Chapter One

Magersfontein Lugg was tired.

Of course, that was to be expected when stuck in a place like Parkhurst. People made lofty speeches about how prisons were supposed to "reform and rehabilitate" people, but Lugg had been in enough of them to know prisons for what they really were. They were places to help the "good people" feel better about themselves by keeping criminals away from them.

Conversely, prisons were places where the "bad people" have their defects of character slowly worn away through hard labor and even harder living conditions. He'd only been here a few days, but Lugg could already feel the grind settling into him again.

Lugg rubbed a large, meaty hand over his face and sighed. He had endured this sort of existence before. He could do it again for another three years.

Three years. Lugg knew that he had gotten off easy even though "easy" was never a word used to describe Parkhurst. The nob he had tried to steal from was known to have a vindictive streak. It was part of the reason why Lugg had taken a perverse pleasure in targeting him. Someone like that, someone who only bullied the most pitiful members of society because he knew he could get away with it, deserved to be taken down a peg. Preferably two.

Unfortunately, luck had not been with Lugg that night. The baron had come home early, and the accomplice Lugg had recruited had lost his nerve. On top of that two busies had decided to linger in that part of the city longer than they normally did.

However, Lugg knew that there had still been a chance to get away, but what sealed his fate was an unfortunate incident involving one of the busies. An incident that created a crisis of conscience.

That and the fact that he was not in the shape he was even five years ago.

Lugg lowered his head and heaved another sigh. He was getting old. Not so old that he needed to be looked after, but old in the standards of his profession. The only reasons he had been able to carry on as long as he had were his natural talent and the wisdom of years of experience. But even those could not completely overcome a growing midsection and joints that just weren't as flexible as they once were.

This meant that many of the jobs he used to do would soon be out of reach and he would have to find other ways to make a living. It wasn't a prospect that he relished as there simply weren't many opportunities for a middle-aged lag who was looking for a change of pace. At least, not many that had even the slightest appeal to him.

A rap on the cell door broke Lugg's reverie.

"Come on, get moving," the guard said as the door was opened. "You've got a visitor."

Lugg glared at him, making sure the guard couldn't see the astonishment and confusion in his dark eyes. A visitor? Who would visit him here? True, he was far from friendless, but his friends stayed far away from places like this. It was an unspoken understanding in the circles he traveled in.

So who would come to Parkhurst just to see him?

Lugg silently followed orders: standing still while handcuffs were placed on his wrists and trudging along to a visitor's room. Once there, he plopped down onto a chair and was greeted by a sight that started him so much, he couldn't completely hide his surprise.

Sitting across the table from him was a pale young man who looked to be in his early twenties. The man was blond with a lanky figure and large spectacles that gave him owl eyes. He was dressed in a fine, tailored suit which gave a hint of the well-to-do background he probably had.

He also had the cheeriest, most inane smile that Parkhurst would probably ever see.

"Hullo!" the young man said. "The guards told me that your name is Magersfontein Lugg."

Lugg narrowed his coal-black eyes at him. "That's right. 'Ooo are you?"

"Albert Campion," the young man said, grinning even more. "Magersfontein? Is that like that unfortunate incident during the Boer War?"

"Somethin' like that," Lugg said, scowling. He leaned back in his chair.

"You know, we have met before," Campion added. "We just didn't have a chance to exchange names."

"Yeah, I remember you," Lugg said. "You was wit' those other rozzers. But yer no rozzer. What are you, a 'tec?"

"A 'tec?" Campion repeated. "Ah you mean a detective. And rozzers are policemen, I take it?"

"Very clever, you figgered that out all on yer own," Lugg said with another scowl.

Still, he wasn't as harsh as he could have been. Campion was right about them meeting before and on that night, the young man had showed some unexpected courage which Lugg had a grudging respect for.

"I'm afraid I can't help myself," Campion replied, clearly not offended in the slightest by Lugg's belligerence. "Clever is my stock in trade. Or I should say, it will be if I decide to make a serious go of it."

"Don' let me keep you," Lugg replied. This Campion bloke made little sense to him and he still could not fathom what this was about.

"Don't worry, I made sure to clear my social calendar," Campion said. "Today was going to be a party to celebrate some new play. I don't know which play, but I'm sure it would have been filled with bright young things and some not so young things who take the stage with them wherever they go. But that's right out now. You see, there was a question I wanted to ask you."

"It's yer time," Lugg shrugged.

"Why did you decide to save that rozzer…policeman…from falling off the roof?" Campion inquired. "I'm sure you know that, if you hadn't had done that, you would have gotten away and wouldn't be here. And from what I hear, the police have never been a friend to you. So why did you do it?"

"Is that all?" Lugg said. Irritation swiftly rose up over having this odd fool bother him over a question like that.

"You was there," he continued. "You 'elped me drag 'im up. Why did you do it? 'E could 'ave dragged you orf wit' 'im."

"I suppose I hadn't really thought about that," Campion replied. "I guess I did it because one should help their local constabulary whenever possible. It's good for keeping the peace."

"There," Lugg said, gesturing with his hands. At least as much as he could with the handcuffs on. "Put me down for that reason. Is that all?"

"In theory, it might be," Campion said. He scratched his cheek and then leaned toward Lugg. "That is, it would be if I believed you."

"Believe what you like," Lugg sighed. "It makes no odds to me."

Truthfully, Lugg was surprised that Campion had noticed that he was lying. And that he cared about it. Nobs usually didn't care when people like him choose to be less than communicative. Saved them the trouble of dealing with the "low sort of people" any more than they had to.

"I had a friend like you in school who never wanted to give a straightforward answer to anything," Campion continued. "Whippet was his name. And there was never any use in asking him questions unless you were willing to put up with a lot of frustration. I wonder what Whippet is up to now. He'd be ideal for government work."

Campion chatted away and Lugg remained silent and impassive while still struggling to understand what Campion wanted from him.

A few minutes later, a guard came over and waved a hand, indicating that visiting time was over. Lugg was ordered to stand and Campion leapt to his feet at the same time.

"It was very interesting talking to you, Mr. Lugg," he said. "Until next time then."

Lugg didn't respond. Instead, he concentrated on keeping quiet while he was shoved back toward his cell. The visit had been a strange experience, but it was over now. Despite what Campion had said, Lugg was certain that this was the end of it.

That is, until next week on Thursday when Campion showed up.

"Hello again, Mr. Lugg. Remember me?"

"No," Lugg said as he sat down. He tried glaring on top of being contrary, but neither seemed to have any effect on Campion's demeanor.

"Albert Campion," Campion said once more. "But I am sure you remember that. Still, practicing introductions is always a good thing to do. You need them so dreadfully often."

"Are you always on like this?' Lugg asked, exasperated.

"Sadly, yes," Campion sighed with what actually sounded like a tinge of real regret in his tone. "I'm afraid I can't help myself. At some point, probably when I was very young, I decided that I would have to talk like this because, if I didn't, I wouldn't bother with talking at all most of the time."

"Yeah, wot a great loss that would 'ave been," Lugg mumbled.

Campion smirked at him. "Well, one of us has to be the conversationalist in this arrangement, and it doesn't seem to strike your fancy."

Lugg was tempted to ask him what exactly this "arrangement" was supposed to be, but immediately rejected the question, deciding that it would only encourage even more nonsense.

"By the way, I forget to thank you," Campion said.

Lugg blinked in surprise. "For wot?"

"For saving my life," Campion said. "You were right. That policeman did almost drag me off the roof with him. A man like that really has no business jumping around on roofs anyway." He leaned forward. "If you hadn't grabbed my braces when you did, I'm certain that I would have tumbled right off when my foot slipped. So once again, thank you."

"Yer welcome," Lugg replied, unable to stop himself. He didn't think Campion had noticed that. Or that he would acknowledge it.

"That's two lives you saved, Mr. Lugg," Campion said, settling back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. "A thief and an honorable man."

Lugg studied him closely. It didn't seem like Campion was joking with him, but it was also unlikely that anyone, especially a gentleman, would ever refer to him as honorable.

"Why was you there anyway?" Lugg asked. "You friends wit' 'is Lordship or somethin'?"

"Oh good heavens no," Campion replied. "Mind you, our paths have crossed now and again. Shared acquaintances and all. But I've always found him severely lacking in the Pleasant Company Department."

"Yeah," Lugg said. "Not at all like wot you can find 'ere at Parkhurst."

"I can reliably assure you that you are far better at the art of conversation and keeping good company than the baron ever was," Campion said. "He's only entertaining if your tastes lean toward wallowing in the pettiest aspects of human nature."

Lugg let out a snort, the closest thing to a laugh he had had in a while. "Sounds about right. Typical of you nobs."

"Nobs?" Campion echoed. "Ah…and what makes you think I'm in the same social standing as the baron?"

"Gawd come orf it," Lugg snapped. "Anyone wit' eyes in their 'ead can see it wit' yer talk and yer dress and yer fancy ways. Yer of the same sort 'is Lordship is. Prolly grew up in some country manor and went to private school. Privileged. It's written all over you."

Campion let his leg fall off to the side, and Lugg was surprised to see the smile on Campion's face falter. He didn't know why, but, for some reason, Lugg felt a twinge of guilt over it.

"Look 'ere, I ain't sayin' yer a rotten one like 'im," he added. "I saw you stick out yer neck for that rozzer which is far more than most of 'is lot would do. But yer no commoner any more than I'm a gent. That's 'ow it is, that's all."

The smile widened again and Lugg found himself strangely relieved. After another moment, Campion shifted in his chair again.

"I never did answer your question about why I was there, did I?" Campion said. "Well, I'm sorry to say that I wasn't entirely accurate with you the last time we talked. I'm not with the police in any official capacity, but our interests usually run along the same lines."

"Yer 'elping 'em catch burglars?"

"Not exactly. I was actually on the lookout for a forger. A very dangerous man named Adrian Edwards."

"Edwards? 'E's up at it again is 'e?" Lugg nodded.

"You know him?" Campion said, his head cocking to the side.

"Don' reely know 'im. Jus' know of 'im. Did a nasty bit o' business in Norfold a few years ago. Loves playing wit' knives."

"Yes," Campion said. "He killed a secretary while breaking into one of the small solicitor firms here in town. And there are people who are…concerned about what might happen to some rather important papers that went missing."

"Can't blame 'em for worryin'," Lugg nodded again. "Edwards, 'e's as good as 'e is vicious. Look 'ere, yer sayin' that yer a private 'tec?"

"That does sound like a very romantic idea, doesn't it?" Campion smiled. "I keep tossing the idea around. Although I prefer Professional Adventurer, myself. But no, this is just a favor for an old friend of mine who is in a bit of a spot."

Lugg leaned back in his chair again. He could understand helping out a friend even if it meant getting a bit dirty to do it. Suddenly, another idea came to him, causing Lugg's hackles to instantly rise.

"If yer thinkin' I'm goin' give you a line on 'im, you can just march right on out of 'ere," he growled. "I ain't a nark."

Campion blinked hard and then held up his hands. "Oh no, nothing like that. I give you my word that I'm not here to get any sort of inside information out of you."

"Then what are you 'ere for?" Lugg demanded.

"Just what I said," Campion answered with another smile. "I wanted to ask you why you saved that policeman's life."

"Which I answered…."

"Which you gave an answer to," Campion interrupted. "It's not quite the same thing, is it? Besides, believe it or not, I enjoy talking to you. I'm not sure if I can explain why. I suppose it's one of those things that can't truly be explained with words. The closest I can say is that, it feels as if I don't have to work so hard to really say something when I'm talking to you."

Lugg peered at him for a long moment. Years of living in a world where deception was common and expected had given him some insight to when someone was trying to run a fraud on him. This didn't feel like that. In fact, it almost felt like the opposite. As if Campion was actually letting go of the fraud for a change.

"Times up," the guard off to the side said. Campion nodded and got to his feet at the same time Lugg did.

Lugg stated to head back toward the corridor leading to his cells. Then he paused and shuffled back to Campion.

"Listen up, if you do find Edwards, don' let 'im get close to you. You understand? If 'e starts twitchin' 'is fingers in 'is left 'and and says 'e's goin' to give you somethin' for free, you jus' stay well back. That means 'e's gettin' ready to stick you. Got that?"

"I understand," Campion nodded, his tone serious for a change. "Thanks for the advice. I'll keep you updated."

Lugg watched Campion stroll out of the room until a prod of a club reminded him of his own destination. He gave the guard a baleful glare as he allowed himself to be herded to his cell.

This time, his mind wasn't so ready to let go of thoughts of the extraordinary young man who had just left. Campion appeared to be serious about stopping Edwards, a man Lugg would be reluctant to deal with unless he had to. Why was someone like Campion, who probably came from money and a titled family and who could be attending theater engagements or poker games at overpriced clubs, trying to handle a rotten, dangerous person like that? Campion had said that it was a favor for a friend, but Lugg sensed it was something beyond that.

Almost as if Campion was also doing this for his own satisfaction.

The clank of his cell door closing made Lugg scowl even more. For the first time since he had started his latest prison term, he felt a stronger urge than usual to get out of Parkhurst.

If only so he could track Campion down and knock some sense into him.

A week later, Lugg found out that he need not have spent days worrying about it.

"Hullo! I need to thank you again for that advice," Campion said as they sat down. "I finally caught up with Edwards, and he did exactly what you said he would do. Right down to the twitching fingers and everything. It was like something from a mystery play. How will Our Hero survive this Fateful Encounter with the Dastardly Villain? Fortunately, I was ready for him. When I was going into the alley where he was, I happen to find a piece of scrap metal that fit nicely under my coat. And I'm sure the policemen who arrested him were very pleased to be able to deal with a criminal without two fully functioning hands…."

As Campion cheerfully gave his report about how he had caught Edwards and recovered the missing papers, Lugg could only stare at him and wonder one thing.

How had he gotten tangled up with a lunatic?