Seeing that my deviated course had yielded nothing but new strangers and one lost package, I found myself presented with a choice - I could either continue my pursuit and attempt to recover the item that I had lost, or I could present my situation to my employer (leaving out, of course, all fanatical details) and supplicate forgiveness. Neither option presented the slightest of positive outcomes as Mr. Hatter had disclosed that the contents of the package were of the highest importance (he would surely be stricken by the news of it becoming lost) and both of these strangers, one of which I had foolishly decided to pursue, seemed uncatchable.
Deciding that I had simply had my fill of whimsical mystery for the day I stowed the card back in my pocket and made my way back to Mr. Hatter’s office. I had concluded that I would much rather take my chances with a man of reason than pursue these other men who, more than likely, were simply detached pieces of my imagination. I slumped back down the busy street toward the corner of Lewis and Carroll and rehearsed what I would say to my employer when he would inevitably ask how the package had become lost. I could not, surely, give a fully detailed account as to what had transpired as that would paint me as nothing more than a raving madman.
How is it that I came to be caught in this most strange of circumstance? Curiosity had indeed caught me around the arm and pulled me into quite a sticky situation. I began to pace the sidewalk in front of Mr. Hatter’s office, finalizing a simple version of the story that I was to tell. Heavy curtains now covered the large windows of his office, indicating that the meeting with his client had taken a serious turn. Perhaps evidence for some case was being presented and Mr. Hatter had smartly shut the curtains so as to discourage prying eyes. A simple ruffian had confronted me on the street and had taken the package. It was simple enough to not merit detailing questions aside from the obvious inquiry as to what this man was supposed to have looked like. He had pinned a knife to my back and had threatened to spill my blood if I turned around. His face is a mystery to me. I was prepared for what was not going to be an enjoyable conversation.
Being finally satisfied with my story, I ascended the brick steps up to the large wooden door of our law firm. The bronze doorknob rattled under my nervous hand as I slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. The polished wooden floors glinted for a moment as the light from the relatively gloomy day broke through the door. The landing was again thrown back into relative darkness when the heavy door closed behind me. My soft footsteps echoed down the long, wide hallway as I made my way to Mr. Hatter’s office door. Pausing for a moment outside I listened intently to the muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. It sounded as if he was in deep conversation with another man but such was the thickness of the door that I was unable to discern any details. I took a small, calming breath and knocked three times on the door. The sharp knock echoed through the landing as the voices from Mr. Hatter’s office ceased. Quick footsteps approached the door from the other side and it swung open. I stood face to face with Mr. Hatter, the shadow of a smile danced on his face as he looked me in the eye.
“Ah ha! My good man!” his face broke into a pleasant grin, my heart plunged. “Come in! Come in! We have recently been discussing your extraordinary efforts here at the firm!”
Mr. Hatter swung open the door and extended an arm, inviting me to enter. I smiled slightly, nodding my head, and stepped over the threshold into his familiar office. I felt entirely drenched in guilt at his kind words. My head hung and my eyes suddenly found great interest in my feet. It brought me great distress to think that this man who had trusted me entirely ever since the day that we first made acquaintances was about to be fully disappointed.
Upon taking a few more steps into the room, I remembered that we were not alone and looked up to see who Mr. Hatter had been meeting with all morning. The two men before me could not have been any more opposites in their dress, age, and demeanor.
The older man seated in the chair in front of Mr. Hatter’s large wooden desk was grizzly and seemed too large to be allowed. This is not, by any means, to say that this man was portly. No, no! Slouched over in the leather, high-backed chair he looked more like a bear than a man. His shoulders were hunched but broad and muscular, as were his arms and legs. Alas, the entirety of the man’s body seemed to be made of hulking, chiseled muscle. He wore tattered brown work boots that had been patched in various places and his light blue pants were in similar disrepair. By the smell of him it was clear that he worked at the docks, for the man carried with him the fragrance of seawater and fish. His upper body was covered in a tightly knit, faded yellow coat that went down just past his waist line. It was the type of coat that was mostly worn by sailors as its tightly knit design did not allow much penetration of water. His bald head was coarse and overly scarred. One scar in particular stretched from the very top of his head, down his forehead and ended just below his left eye. His face seemed entirely askew with small dark eyes and a short, crooked nose. His jaw protruded slightly forward and was cocked a little to the right. This man was clearly an experienced brawler who had been in a dozen too many fights. He looked quickly over his shoulder as I entered, made fleeting eye contact, looked me quickly up and down and then turned to focus once again on the opposite wall.
His younger associate stood next to Mr. Hatter’s desk and had yet to look at me. Instead he stared intently through the small slit in the curtains where a sliver of light shone on the bookcase behind the desk. He was tall and slender and seemed to be more rigid than the other man. While the older man slouched and seemed overall uncomfortable (he began to fidget with the sole of his shoe), this man stood straight as a post and barely moved but for his darting eyes.
The man was dressed completely in black except for white shirt cuffs that protruded slightly from the end of his coat sleeve. His black, slightly heeled shoes were long and shiny. He wore tailored pants with crisp creases and cuffs. His long coat hung down below his knees and was buttoned tightly around his neck. He had long, dark hair that fell over his face and eyes. His hair was the only thing on his figure that did not seem to belong. Here was a man dressed in the finest of fabrics yet his hair looked mangled and unkempt. The skin on his face was tanned and slightly weathered. Under his long, slender nose was a thin, greased mustache. His lips curled into a frown as he extended his left arm out and parted the curtains a little more. His right hand was stuffed into the front of his coat. This mannerism prompted me to be reminded of (I felt extremely odd as I had to stifle a laugh) a tall, wicked Napoleon Bonaparte.
I stood on the hardwood floor and was overwhelmed by my own foolishness. My employer had been speaking of me to these gentlemen and now I was to stand here and inform Mr. Matter that I had lost possession of his important package. The door shut behind me and Mr. Hatter clapped me on the back as he walked back around to sit at his desk.
“I was just informing these gentlemen that I had sent you to deliver their package.” Mr. Hatter said with a fond smile.
My stomach seemed to drop into my knees. The package had actually belonged to Mr. Hatter’s very stern visitors. My head dropped again as the chances of a decent outcome to this series of events was whisked away. The man by the window looked sharply at me and then at Mr. Hatter, who was now leaning back in his chair and smiling. Mr. Hatter nodded to the tall man and then looked back up at me, his eyes twinkling.
“Well?” Mr. Hatter clapped his hands together and twiddled back and forth in his chair. “You have it, I assume?”
My head shot up and I looked quizzically at Mr. Hatter. He simply beamed back at me.
“H-have it?” I looked from Mr. Hatter to the other men, who were now both eyeing me intently. “But...you didn’t want the package delivered, then? Forgive me; I am at a complete loss as to the motive of the questi-”
“By the powers, does he have it or not?!” growled the tall man in the corner, balling his left hand into a fist and stamping his foot.
“James.” the man in the chair raised a hand in silence, “Surely you have noticed that he is not in possession of the package and it has clearly not been delivered. So, I would assume that he must have it.”
The bulky man who was seated turned to face me over the top of the chair; “Otherwise...” he paused for effect and looked quickly from my shoes to my face. The amount of showmanship on display was something that I would never have guessed would come from a man such as this nor would I have guessed him to speak so eloquently, “...he would have informed his employer immediately upon his return. Furthermore, have you ever seen a messenger looking so distraught after a successful delivery?” He looked me up and down again, “Clearly he does not have the package, nor was it delivered. If you require further evidence, consider his shoes” He looked quickly at Mr. Hatter and then back at me, smiled and slouched back down into his chair, his fingers slightly intertwined in front of his face.
“Pardon me, but, his shoes?” inquired Mr. Hatter
“Yes, of course his shoes! Oh, don’t be so dull. The post office is situated four blocks north of the corner of Lewis and Carrol and, therefore, in order to deliver the package our boy would have had to cross the street and unless I am entirely mistaken it has been raining outside for at least a fortnight,” the man looked around the room, scoffed, and then continued, “So, unless the streets have been paved since this morning, they would be made of mud and unless Mr. Wilshire is highly trained in shoe cleaning...” the man glanced at me again, “Unlikely… then he must not have strayed from the sidewalk, therefore he must not have delivered the package.”
Of all the strange things that I had seen today this surely had to be the strangest. The other experiences could merely be dismissed by daydreams or my own imaginations. This, however, was truly extraordinary. This rough and tumble man who smelled of fish and was covered in the most brutal of scars spoke with the grace of a Cambridge law professor. I opened my mouth to speak but found no words. I stood, mouth drooping, looking from the back of the man’s chair to Mr. Hatter, who merely smiled back at me as if completely amused. The man by the window stood silently, a look of great loathing on his face, his eyes fixed on me.
(Next Post: Chapter 2 continued)
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