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Bartoloni responded to Burton's knocking. His eyes widened withsurprise when he saw the blood on his visitor's face but he quicklyregained his composure and acted as if there was nothinguntoward.
“ Vi prego di entrare, signori,” he said, with a slight bow. “Il ristorante e’ chiuso mai vostri amici sono al piano di sopra.”
“ Grazie, signore,” Burton responded.
Passing through the eatery, he and Swinburne entered a doormarked “Private” and ascended a staircase to the rooms above.
In a large, wood-panelled chamber, comfortably furnished andwith its own bar, they found fellow members of the Ca
Tall, handsome, enigmatic, and saturnine in aspect, Milnes wasone of Sir Richard Francis Burton's best friends and staunchestsupporters. Rich and influential, he'd interceded many times in thepast when lesser men had tried to undermine the famous explorer. Healso owned the largest collection of erotica ever gathered by aprivate collector. It included everything written by the Marquis deSade-plus thousands of ba
Burton and Swinburne entered the room to find Milnes standing inits centre pontificating about the latest Technologistdevelopments.
“-so they take the species Scarabaeus sacer,” he was saying,“more commonly known as the scarab beetle, and their Eugenicistsgrow them to the size of a milk wagon!”
“Be damned!” Charles Bradlaugh exclaimed.
“I'm sure the Technologists will be, for once each beetle hasmatured, the engineers kill the poor creatures, scrape ’em out, andinsert a seat and controls in the front and a bench and steamengine in the back. Thus a man can sit in the beetle, with hisfamily behind him, and drive the blessed thing.”
“By thunder!” Henry Murray cried. “Yet another new species ofvehicle!”
“My good man!” Milnes objected. “You're missing the pointentirely. It's not a species of vehicle, it's a species of insect;and not just any insect, but the one held sacred by the ancientEgyptians! They are being grown on farms and summarily executed,without so much as a by-your-leave, for the express purpose ofsupplying a ready-made shell. And the Technologists have thetemerity to name this vehicle the Folks’ Wagon! It is not a wagon!It's a beetle! It's a living creature, which mankind is mercilesslyexploiting for its own ends. It's sacrilege!”
“Interesting that you should rail against the exploitation ofinsects by scientists when, it seems, the greater percentage ofLondon's population is currently up in arms over the exploitationof the working classes by the aristocracy,” Burton declared. “Arelabourers no better than insects, in your view?”
“Richard!” Milnes cried, turning to face the newcomers. “Howgood to see you! How long have you been standing there, and-byGeorge!-why is that bestial face of yours covered in blood? Don'ttell me you've been in yet another scrap? Are you drunk? Hallo,Swinburne!”
“We're perfectly sober.”
“I'm a little hungover, actually,” the poet added.
“You poor things! Hunt, old horse, supply these good fellowswith a tipple at once. Large ones! It's a medical emergency!Murray, fetch a basin of water, there's a good chap.”
Burton and Swinburne collapsed into big leather armchairs andgratefully accepted the proffered drinks.
“What happened?” Bendyshe asked. “Did you get caught up in thepublic disorder like Brabrooke?”
“Brabrooke? What happened to him?”
“He was hit over the head with a spade. A crossing cleanerattacked him out of the blue, for no good reason.”
“He's all right,” said Bradlaugh. “He has a mild concussion anda nasty laceration but he'll be on his feet again in a couple ofdays.”
“Poor old Brabrooke!” Swinburne exclaimed.
“So you were in the thick of it too, hey?” Milnes asked.
“Somewhat,” Burton answered. “We were at Speakers’ Corner whenthe fracas began.”
“Ah ha!” Bendyshe shouted gleefully. “So you started it, hey?Was young Swinburne giving a public performance? Is that what setthem off?”
“The performance wasn't from Algernon. It was from the TichborneClaimant.”
“Gad!” Milnes exclaimed. “That character is certainly stirringup a hornets’ nest.”
“He is. We managed to extricate ourselves, but then, on the wayhere, we were set upon by a prostitute.”
The men burst out laughing.
“Ha ha!” Bendyshe yelled triumphantly. “Surely beastly Burtonhasn't been trounced by a terrible trollop?”
“I can assure you that it was no laughing matter. And less ofthe ‘beastly,’ if you don't mind.”
“She was half crazed,” Swinburne said. “And she was lashing atus with whips!” He gri
“But what on earth did you do to set her off, dear boy?” Milnesasked.
“Took his shilling's worth and the shilling as well, I'llwager!” Bendyshe guffawed.
“Not a bit of it,” Burton grumbled. “We were on our way here andgot caught up in it through no fault of our own.”
“The unwashed masses have gone mad,” opined Murray, who'd justreentered the room with a basin of warm water in his hands andwhite towels draped over his forearms. “It's this Tichbornecharacter.”
“Yes, Milnes was just saying,” Bradlaugh offered.
“The Claimant's become some sort of figurehead,” Murraycontinued. “To the lower classes, he represents everything that'sbad in an aristocrat and everything that's good in a working man,all wrapped up in one extremely bulbous bundle. It's patentlyabsurd. Here, wipe the blood off yourselves. You look perfectlyhorrific.”
“It occurs to me,” said Burton, “that a symbol ca
He picked up a towel, dipped a corner into the water, and beganto rub it over his face. He looked up at Richard Monckton Milnes.“As a matter of fact, the Tichborne situation is what we've come totalk to you about. The Claimant seems to have acquired a bodyguardof Rakes. Do you have any idea why?”
“Has he, indeed? That seems rather peculiar!”
“That's what we thought. What are the Rakes up to these days?Who's their new leader?”
“I'm afraid I can't cast much light on the matter. The veil ofsecrecy surrounding the faction has never been more impenetrable.The new leader is a Russian, I believe, and arrived in this countryearly in February. Who he is, where he's staying-those arequestions I can't answer.”
“He?” said Burton. “Or she?”
“Hmm. I couldn't say. A woman, though? Doesn't that seem ratherunlikely? What I can tell you is this: since he-or she-took over,the Rakes have been holding seances around the clock.”
“Well now, that's interesting! Are they trying to communicatewith someone who's died? Laurence Oliphant or Henry Beresford,perhaps?”
“I don't know, Richard, but if they are speaking to thedeparted, then I doubt that it's their former leaders they'reconversing with.”
“Why so?”
“Simply because the Rakes who were closest to Oliphant and theMad Marquess have been rather on the out and out these months past.The new regime has been assiduous in sidelining the old.”
“So who's close to the new leader? Can you name names?”
Milnes looked thoughtful for a moment but then shrugged andsaid: “I'd help if I could, but I simply don't know any of the newcrowd.”