burroughs to fetch us some tea things." Warden Hargreaves went into the hall, coming back a few moments later and settling back into his chair.

“Now Miss Winthrop, I should like to know more about you." “Me sir? Why there’s precious little to know and I hardly see what this has to do with my visit!" Eleanor said flushing. "I must ask that you once again indulge me" he said inclining his head towards her as if to beg her forbearance "I suppose sir" Eleanor said uncertainly. “Are you a resident of London?" “No, I come from Shropshire" " Shropshire eh? Well you’re quite a long way from home aren't you?"

“I suppose that I am" " And your family? Your parents?" “I’m an orphan" Eleanor said stiffly. The warden looked uncomfortable, clearing his throat he said “very sorry for that- my deepest condolences of course" A knock on the door interrupted the uncomfortable silence. “Ah, that will Officer Burroughs now!" the warden said looking relieved.

A young man of no more than twenty walked in carrying a tray arranged a teapot, two tea cups and a few biscuits. "Put it down here, officer" “Will that be all sir?" "Yes, yes, back to your duties" When Officer Burroughs had closed the door behind him; the warden began pouring the tea. "Well now where we? Talking about your family I believe." “I was raised by my great cousin Amelia, sir" Eleanor began uncertainly” That's just the business I've come about sir- my great cousin, was Gaston Devereaux's aunt. They were really quite close but had a falling out some years ago." “Well this is extraordinary, I had no idea the old boy had family in England!" Eleanor continued her story “Cousin Amelia is very ill now though and would like to mend things before she goes on to her eternal reward."

“Owing to her frail condition, she sent me in her stead." At that moment Eleanor produced an envelope from her reticule. “She sent me with this letter to give to Mr. Gaston." “Funny- sending a little piece like you on such an undertaking" the warden said rubbing his chin. “Oh but sir! I'm very mature for my age and Cousin Amelia says I'm really very reliable- she would trust no one else but me with this task!" “Still sending such a young girl..." The warden paused. Eleanor fervently hoped that he would believe her story or else all would be lost.

“At any rate it's no business of mine... she is your guardian after all but perhaps I should give you some information on our Mr. Gaston, as you call him." “Do you know what the most dangerous kind of man is Miss Winthrop?" “I couldn't begin to imagine sir" Eleanor said sipping her tea. “A man who threatens the order of society is the most evil of men- without order, there's chaos, anarchy- a terrible ghastly mess. Order, above all, Miss Winthrop, order" he said rapping is knuckles on the desk.

“Mr. Gaston Devereaux threatens that order and therefore must be locked away- for the good of society of course." “I know nothing about such things, sir" Eleanor replied quietly. “Ah, well perhaps I'm getting ahead of my self- it's just that I would hate to see a comely, young thing like yourself be taken in by man like him." "Rising from his seat he said” deliver your letter young miss and then be off on your way home-waste no tears on one such as Gaston Devereaux" Eleanor stood and curtsied, when the warden pressed his lips to her hand.

“I shall personally see you to the prisoner in question." “Thank you warden." “And Eleanor, should you ever find yourself in London again do not hesitate to call upon me" the warden said with a smile. Eleanor saw something odd in the warden's eyes at that moment but chose to ignore it- she had been granted the visitation with Gaston Devereaux; her mission was nearing completion.

[Special Guest]

“I shall personally see you to the prisoner in question." Terence smiled almost fiendishly, his charm too clean to pull it off, though.

“Thank you warden." Miss 'Winthrop' smiled, her relief obvious. Terence smiled less severly as he stepped toward the door. He was still uncertain about his suspicions, though. She was just a girl of ten or eleven at the time. It was her grandfather's funeral. He remembered her eyes. Those eyes. The eyes he saw now.

“And Eleanor, should you ever find yourself in London again," he could not arrest the impulse. He was too certain of her true identity. Those eyes belonged to no other. "... do not hesitate to call upon me."

And she proved herself at that very moment. She had not reacted to his words at all. If Eleanor had not been her real name, she would have certainly shown a hint of petulance, at least, that he had mis named her. Or maybe corrected him. But, hearing her own name so casually spoken was in no way unnatural to her.

Yet, this was still a ruse she was perpertrating. To what end? And what possible connection could she have had with such an infamous criminal? Was any part of her story true? Was that letter, indeed, from a relative to be delivered to Devereaux' attention? Again, why Eleanor Pendergast, heir to the Pendergast fortune, with no obvious ties to crime? Thinking more on it, where had this girl-cum-woman been for the last half decade.

These questions, and more, would only be answered if he allowed the charade to continue. He was daring to call her out and lucky that she was too flushed from her own adventure to have caught it. He would proceed more carefully.

He opened the door to find Petty Officer Burroughs standing sentry. He came to attention smartly as the door opened. He risked a peek past his commanding officer to smile at the pretty young woman beyond, but sobered quickly at Terence's smirk of consternation.

"Conduct Miss Winthrop to Interview Room four in the north tower, Officer Burroughs," the warden spoke, his voice a little more stern than 'Terence's'. Then added with a whisper. "And mind your manners."

Burroughs needed no other encouragement. He nodded vigorously as the Warden went on his way, then stood at straight attention as he addressed Eleanor.

"Please, Miss Winthrop, will you follow me?" the young petty officer asked in a voice that was somewhat quivering. Burroughs could walk the ward while hardened killers called his mum horrible names without even batting an eyelash, but in the presence of a pretty young woman, he was terrified.

He conducted her first through a short series of officious halls and made no effort at conversation, though, he often turned just to smile. The reality of Eleanor's adventure became very real, though, once Burroughs stopped before a solid iron door and rapped on it with his billy club, which had depended unnoticed from his left wrist. A small aperture in the heavy door slid open, and after a long delay while brown eyes beyond looked over Burroughs briefly, and Eleanor thoroughly, three heavy bolts were shot and the door opened.

Officer Hapscomb was neither the fattest nor the ugliest man Eleanor had ever seen, but he may have been the ugliest fat man she had ever seen. Or the fattest ugly man. Either way, he was... frightening. However, he smiled away his hideousness and his cheeks flushed bashfully as he bowed at her passing.

"Room four, Alfie," Burroughs called back as he snatched the key to Interview Room four from it's place on the peg by Hapscomb's station. He used it to open the second door on the right, marked with a '4'. He opened the door and stood back to allow Eleanor passage into the room. There was a metal table with two chairs, juxtaposed. She also noted two iron rings starting from the floor at either end of the table. The room was lit by a lamp, but after Eleanor entered, Burroughs went about lighting a second.

Burroughs paused only a moment to smile again at Eleanor, before he remembered his duty.

"Just a bit while we fetch the convic...." Burroughs shook his head and smirked in self recrimination. "While we get... the... your... Devereaux."

He pulled the door closed and Eleanor heard the lock snap into place when he turned the key. One thing was all too clear to Eleanor at that moment.

If she wanted to get out on her own, she could not.

[Eleanor Pendergast]

There was no going back. In a few moments she would be face-to-face with a criminal, perhaps a dangerous one. Her heart thudded in her chest as she flopped into a chair. She would have been scolded thoroughly at the seminary for such behavior- “what an absurd thought!" she muttered to herself. The sound of footsteps and rattling chains, startled Eleanor; the heavy door swung open behind her.

“Here he is Miss!" Officer Burroughs called out cheerfully; Gaston Devereaux was burdened by heavy chains at his wrists and ankles as he shuffled forward. The officer efficiently attached the prisoners wrist irons to the rings on the floor, " I shall be right outside miss...urrr... should you need anything" he said smiling bashfully at Eleanor. Turning to the prisoner “and no trouble from you! Miss Winthrop's a lady, Savvy?"

Petty Officer Burroughs let the heavy door slam shut behind him, with the turn of a key and the click of a lock Eleanor knew she was trapped. She slowly turned and was finally face-to-face with the man who had haunted her curiosity. Now that she was sitting here, Eleanor had no idea what to say- she had planned to ask him a million questions but everyone had fled her mind. Feeling very foolish, Eleanor stared down at her soft, manicured hands.

“Hello, you need not be fearful Miss- I've done many regrettable things but none of them include harming young ladies" the prisoner said quietly. Eleanor looked up, startled “well I hadn't meant to imply... that...that... you... were perhaps ummmm..." Eleanor stumbled over her words, unsure of how to begin. Despite his sad eyes, Gaston smiled gently at her “perhaps a proper introduction is in order- I am Gaston Devereaux- adventurer, reprobate and resident of Newgate penitentiary and who I might have the delight of speaking with?"

" My name is Gracie Winthrop, sir" He knew she was lying by the unnatural way the name sounded coming out of her lips, but he chose to ignore that for the moment. "It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Winthrop" he said politely inclining his head. “As it is mine sir" " "No I'm quite sure the pleasure is all mine"

Eleanor gasped as Gaston thrust his face just inches from hers. “don’t be afeared child, we're being watched" he whispered. “Who are you really?" “Eleanor Whitley-Pendergast" He scowled suddenly " Am I to assume you are of the ancient and noble Pendergast line?" “You could correctly assume that sir, but how did you guess?" “I am well versed in the art of deception and you are truly a terrible liar" " well perhaps I am not as adroit as you sir!" Eleanor said indignantly, raising her voice. “shhhh... it’s a complement love"

“you’re quite forward sir and I hardly think it's proper" Eleanor hissed. “It’s hardly proper for a young heiress to be paying social calls on convicted criminals" he replied blithely. “You shouldn't be here- if I have guessed at your deception, the Warden surely has- and he's not a man to be trifled with" he said suddenly serious. “Oh no sir! I was very careful to make up a very agreeable story" “A school girl making up tales ... why are you here anyway?" He smirked.


“That day at the train station when I saw you... I...well..." Eleanor said struggling to find the words to explain her visit. “Yes I remember it..." he said, eyes suddenly bright.

“Perhaps you have been brought here for some purpose... yet to be revealed... though I know not what it may be." Eleanor straightened her shoulders “I want to know who you are, why you are in this place" she said waving at the dark room. “Ah there's a tale in that- one that is neither simple nor pleasant" " I don't care- I wish to hear it" Eleanor replied steadfastly.

"As you wish- I shall relate to you my story- as unpleasant a business as it is- but first I wish to hear your account" " mine sir?" Eleanor asked incredulously. " It is not often one meets an heiress in disguise sneaking into an infamous prison- it is not often one meets an heiress willing to leave the drawing room at all" " I shouldn't know where to begin"

“Perhaps with how you came to be in London." As Eleanor related her story, Gaston's look of incredulity grew “Well who could have guessed that English school girls had so much gumption lurking under those placid exteriors- really quite extraordinary."

“You promised to tell your story" Eleanor reminded him. He sighed “ I did at that, didn't I?... I do not relish the thought of telling it though- a dreadful, nasty business it was- I only hope you will not judge me too harshly"

" I suppose it really began with my grandfather- He you may judge harshly-a crueler, more callous man never walked the earth and it was to his care I was cast as my sea captain father plied his trade, as all his ancestors had before him" Gaston rubbed his eyes as if the memories pained him.

“Perhaps we should stop" Eleanor said concerned " no, no I must go on- these memories shall afflict me no longer; but I warn you Eleanor by speaking these things I give them power- they may torment you as they have me."

[Special Guest]

" I suppose it really began with my grandfather,". Devereaux rubbed his eyes as if the memories pained him. "He you may judge harshly-a crueler, more callous man never walked the earth and it was to his care I was cast as my sea captain father plied his trade, as all his ancestors had before him"

“Perhaps we should stop" Eleanor said concerned

"No, no I must go on," the young man with the old eyes reached out to touch the gloved hands of the very young woman, but they failed, the chains that bound them too short. "... these memories shall afflict me no longer; but I warn you Eleanor by speaking these things I give them power- they may torment you as they have me.

"Do you believe in... God... Ele... Miss Pendergast?" he asked, for the first time, his voice had lost some of it's haughty conviction, as if invoking the Almighty was a terrifying thing.

"Of course," she replied coolly.

"Of course," Devereaux agreed. Whether she believed or not, it was the response grown into the brain and grain of most Europeans. Of most of the world. But, it was clear that the man had asked that question as a precursor to the next. "Then, can I assume that you believe in Satan, as well.

"The Devil," he added in a whispered clarification.

"Satan exists inside each of us," Eleanor explained with the educated simplicity of a modern thinker. "Hell is not a place but a thing we carry with us."

“'That there is a Devil, is a thing doubted by none but such as are under the influences of the Devil.'” Devereaux might have sneered, but sighed in genuine regret. “'The devil has not vanished simply because people refuse to believe he exists, no more than God has..'.”

Devereaux shook his head as if to clear it, sighing again in impotent frustration.

"I often seek comfort in the words of my betters, long dead and gone, Miss Whitely- Pendergast," he confessed in a low voice. "And though I know the vain and charming Warden Hargreaves listens to all that passes between us, I shall tell you all, though by your own confession, you will hear naught but the ravings of a superstitious fool.

"I am a thief, Good Eleanor. Guilty as charged," Devereaux slumped a little, as if the weight of the truth was only felt because she sat there. "As was my father's father, after whom I am named, though that Gaston Devereaux robbed crypts and tombs and disguised his crimes behind titles like 'archaeologist' and 'historian'.

"He taught me all the tricks and crafts of his trade and I was an excellent student," the young man shrugged uselessly. "I had often boasted proudly that I had surpassed my teacher to become his master, leaving him to his graves and sepulchers to steal only the most prized rarities.

"He reviled me as a petty criminal who sought fame and fortune instead of truth," the man shook his head. "And I thought him petty and jealous for his spite. When he died, I was satisfied that I had heard the last of him.

"But, no," Devereaux almost laughed, though his eyes became glassy with a memory of fear. "His words came to me beyond his death, in the voice of an Executor, who executed his Last Will and Testament. He left to me all that was his and I found myself richly encumbered with things long buried and best left so. I restored them to the packing crates in which they were unceremoniously laid at my door and provided for their storage.

"I took as a remembrance, only one piece," Devereaux seemed to be coming to the point of his tale, his eyes showing an urgency. "It was a small thing, carved in an image of striking ugliness, some antediluvian and primordial horror. It no doubt speaks poorly of me that it should have taken a shining fancy to it, but I have since forgiven myself my fascination by blaming the thing itself.

"It possessed a power, Eleanor," his eyes begged the woman... the girl, God save him!... to believe. "It held compulsion. Suggestion.

"Corruption," Devereaux insisted with burning eyes. "Such terrible crimes might I have committed in its name had I not recognized its nature and delved into those closeted crates to find the old man's notes. I retraced my grandfather's steps backwards, from the day he died to the day he found that most awful artifact.

"And I learned that I would never be free of it's noisome influence until it was once again restored to that Pictish cairn from whence it was divulged," Devereaux squeezed his eyes tightly shut, but he obviously could still not un-see what his mind saw. "I still cannot close my eyes on it's horrid awfulness.

"I came back to the kingdoms from America to bury that thing again where it belongs," he explained, though his failure was evident in the rattling of his chains. "But, I was undone by the wise superstitions of those who recognized it and was taken into custody. I sought gladly their prisons for protection, but know now that it possesses my mind and my soul and I will never know peace again, only madness, while this thing remains... above... in the light, when it should be buried forever from sight... in the dark.

"I am to die within these walls, Eleanor Whitely- Pendergast," Gaston Devereaux begged confusion with his eyes. "Which I must accept for my honest crimes. But, to die in a delirium of madness...? For being born to a forebear whose cruel greed condemns my soul...?

"Who can save me?" he asked. The question was not rhetorical. His eyes bored into hers with a burning desire. "I must ask again...

"Why are you here?!" he asked through clenched teeth, though he asked as if he already knew the answer. "If not to save me?"

[Eleanor Pendergast]

His eyes bored into hers with freighting intensity. How could these things be true? This was 1855 after all, the age of reason and progress; man had freed himself from the shackles of fear and superstition... hadn't he?

"How is this possible? How can an artifact hold so much power?" Eleanor said her voice quavering. “I assure you- horrifying as they are- these things are true." The desperation in his eyes revealed his lips spoke truth. "This is madness; it goes against all reason." "Yes, it is madness perhaps- but this thing is not of our time, not of the age of man's fallible reason. It is of the time of magic and spirits, the age when men believed in such things- understood and feared them.

Eleanor sat silently for a moment and took a deep breath before beginning" You believe this idol to be evil; why simple destroy the wretched thing?" “I do not believe it to be evil; ancient and powerful but not evil. The seeds of evil lie in men's souls- in their insatiable greed and curiosity. As for destroying it, I believe Grandfather tried to do just that when he saw what a curse the idol had become, but it ended up destroying him instead."

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy" Eleanor whispered. “Precisely- there is a price to pay for profaning the sacred and I have paid it ten times over. The damnable thing should never have been removed from the cairn."

“You said I had been sent for a reason." “Eleanor... Eleanor... you will be the one to free me, to return the idol back to the darkness- it has no place among the living, who can neither understand nor control its power." Eleanor looked away “You are wrong sir; you must find someone else for this task." “Who? Who else could do this thing but you?" he demanded. “Look at me, I am not strong or brave; I have been groomed since I was a child to be a perfect lady- soft, weak and demure."

His voice was gentle as he reached for her hand “I see you Eleanor and I see a strong, brave, resourceful woman; you are many things but soft, weak and demure are not among them." She looked up surprised “how do you know the idol won't corrupt me as it has so many others?" “You have purity of heart- the idol will have no sway over you as long as you do not seek to use its power."

Eleanor looked at him askance “you do not seem to be a bad man, Mr. Devereaux- I do not think you belong in this place." “No, perhaps I am not a bad man but I am not an innocent man either. I must rightly do penance for my sins." He sighed “regret is a terrible burden... one I pray you may never know."

Pushing her shoulders back, Eleanor stared Gaston straight in the eyes and asked “What must I do?" “The idol must be returned to the cairn...only then will the spirits will placated and its hold on my soul broken." “This cairn... it's some sort of tomb, yes?" " Ah but not just any tomb my dear, this is the tomb of the Druid-King Gartnaith, ruler of the Picts. He commanded considerable power over both men and spirits."

“Might I ask where this tomb is to be found?" “Burghead, Moray" “but that's in Scotland!" Eleanor said betraying her surprise, Gaston nodded in affirmation. Eleanor sighed “this won't be easy; Miss Hattie won't let me walk down the street alone, much less travel to Scotland." “that isn't the only difficulty" Gaston said sheepishly " I've lost track of the idol- I heard rumors that it was taken to the British Museum and locked up... but I've heard nothing about it for some time."

“Am I to understand that you expect me to locate and steal the artifact, whose location is unknown to you, travel all the way to Scotland and return the blasted thing to some pagan tomb?" Eleanor said behind gritted teeth. “That is correct"

Eleanor sighed, “I will complete this task, though I have no idea how I may accomplish such a feat." “I have faith in your abilities Miss Pendergast," He said the words with surety, but his eyes were desperate. Eleanor was truly his last hope- without the girl he would be condemned to descend into the dark pits of madness.

“But be warned young Eleanor, there are dangers that even I have not thought to foresee. There others who also wish to posses the idol... who would stop at nothing to harness it's incredible power... trust no one."

[Special Guest]

Terence Hargreaves stood in the shadows shaking his head, listening to the conversation between the Lady and the... Liar. Not a thing that was passing between them was making any sort of sense. The warden was convinced that they had never spoken to one another before, yet he could not imagine what might have compelled the otherwise sensible and unworldly young woman to evade her caretakers to seek the company of the confessed criminal Gaston Devereaux. Inside England's most secure prison, no less!

“Eleanor... Eleanor... you will be the one to free me," he heard Devereaux entreat in a very... soothing... voice. Terence listened more closely, noting the tone and cadence of the things said, as much as the words themselves. "...to return the idol back to the darkness- it has no place among the living, who can neither understand nor control its power."

At that moment, the door to the small recess wherein Hargreaves stood opened and the Watch Commander, Francis Buchanan, entered quickly, closing the door as quickly behind him. He seemed apt to speak, but a hand held up by Terence kept him silent. Francis listened as Terence did.

“I see you Eleanor and I see a strong, brave, resourceful woman; " they heard Devereaux speak evenly to his Lady visitor and Frank showed Terence a suspicious look, the warden, his long-time friend, nodding in agreement with that suspicion. They both leaned closer to the innocuous register that was all that separated the two jailors from the two... conspirators. "...you are many things but soft, weak and demure are not among them."

To Terence, Devereaux sounded as if he were not soothing her, but... convincing... her. He silently closed the register. When it was secured, he spoke to his friend in a whisper.

"... do you recall the trial of Jeremiah Broderick...?" the warden barely breathed his words. "... wherein the defendant claimed he was 'tricked' into murder by clever oration by a never revealed instigator...?"

Frank pondered it as he stroked his well manicured Van Dyke, nodding as he recalled.

"... they called in that scottish surgeon.... baird... james baird... to prove that such a thing were possible..." Frank replied as Terence nodded. "... called it, uh,... neurohypnology. ... all he proved was that he was a bit of a quack...

"... the power of suggestion..." Frank scoffed, eyeing his old friend. "... balderdash!, Terri..."

"...perhaps.... perhaps... " Hargreaves agreed without conviction. ".... but.... listen..."

He opened the register again and they both leaned closer at the concealed aperture.

“Am I to understand that you expect me to locate and steal the artifact, whose location is unknown to you, travel all the way to Scotland and return the blasted thing to some pagan tomb?" Eleanor said behind gritted teeth.

"... she is too strong and sensible a girl, terri..." Frank whispered in his friend's ear. "... this rogue has no charms to convince her to ..."

The warden held up a hand to silence his friend, his expression imploring patience.

"That... is... correct...." Devereaux replied in that same placid cadence.

“I will complete this task," Eleanor Pendergast suddenly lost her objectionable attitude, yielding to the man who sat in chains before her. "... though I have no idea how I may accomplish such a feat."

Frank showed his friend a genuinely incredulous expression and Terence nodded with sage concern.

“I have faith in your abilities Miss Pendergast," Devereaux said the words with surety and Hargreaves clenched his teeth with a sneer. He closed the register again.

"Go to the Evidence Room and bring me this fiendish phylactery with which this criminal would manipulate a mere girl," Terence growled with indignation. "I shall make Suggestions that will curl her toes. He merely seeks in her an agent to destroy evidence."

"To what purpose?" Frank asked reasonably as he opened the door to the small chamber. "She has no ability to..."

"She is moneyed and titled and I must add gullible to that list, though I will admit to some admiration at her resistance to Devereaux' powers of persua..." Terence was becoming visibly angry, as was his way, so Frank held up a hand and interrupted.

"Devereaux is in London less than a day. How could he have, in so short a time, corrupted a young woman who has, herself, only just come to..."

"You make my argument stronger, Frank," Terence interrupted in turn. "I am convinced that he need only have spoken in order to seduce her will."

"I will fetch this thing, Terri," Frank nodded, unconvinced. "But, with Harry Watson soon to come, I suggest you wait to set any snares. Harry can spot a charlatan from a league out."

"Harry Watson is not Warden of Newgate, Watch Commander," Terence straightened his waistcoat defiantly. "This is my investigation."

"As you say, Warden," Francis Buchanan sighed heavily as he left the room, Terence followed immediately. However, as his friend continued out of the ward, Terence stopped before door number 4. He opened it and entered.

"That is all the time I will allow, Miss... Winthrop," the warden almost growled the word. "Come with me. Now."

Terence turned smartly on his heel and left the room again, turning to his left. He waited a pace just beyond the door, listening for any thing that either of the two might say in parting.

[Eleanor Pendergast]

"That is all the time I will allow, Miss... Winthrop," the warden almost growled the word. "Come with me. Now." Terence turned smartly on his heel and left the room again, turning to his left. He waited a pace just beyond the door, listening for anything that either of the two might say in parting.

Eleanor was shocked when the Warden burst into the interview room- but Gaston's somber face told her this was to be expected. “I should have expected this... from him." Gaston said stone faced. " You must be very cautious Eleanor... he knows more than you think- in fact I would not be surprised if he had not already guessed your identity is fabricated."

" I very much doubt that sir and even if he has there is no way for him to pin down my true identity... after this is my first season in London and it’s not as if I have been plastered all over the society pages yet." Eleanor said skeptically

“Perhaps... still I must impress upon you the need for discretion." “I shall fare alright... after all; I managed to get this interview in the first place." Eleanor said impatiently.

Gaston leaned forward again and licked his lips “Eleanor... that man will stop at nothing to ruin me... and is not above using you to do it." Eleanor nodded “I will be discrete." “You must be not only for my sake but for you own. If it got out that Eleanor Pendergast was about London with no chaperone and visiting criminals in Newgate you would be ruined, unmarriageable."

“I understand the risk that I am taking Mr.Devereaux. I came here of my own volition...no one made me do this... I did it because I wanted to, fully cognizant of the gamble I am taking."

“But are you truly aware of the gamble you are taking Miss Pendergast? Can you live with the social censure? With being outcast from Society? Perhaps I am making a mistake bringing a child into this wretched business!"

“Did you not say that I was the only one able to compete this task? That I was a woman full-grown?" Eleanor said slightly insulted. “Of course I meant no insult; it's only that this is a dangerous task for one so newly inaugurated into such a frightful world." Gaston said softening his tone.

“You must not worry so, I believe it is fate that has led me to this task and I will do my utmost to fulfill whatever it is I must do." Eleanor said with confidence. Eleanor and Gaston instantly fell silent as Officer Burroughs stumbled into the interview room with a reddened face. “‘Excuse me Miss but the Warden says you must come along straight away."

“I was only finishing my conversation with Mr. Devereaux, I shall be along presently." “Right Miss" Officer Burroughs mumbled uncertainly as he hurried from the room.

“Why I do believe that young pup fancies you" Gaston said with a knowing grin. It was Eleanor's turn to be red faced “I hardly think it’s appropriate... under the circumstances." “Quite right... after all he hardly matched up with your exalted station." Eleanor heard a note of condescension in Gaston's voice, but chose to ignore it.

“I must warn you of one last danger- the Warden will no doubt try to convince you that I am some sort of a charlatan... a petty criminal, using a young girl to further my own ends. You must not believe it! I may have a past that I am not proud of but I like to think that I have at least a shred of integrity left." Gaston said bitterly.

“I know your words to be true and no one shall convince me otherwise" Eleanor said passionately. Gaston seemed to have forgotten her though “Who is he to judge me after all? That philandering lecher! It is he who would use a young girl to further his own ends, principally my ruin! It’s what he's wanted most all these years."

Eleanor looked behind her quickly as she heard footsteps nearing. “What do you mean by that" “oh didn't I tell you? The Warden and I are old acquaintances... though hardly friendly ones. We have been enemies for years and he would stop at nothing to destroy me." “Why? What happened that you should such great foes?"Eleanor asked, her voice dripping with curiosity “There is no time for that particular story the telling requires much time and I am afraid we are growing short on that young Eleanor."

“Perhaps the fates shall once again allow us to meet in this life, perhaps not...either way I bid you farewell." Eleanor was rather shocked as Gaston leaned forward and pressed his lips to her hand. Her training as a lady overwhelmed her sense of shock, as she stood and performed a graceful curtsy in acknowledgement of the gesture. The strangeness of the situation was not lost on either of them... it was a scene that had been performed a thousand in the ballrooms of the upper class... only this was not a ballroom. The gesture only highlighted the grimness of their surroundings.

At that moment Officer Burroughs once again stumbled into the interview room, red faced and his brow furrowed. “The Warden says you must come along this very minute, he says I'm not to leave without you... else He'll come and fetch you himself... and you won't like it if he does!"

“I will follow you Officer" Eleanor said rising from her seat and smoothing her skirts down. Officer Burroughs looked relieved “That’s right fine Miss, right fine... the Warden will be awful pleased."

Eleanor held her head high and did not look back as she followed Officer Burroughs out of the interview room. As they walked along the passage, Officer Burroughs looked backed shyly at Eleanor. “Did you finish all your business with the prisoner...? I mean with Mr. Devereaux?" “I did sir, thank you." Eleanor replied pleasantly.

They walked along in silence for a time before stopping at a solid looking oak door. “This isn't the room I met the Warden in before" Eleanor said, surprised. “No Miss, the Warden requested you be taken straight to this room... not sure what for though." Officer Burroughs said scratching his head.

“Ah well... orders is orders." Burroughs said with a small smile. The Officer took out a great iron key, stuck it into the key hole, with a great shove with his shoulder he pushed the heavy door open.

[Special Guest]

“I should have expected this... from him." Hargreaves listened as Gaston spoke to Miss Pendergast. " You must be very cautious Eleanor... he knows more than you think- in fact I would not be surprised if he had not already guessed your identity is fabricated."

'He's playing the fool for her, now,' Terence sneered silently as he eavesdropped. 'He knows damned well I am listening to every word he says.'

The Warden showed his irritation as Burroughs came toward him intent to speak, so the officer remained silently attentive.

“Eleanor... that man will stop at nothing to ruin me... and is not above using you to do it." Hargreaves shook his head at the almost laughable charade Devereaux performed, uttering endless cliches to excite the imagination of an, until very recently, cloistered... girl. Eleanor Pendergast could not yet claim womanhood, making Devereaux' crimes all the more shameful.

“I will be discrete." Eleanor replied softly. The sudden appearance of his Watch Commander at the end of the hall and that man's alarmed expression, spurred Hargreaves away from his surveillance, pointing at Burroughs and silently commanding him to maintain his Warden's abandoned post.

"... what is it , Frank...?" Hargreaves whispered quickly.

"...it's gone, Terri. .. the... thing... the evidence..." the Watch Commander crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed at a temple. "... the phylactery... it's gone..."

"Wiggins!" Hargreaves hissed with fury, though the Watch Commander was inclined to disagree.

"... he opened the chest right in front of me, Terri..." Frank shook his head. "I've known Thurston nearly as long as I know you.... he was as shocked as me.... more!... he is an honest bull, Terri...."

At that moment, another officer entered the interview offices, obviously bothered about a thing he seemed reluctant to approach his bothered Watch Commander and bothered Warden about.

"Out with it, Nevins," Hargreaves ordered the younger officer impatiently.

"There's been two requests to interview Beaumont, Oscar," Nevins rubbed his short hair nervously. "I'da jus' turned'em out, but i's Harry Watson an' he says he got the son of Sutherland with 'im and he won't go away until he talks to you or the Watch Commander."

Hargreaves looked at his Watch Comander and frowned tightly. Frank Buchanan nodded in agreeement with his friend and Wardens unspoken decision.

"Bring him to me here, Officer Nevins," the Warden ordered and the young officer turned to see about his business. Hargreaves turned to Burroughs, who was listening like someone who was afraid of being seen. The Warden waved him back and Burroughs approached, whispering.

"'e saysyou'll accuse 'im of bein' a 'charlatan'... wuzzat? ... like a clown...?" he asked with a tilted head, but Hargreaves snarled and Burroughs went on. " says you an 'im got a feudin' past an' then ye waved me on."

Hargreaves patted the man on the arm and nodded toward the interview room. 4. "She get's no more time. Bring her to room 2."

"Right," Burroughs nodded, then disappeared into the interview room.

Hargreaves moved down the narrow hall to the farthest interview room. This one was outside what would be considered 'secured section'. Frank Buchanan followed.

"Bring Watson to me as soon as he is up," the Warden told his friend through clenched teeth. Frank nodded, looking at his boots. "If it wasn't Wiggins, Frank, it was you or me."

"It ain't Thurston, Terri," Frank said, his lips pressed in a tight line. "It's someone outside of us three. Why does it even matter right now, Terri? What's some ancient idol got to do with Devereaux' need for this girl? Just turn her out and threaten her good name. She'll behave."

"Did you see the idol, Frank?" Hargreaves asked oddly, looking at his friend, looking for intuition in the other's eyes. "Did you get a chance to look at it?"

"No. Why?" Frank asked, though he suspected the answer was irrelevant.

"I don't know, Frank, but I saw it," Hargreaves closed his eyes and shook his head. "It... it... bothered... bothered me. All night.

"Get Watson. We need more minds on this," Hargreaves opened the door to interview room 2 just beyond the first iron banded door. "And be prepared to Toss the Place tonight, Frank. We need to find that... thing."

Frank Buchanan sighed as he acknowledged the action with a nod. Then, he went to bring up the latest batch of 'visitors'. Why Watson? Why now? Hargreaves sat in one of the two chairs in the room and closed his eyes, waiting for Burroughs to bring his 'apple blossom'. He did not wait long. He brought her directly. Hargreaves stood, sighing wearily. He dismissed Burroughs with a toss of his head. The officer left, closing the door behind him. Hargreaves pulled out the other chair for Eleanor and helped her settle comfortably before returning to the other chair.

"I deliberately, from concealment behind a heat register, listened to your entire conversation with that criminal, Eleanor Pendergast," Hargreaves seemed tired. He felt tired. He had not yet had his lunch and it was telling on him. "While you might lack the worldliness to expect such a blatant abuse of your privacy, Gaston Devereaux was very much aware of that fact. Therefore, everything he said must be scrutinized with suspicion.

"Honestly, Miss Eleanor, I attended your grandfather's funeral," Hargreaves leaned his elbows on the table between them. "I knew you the moment I saw you. While I may not have left any sort of impression on a grieving girl, I could not forget the confusion of loss in those stormy gray eyes. Unique gray eyes. They are not to be forgotten. To see them again, here, today, in my gaol of all places....

"Eleanor, you have me at a loss..." Hargreaves opened his hands as if beseeching. "How can you, so lately come to England, have fallen so completely beneath the powers of compulsion of so heinous a criminal as Gaston Devereaux?

"He confesses to our feud?" Hargreaves accused, staring into the confusion of those stormy grays again. "He has never been convicted of a single wrongful death, but he has left three women dead... to suicide... in his wake.

"Do you think him romantic, Miss Pendergast?," Hargreaves shrugged. "Do you think me fiendish?

"Do you think that any of this... and any of what he asks of you... makes any sense at all?"