Cyr Mystery Chapter 17 After the magistrate’s departure, Sebastian poured himself a tankard of ale and went to stand before the empty hearth, one boot resting on the cold fender. He stood for a long time, running through all he knew about Gabrielle Tennyson’s last days, and all he still needed to learn. Then he sent for his valet. “My lord?” asked Calhoun, bowing gracefully. To all appearances, Jules Calhoun was the perfect gentleman’s gentleman, elegant and urbane and polished. But the truth was that the valet had begun life in one of the most notorious flash houses in London, a background that gave him some interesting skills and a plethora of useful contacts. “Ever hear of a man named Jamie Knox?” Sebastian asked, drawing on his gloves. “He owns a tavern in Bishopsgate called the Black Devil.” “I have heard of him, my lord. But only by repute. It is my understanding he arrived in London some two or three years ago.” “See what else you can find out about him.”
