I stood near the train station, leaning slightly on my umbrella, exercising no small degree of patience as I waited for the next train to arrive. It had been four years since I had last seen the man the world knew as James Bond but whom I would never, in my own mind, call by any name other than Roger Norbert. I leaned into the balls of my feet, the uneveness of the cobblestones making balance difficult in the heeled boots. My stomach fluttered as the train pulled into the station. 'Nerves.' I thought with a momentary frown. I hadn't anticipated those childish things would affect me at this moment. 'If he is not on this train I should be sorely tempted to travel to Dover and drag him in myself.' An arch expression turned the corners of my lips upward as I envisioned the scene of his capture. He should have arrived on yesterday's evening train; at the latest, the morning one. I had no desire to further delay the investigation waiting for him to arrive, yet, I was unwilling to move without him. This was a case I would require his specific expertise on - at least, if my reading proved correct. Equally, if I did not send for him, and he were to discover I had withheld the information, I should never be forgiven the lapse. The train, having delivered its human cargo at the station, now moved along down the track. From the station platform a number of men and women walked down onto the lane but none were the man I was seeking. I was about to admit defeat when my heart suddenly leaped within my chest as I saw, trailing some twenty feet behind the group, the familiar form of that tall, slender man. His dark hair was obscured by his bowler hat but the shade it cast did not wholly obscure the handsome features of Lord Norbert, lately Bond. My heart ran to embrace him as a long missed friend, but my mind was less eager to forgive his dawdling - I stood rooted in place, allowing a somewhat sarcastic smile. His visage brightened as he recognized me.
"Miss Moore!" he hailed, raising a hand.
"Lord Bond, I suppose it is," I returned as he approached.
"Mr. Bond now. I have chosen surrender the title. I am too well known amongst my peers to pass for both Bond and myself without notice; nor could I manage my own affairs as well as his estate and afford to be away so often."
"Mr. Bond, then. You have been much delayed in your arrival."
"It is of no consequence, I have never known a corpse that could not wait the night." He answered with an infuriating smile. I could now vividly recall what it was that had kept me from ever attempting correspondence with this man.
"I am sorry to have had to drag you from the warm bed of whatever companion held your attention." I struck, still maintaining my calm demeanor.
"You had better be wary Miss Moore, such an accusation smacks of bitterness. One might think you envious." Inwardly, I burned with embarrassment, but my face had long been trained to not reveal such a disturbance.
"I should think there nothing enviable in such a position; nor did Dinah as I recall." I returned.
"That was merely a result of poor timing on my part."
"Yet you have moved on to the favors of others rather than renew your affections when the timing was more proper. One might accuse you of inconstancy."
"I was given to believe the timing should always be unfavorable. And what of you? I have heard your fiance has been quite busy in Moscow. Rather unfortunate business: assassination of the Tsar. Didn't quite have the effects they had hoped. I heard he managed to escape to Denmark before the police could discover his part in the thing. But where he has landed since is anyone's guess."
"You know as well as I the circumstances surrounding the dissolution of our engagement. I am sorry he chose to sow such a wind, but I do not regret the whirlwind he shall reap."
"I was surprised to hear they took you on as a code breaker. But then, I suppose you did know far too much - better to maintain the association."
"Certainly, the Secret Service could not have recognized my own talents."
"Yes, I had heard you haven't been a complete waste of an investment. Still, to allow you into the field, I image they must be quite desperate." he smiled to show he was not entirely in earnest. "Miss Moore it is good to see you are well. It seems you have grown an inch since last I saw you." he said, circling me.
"I assure you, I have not grown an inch since I was fifteen."
"You must have been quite the stork, then." he asserted.
"The current fashion in shoes has not helped in the matter."
"Still, you do appear different."
"It has been four years; I'm not an eighteen year old anymore. Nor am I sopping wet and freezing to death." I added.
"I will admit, the lack of mortal peril has altered your features a good deal." he teased. "So what is so important in the deaths of a few trollops that the Secret Service felt it imperative to send an agent to Worthing?"
"Apparently there has lately been some trouble between a religious faction calling themselves the Salvation Army and a few local business owners."
"I've heard of the Salvation Army, in passing, but how does a minor disagreement warrant our involvement?"
"If you'll follow me." I indicated forward with my umbrella. We had walked only a few blocks when we came upon a crowd of rough looking men wearing sunflowers in their lapels. A woman in a blue uniform appeared, a silver shield glinted from about her neck, flanked by two men in similarly colored militaristic uniforms. The rabble jeered at them, pelting them with trash and eggs. We watched as one of the eggs hit its mark on the woman, leaving a large blue spot where it had landed - evidently it had been hollowed and filled with paint - more splotches of paint quickly spotted their uniforms. The trio hurried down an alleyway out of view. "Because it's not a minor disagreement anymore." Roger seemed stunned by this barbarous display,
"Who are those rapscallions?" he asked as we turned away from the crowd.
"They identify themselves as The Skeleton Army and a worse set of dregs you could never find collected in one place. Four thousand of them descended on the town two months past and they have declared their sole mission to harass the Salvation Army out of existence."
"Four thousand!" Roger emphasized the last word in disbelief.
"Yes, four thousand," I reaffirmed. "You can see where the situation has grown into quite a powder keg. They fear that this most recent murder could be the spark which ignites it if we do not get ahead of it."
"It seems as though such measures are only delaying the inevitable."
"I do not deny it. We are attempting to stop a spark while the armory is on fire."
"And where are the police in all of this?" he inquired.
"They have thus far opted not to declare a side."
"Seems a convenient way to avoid dirtying their uniforms."
"In the face of four thousand I cannot wholly blame them for their reticence."
"So what is your role in this game? Surely, there must have been a reason they chose to bring you in on the investigation."
"The Rev. Underhill is well acquainted with one of the Salvation Army Lieutenants, a George Smith by name."
"I see now. They intended to use the connection to get you into close proximity of the Salvationists."
"Yes, as all of the previous victims were associated with the group, to some degree, it was felt I would be able to gain a better vantage point. Though as far as Mr. Smith is aware I am in Worthing under the order of my physician who felt the sea air would be good for my constitution."
"But surely you will not be staying in the barracks?" There was a note of concern in his voice.
"No, Smith was formerly a curate in the area before he was converted to Booth's teachings. He still maintains a small house in town - I will be residing there."
"Does he have a family then?"
"He is a widower with a daughter."
"What sort of man is this Mr. Smith? I cannot say I am comfortable with the idea of you staying alone with a single man."
"I have not yet met him - circumstances forced me to spend last night in an Inn - but from Quentin and Dinah's reports he is a rather phlegmatic man of a devout religious nature. And there is little to fear as his daughter will be present and she is some years my senior." I answered as we approached the morgue.
"I will try to take some consolation in that. But you still have not told me my part in this. Why did you feel the need to call me in from my mission in Marseilles?"
"You will see momentarily." I said, knocking on the heavy metal door. It opened revealing a bespectacled, balding man.
"Ah, Miss Moore, do come in. And this is...?"
"My associate, Mr. Bond. He requires a viewing of the body."
"Yes ma'am. Sir, if you would like to follow me." the man directed us into the stone building.
