Free India Black and the Shadows of Anarchy (A Madam of Espionage Mystery) by Carol K. Carr Page A

a reputation for cultivating a certain class of customer: politicians on the rise, sons of peers who would someday succeed their fathers and grace Lotus House with their titles, military officers who garnered attention in dispatches from the far-flung posts of Britain’s empire. Having worked hard to establish this clientele, I’d appear dashed odd if I began to advocate killing the very same fellows I’d been at pains to lure to my brothel. My whores would be confused, and my competitors would swarm like a school of piranhas, picking off the choicest customers with tales of my radical views.
    Between my inability to penetrate Martine’s air of polite reserve and my reluctance to become a frothing revolutionary overnight, I was making little headway with my assignment. Oh, I certainly tried, dropping barbed comments into conversations with Martine about the shameful exploitation of us poor whores by the propertied few and indicating my general desire to see the class system abolished in Britain, but she just looked at me solemnly with those soft brown eyes and nodded thoughtfully, never offering so much as a hint of her own political views. I questioned her about her background and made noises about the bravery of the Communards in establishing their own government in Paris and wasn’t it a damned shame they had been turfed out and were now being hunted down all over Europe? This at least generated a spark in her eyes, but she still didn’t rise to the bait. Without some cooperation on her part, I was beginning to feel a bit desperate. I even worried that I was laying it on a bit thick, and I needed to scale back my attempts to portray myself as a friend of the working class or I was bound to rouse her suspicions.
    You’d think Superintendent Stoke would understand that establishing relations with Martine without ruining my business would take a bit of time and ingenuity, but barely a week had passed since Martine had arrived when the bloody man started sending me messages, demanding to know my progress at prying information from the girl about the Dark Legion. I dithered and stalled and sent brief notes that indicated I was proceeding slowly and would have information for him soon, but after three weeks of that the officious clot sent a rather blistering missive indicating that he needed leads and he needed them now.
    I gave the matter some thought, and then summoned Vincent.
    * * *
     
    Two days later I met Martine in the hall. I nodded cordially to her and started past her, then checked my progress abruptly as though I’d just experienced a revelation.
    “I say, Martine. Have you a minute to spare?”
    “Of course,” she said demurely.
    “Come down to the study with me.”
    She followed me obediently and when we arrived, I shut the door and locked it behind her. She looked startled for a moment, but I gave her a reassuring smile and went to my desk. I made a great show of unlocking the top drawer and fishing out a few sheets of foolscap and casting dubious glances at her all the while, as though I was debating whether to show them to her or put them back in the drawer for safekeeping. She watched me silently, though I thought I detected curiosity in her gaze.
    I shuffled the papers and pursed my lips, giving a great impression of someone having a dreadful time making a decision. Then I took a deep breath and expelled it loudly, looking directly at Martine.
    “Can I trust you, Martine?”
    “Certainly, mademoiselle. You have treated me very well.”
    “Excellent. Your demeanor and behavior have impressed me since the day I hired you. Consequently, I have decided to ask your assistance in dealing with a small matter.”
    “But of course. I shall do anything for you.”
    I hesitated momentarily (I might consider a second career on the stage) and then reluctantly handed over the papers to the girl.
    “What is this?” she asked.
    “These documents came into my possession a few days ago.”
    “But