Got to really buckle down for this one.
I was very worried that I might have to beat Victor senseless, or worse, with my cane. I didn’t want to, and wouldn’t have liked to; but when you’re following a man who murdered a man with his nails and teeth, then dined on rabbits and squirrels for dessert, the decision is not always yours to make. If Victor was rational by now, I was sure we could get him somewhere for a nice rest cure; if he wasn’t, well, it wasn’t like he was a major heir. I could get away with some rough handling. What I hadn’t expected was to discover Victor simply… placid. Although from the way his mouth and lower face was black in the moonlight, I suppose ‘sated’ would be a better term.
He was lolling on a park bench as we approached, head up and looking calmly at the moon. He did not turn to look at us; instead he sniffed, deeply. “Oh, hullo, Eddie,” he rumbled. “I’m so sorry; I left you behind! And, hah, the girl too. I never did get to grips with her.” His head snapped forward, and I could see his white grin in the gloom. “Maybe I’ll go back tomorrow night. Who’s your friend?”
“He’s, ah, you know. Mister W[*],” Edgar stammered, in a way that I found oddly gratifying. “I’m sure you know that name, Vic! I sent for him when you had your, ah, trouble.”
“Trouble? I haven’t had any trouble.” Victor guffawed, and I blinked. That didn’t sound like a dandy’s laugh at all. My hackles didn’t like it, either, and I wasn’t even sure that I possessed any. “Everyone else had the troubles this evening.”