In spite of it being frowned upon for a lady to travel unnacompanied by a suitable man, Adeline remained unruffled as she was driven by her coachman through the worn and hectic streets of London heading to Martin Lane, where Adeline would, for the first time, meet the detective, Mr. Lorem Grae in person. The air was hazy, wet and choking as always, the roads and shops adjacent a dizzying cacophony of chatter and movement. The carriage wheels bumped and cracked against the dirty, worn cobblestone roads as the horses leading it pushed their way through frenetic, unregulated traffic.

Adeline was on her way to a far less reputable area in London, not terribly distant from the most disreputable slums of Whitechapel and Spitalfields.

There was an unmistakable shift in the appearance, sound and smell of London as she travelled closer to her destination. The collective and pervasive filth of humans, animals and factories made it impossible to draw in a clean, unpolluted breath of air. It was a perpetual bottleneck of coaches and livery working, boisterous, demanding and indomitable.

Adeline would be dishonest were she to tout a lack of anxiety over travelling into such an unsavory area of the city alone to meet a man of which she knew almost nothing. Even so, she was steadfast in her resolve to see that justice be served to whomever so heartlessly killed Thomas, and she would not allow fear to get in her way.

Given the poor road conditions and erratic traffic, it was an uncomfortable forty minute carriage ride to Martin Lane. The Olde Wine Shades was a well known tavern just south of Cannon Street, one of London's busiest thoroughfares, and the location to which Adeline was escorted by her coachman.

Entering into the old pub, Adeline was bombarded by the sight, sound and smell of a dozen patrons boisterously talking out of turn while partaking in an afternoon drink. The odor of the space itself was so strongly imbued with spirits and beer, the walls seemed almost to perspire noxious liquids. The ceiling was low and built from coppery brick, and the doorways arched, creating a space that felt small and dark despite the many paned windows along the entrance wall.

Adeline laced her fingers together in front of herself, feeling suddenly a tension she had not anticipated. Her heart quickened beneath her breast and she experienced a trembling in her knees. It seemed the stress of the situation had, quite inconveniently, begun to shake her resolve.

Willing herself forward, Adeline stepped deeper into the establishment, scanning the space thoughtfully, looking for a man who might be sitting alone.

Anxiety mounting, she felt a chill tickle its way up her spine causing the downy hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end, surely a result of her uneasiness toward these foreign surroundings. She had lived a blessed life, after all, having never been exposed to the loud, unkempt people of the lower working class.

'Mrs. Moore,' a deep, gruff voice spoke, drawing Adeline's attention to the left of where she stood.

Turning, Adeline was met with the intense gaze of a tall, broad shouldered man. Blue- gray eyes, short ashen hair and an unkempt beard, he wore a dusty, black frock coat and carried a top hat in his hand.

'You must be Mr. Grae,' she said, trying as she might to hide the inexplicable sense of intimidation she felt in the presence of this stranger.

The man simply nodded then waved his hand as he turned, pacing with a wide gate toward one of the many small, wooden tables lined up under the dirty paned windows.

To Adeline's surprise, Mr. Grae pulled out one of the chairs and stood behind it, waiting to assist her into her seat as a gentleman surely would. She acquiesced, allowing him to push the chair in toward the table while she sat.

Drawing in a deep, nervous breath, she glanced out the window while the detective rounded the table and seated himself directly across from her, resting his elbows on the table's surface. It was uncomfortably quiet between them for a moment before Mr. Grae spoke.

'So, wha' can I do for you, Mrs. Moore?' He asked plainly, his dialect an interesting combination of recieved pronounciation and the more common cockney intonation.

Adeline's fingers fidgeted in her lap where no one could see, 'Well, Mr. Grae, in short, what I seek is the identity of the man who lured my husband to his death'

The detective's furrowed stare was of such intensity that Adeline struggled not to shy away from his eyes.

'Wha' makes you think he was lured?'

To this, Adeline reached into the small pocket hidden in the folds of her foundation skirt and retrieved from it a folded piece of paper, 'I found this in Thomas's study the day before last,' she explained as she handed the note to Mr. Grae.

Inside, the letter read:

If you wish to keep your secrets you will meet me at The Hobbyist. 27th April, 7 PM.

Blackthorn

Mr. Grae's brow furrowed further still as he scrutinized the words in the letter, 'ave you taken this to the authorities?'

'I'm afraid the police seem quite unequal to the demand. What do you make of it?'

'Your husband, bit of a sordid mate, was he?'

Adeline shook her head, 'Thomas was a simple and honest man, Mr. Grae, and he kept no secrets'

'If that were the case, Mrs. Moore, would he 'ave gone to meet with who ever wrote this letter? This Blackthorn character?'

'But you see, Mr. Grae, there is no establishment by the name of The Hobbyist on Lansdowne Road, where Thomas was found'

The detective sat back in his chair, 'Than how can you be so sure Mr. Moore was plotted against? This letter could be completely unrela'ed to the murder'

'Thomas was killed the night of the 27th, so it must be connected. I see no other logical explanation'

'Oye!' A voice shouted suddenly, drawing both Adeline and Mr. Grae's attention toward the opposite end of the bar where they turned to see a stumbling, disheveled man sauntering toward where they sat.

'You're a righ' propa lady, ain't ya?' He slurred and pointed with dirty hands as he neared the table.

Adeline tensed up, feeling alarmed.

'I've always wan'ed to 'ave a go wif a propa pigsy. You go' one of 'em fancy twats, decora'ed like a crown jewel?' The rough looking man laughed lazily as he groped his groin and sidestepped to correct his balance.

The following events happened so quickly that one could argue they had not happened at all.

Adeline was shocked to see Mr. Grae spring up from his chair, taking only two powerful strides toward the crude man where he immediately and with unrivaled force swung a tight fist outward, bashing it into the left temple of the drunken degenerate.

Adeline gasped and stood from her seat, covering her mouth with her hand. She watched while detective Grae aggressively snatched the man into his grip and forcefully dragged him through the bar to the exit.

Mr. Grae freed one hand so that he could wrench the door open, then powerfully shoved the wretched man out of the tavern into the street where he stumbled and fell to the ground.

The sense of intimidation Adeline initially felt about her hired detective was instantly intensified, and as he stomped back toward her, breathing heavily, she could not help but to take a step backward, avoiding his proximity.

'My apologies, Mrs. Moore. This is no place for a lady. Le' me see you back to your carriage'

Adeline nervously avoided Mr. Grae's eyes, 'I suppose you would have quite a unique insight on the matter of such things'