Chapter Two

The next month continued on the same way. Every Thursday, Campion would come and visit Lugg and tell him about his latest exploits or simply chat about anything that came into his head from a play he had seen to the merits of keeping birds as pets as opposed to dogs.

At first, Lugg mostly remained silent during these visits. He was still unsure of what Campion's motives were and later he simply wasn't confident that he could come up with anything to add to the conversations.

That is, until he realized that being sarky wasn't as unwelcome as he thought it would be.

"…Oh course, by that point, I realized I had to leave that party. I simply couldn't get away from that man and he wouldn't stop blathering about one nonsense topic after another."

Lugg gave him a pointed look. "Yeah, I've known people like that."

Campion immediately caught onto his meaning. "And I've spent time with stone gargoyles who were more sociable than you. Tell me, did they kick you out of one of their colonies?"

"As if you could ever stand hangin' 'round a ruddy statue," Lugg snorted. "Then 'oo would you show orf to or 'ave laugh at yer sarcasms?"

Campion scowled at him. "You have a beastly sense of humor. Do you know that?"

The words almost sounded like they were meant to sting, but Lugg had already learned to spot the mischievous glint in Campion's eyes that showed up when he was merely being playful. It was different than his usual vague, congenial demeanor and wasn't always easy to spot behind his glasses.

Then again, Lugg had always been more observant of people than he was given credit for. Something that had served him well over the years.

Then, suddenly, the glint was gone, and Campion leaned toward him.

"Why did you save that policeman's life?" he asked again. "Take a stab at the truth this time. You might enjoy it."

Still in a jocular mood, Lugg decided to take the lead from the young man across from him with his answer.

"There might 'ave bin some young ladies walkin' 'round there. Little kiddies too. That would 'ave bin a terrible sight for them, a man meetin' 'is end like that. Shakes you to the core."

Campion leaned back in his chair with a wide, knowing smile on his face. "Very amusing. I mean it. It was a valiant attempt. I almost could believe that explanation."

"Why do you want to know any'ow?" Lugg said, his tone a little colder now. "Wot difference does it make? 'E's alive, ain't 'e?"

"In a way, I suppose you're right," Campion conceded. "A man's life was saved. The reasons why that happened shouldn't be as important as the result. Nevertheless, while it might not matter in the grand scheme of things, it does matter to me. I have my reasons for that."

Lugg frowned. Over these last few weeks, he had gotten to know Campion well enough to know when he was being sincere, but that knowledge did not make him any less suspicious as to why Campion was so persistent on this point.

For a moment, Lugg was tempted to act on his suspicions. To tell Campion to mind his own business and maybe even suggest that he stop coming here to pester him. However, at that moment, the guard came over to remind them that visiting time was over, and Lugg found himself strangely relieved that he missed his chance.

One month later, Lugg lumbered in for his usual Thursday visit and was given his next major surprise when he saw two teacups sitting on the table between himself and Campion, one in front of each of them.

He was even more surprised though when the guard reached down to remove his handcuffs.

"I spoke to the warden and was finally able to help him understand that it's impractical to share tea with someone when they are limited in the use of their hands," Campion said, lifting his own cup to take a sip.

Lugg rubbed his wrists for a moment to give himself time to find his voice again.

"What's this?" he said, pointing at the cup in front of him.

"I already told you," Campion said lightly. "Tea. Earl Grey to be exact. I'm not sure why, but I have you pegged as an Earl Grey man."

Lugg's face twisted with exasperation. "Not that. Why is there a perishing cup 'o tea 'ere in the first place?"

"I thought you would enjoy it," Campion replied as if he had been asked why he breathed in and out. "Tea adds coziness to a conversation between friends. At least, that's what the advertisements say. Don't you agree?"

Lugg didn't reply. It didn't escape his notice that Campion had used the word 'friend' to describe him and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Still, he did regard Campion warmly enough to not want to be unnecessarily rude to him.

Lugg picked up his cup and took a small sip from it, making sure to not wince from the taste. Then he took another before sitting it down and pushing it a little to the side.

"I'm sorry, is it not quite the right temperature?" Campion said. "Or perhaps it's the lack of something. Milk, sugar or lemon maybe? I would have arranged for a full setting if I could, but you wouldn't believe how dreadfully difficult it was just to get the cup in here."

"It's not that," Lugg replied. "Jus' never bin one much for tea. I can drink it, but it's not my choice."

"I see," Campion nodded. "So what do you prefer? Coffee, perhaps? I'm afraid spirits of any sort are out of the question."

Lugg colored slightly. There was something he truly enjoyed when he could get his hands on it, but it felt almost childish to ask for under the circumstances.

He glanced back over at his cup. He wasn't really that fond of tea, but it was a comforting reminder of life outside of Parkhurst. Lugg started to reach for it again, but before his hand could even touch it, the guard, a man named Cuttlebert, snatched it up.

"He wasn't drinking it," Cuttlebert snorted in response to the disapproving glare from Campion. "And he shouldn't be having it anyway. I know you're all pally with the warden, but I don't see why you should get special privileges. 'Specially since I've heard 'Campion' isn't even your real name and you're…."

"That's enough," Campion said, his voice colder and full of an authority Lugg had never heard from him before. It was enough to make both he and Cuttlebert flinch.

"I shall be having a conversation with your superior," Campion continued. "I'm sure he will have a few words for you about gossiping and loose talk. For now…." He finished what was in his cup and set it aside. "…you may take these away and send in your fellow guard in here to mind the store."

Cuttlebert picked up the other cup and hastily exited the room. A moment later, another guard came in and took up his post a discrete distance away.

Throughout all of this, Lugg watched with barely hidden astonishment. Once Campion got a glimpse of the dumbfounded expression on his face, he let out a long sigh and slumped in his chair.

"Rather than confuse things further, I should try to make this plain to you," he said, his voice strangely lethargic. "The guard was not wrong. My name…at least the one my parents gave me at birth…is Rudolph K—well, it only really matters if you have a vested interest in the aristocracy. I don't have much use for it myself which is why I chose 'Albert Campion' some time ago."

Campion shifted in his chair, his eyes unreadable behind his spectacles. "I am sorry if it seemed as if I had deceived you. It truly was not my intention. And I would prefer to remain 'Albert Campion' if at all possible…although I understand how that might be disconcerting to you, and…."

"It makes no odds to me," Lugg said with a shrug. "You say 'Albert Campion', fine. 'Albert Campion' it is then."

For once, it was Campion's turn to be surprised. "It doesn't bother you? I can assure you, I had not meant to lie, but…."

"Look 'ere," Lugg interrupted. "The way I see it, if you decide to chuck yer name and yer title to be 'Albert Campion'…well, you got yer reasons for that. Maybe I don' see them, but they're yer reasons and they mean somethin' to you. I'm not goin' to argue that. To me, yer 'Albert Campion' and that's that."

Campion's mouth fell open slightly, and Lugg noted the look of shock in those owlish eyes. Seconds later, shock turned into a smile with more sincerity and actual joy in it than Lugg had ever seen from him.

It only took another moment, however, before Campion regained his usual vague affability.

"I am sorry about the Earl Grey. I really must learn to read people better in regards to food and drink. Alas, there is only so much you can get from etiquette books. Until then, won't you tell me what I should bring instead?"

"I'm not stayin' at the Savoy, 'ere," Lugg sighed. "Don' worry yerself about it. Getting those bracelets orf is enough for me."

Lugg figured that that would be the end of it and his theory was confirmed the next week when there was no teacup with Campion's usual visit.

It wasn't until the next week after that, that Lugg realized that Campion had not let the idea go after all. Once again, there were two cups on the table. The one nearer to Campion definitely held tea, but Lugg didn't think that was what was in the other one.

After he sat down and had his handcuffs removed, he caught a whiff from the cup and was finally able to identify it. He blinked hard in surprise and lifted the cup to his lips.

Then Lugg was treated to the richest, creamiest cocoa he had ever tasted. He had always enjoyed humbler versions of it whenever he could scrape up enough to afford a little luxury, but he could already tell that this was at least a couple steps above what he had savored in the past.

Once he got a taste, Lugg couldn't hide his pleasure, eagerly gulping down almost a third of it in one vigorous swallow. Its warmth and richness spread though his entire body. It was easily the best thing he had tasted in months.

There was a hint of a smile on his face when he looked up to see Campion watching him with a smile of his own. Lugg immediately let his face fall back into its usual lugubrious expression.

"It's all right," he said, making sure to take smaller sips from that point on. A part of him felt guilty that he wasn't thanking Campion directly, but the flicker of satisfaction in those pale eyes told Lugg that it wasn't really needed.

"I'm glad you approve," Campion nodded. "The man at the store had made some suggestions and he did seem to know his business very well. I'll be sure to congratulate him on his perceptiveness the next time I see him."

No more was said on the subject after that. Campion's cup of Darjeeling and Lugg's cup of cocoa simply became another part of their routine.

Two months later, Lugg was treated to yet another surprise. But this one was far colder than the previous ones had been.

He had just finished his cocoa when he noticed that Campion had left his tea half-finished. A sense of dread started to rise up within him when he also observed the slight lessening of enthusiasm in Campion's usual tirades of inanity.

Then the bottom fell out.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to make our usual visits for a while," Campion said. "I have a friend in a European country that is best left nameless who is afraid that there are those who have some nasty ideas in mind for him. There aren't many people he can turn to, so I offered my assistance."

Lugg frowned, but gave no other reaction. So here it was. Once in a while, he had considered that this day would come eventually, but as the weeks and then months dragged on, it had become more and more remote to him. Now, however, Lugg realized that he would have to face what had surely been inevitable all along.

He would have to face the fact that Campion had finally tired of this hobby of his and was ready to move on.

"I wish I could tell you more about it," Campion continued. "But I'm not entirely sure how this will work out. It's probably better that as few people as possible know. Anyway, I did think it was best that you know this much so you wouldn't have to wonder about where I had dashed off to. I hope to only be gone for a couple of weeks, but I can't say for certain. I'll be sure to tell you all about the popular tourist destinations I'll be passing by."

"Do I look like a perishing travel guide to you?" Lugg snapped, his older, much more churlish tone rising. "Wot do I care about some blinking castles and the like?"

Campion blinked in surprise at the harshness of Lugg's tone, but his usual cheer did not waver. He looked like he was about to say something else, but a gesture from the guard indicated that time was short which put a halt to whatever it was.

Campion stood up and then, clearly on an impulse, reached over to give one of Lugg's hands a quick, but firm shake. The guard took a warning step closer, but the gesture was so brief, nothing came of it.

"Give my regards to Queen and country until I return," Campion said as he was ushered to the door.

Then the guard motioned for Lugg to stand and present his wrists to be cuffed which Lugg did wordlessly. The silence continued as Lugg made his way back to his cell and was placed inside. Once he was there, he sat down heavily onto the battered, threadbare contraption the prison staff claimed was his bed.

Despite the certainty he had that he wouldn't be seeing Campion again, a sliver of doubt picked away at him. Campion was a nob, sure, but he wasn't like the rest of them. He couldn't be. Why else would he carry on visiting some random burglar he had a chance meeting with for months? On top of that, Lugg figured that Campion must have held some warm feelings toward him to arrange it so he could drink hot chocolate and have his handcuffs removed while visiting. That had to have taking considerable effort to arrange on Campion's part.

None of this seemed like the actions of a bored aristocrat who was just having a laugh. In fact, they had felt like the actions of a friend.

'Right 'cause 'e's such an odd one, 'e 'as to go to Parkhurst to find a mate rather than goin' wit' all those other nobs and artsy types who go for odd.'

Lugg frowned, his hands clenching the edge of his bed. He'd become soft. Campion's visits had made him soft, lured him into an easy compliancy he could ill-afford here. There was no room for soft in Parkhurst. No place for hopes crafted from fanciful ideas about friendship and understanding between two people who never had any business associating with each other.

But it was over now. Now, there was just that nagging doubt that he would have to extinguish. Lugg wasn't too concerned about that though. Any sparks that he couldn't put out himself with his own resignation, time would take care of.

After all, time was one of the only things Lugg had left. Even if he could never call a single moment of it his own any more.