The Case of the Curious Client: A Bow Street Society Mystery (third edition) by T.G. Campbell

Author:T.G. Campbell [Campbell, T.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: T.G. Campbell
Published: 2016-06-29T23:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Mr Glasgow cradled his appointment book and turned its pages as he entered the waiting room of his photography business. Finding a well-dressed gentleman warming his hands by the fire, he enquired, “Dr Alexander?”

“Yes. Mr Lanford Glasgow, I presume?” Dr Alexander replied, leaving the fire and crossing the room with an outstretched hand.

Mr Glasgow closed his book and tucked it under his arm. “Indeed,” he said, shaking his hand. “If you’ll be so kind as to follow me, Doctor, we’ll have your photograph taken in no time.”

“Jolly good,” Dr Alexander remarked and followed Mr Glasgow, first onto the landing and then to the next door along. Allowing his host to enter the room ahead of him, he enquired, “How long have you been a photographer as well as a lawyer?”

“Only a year.”

The room was around twenty feet long and ten feet wide with a petite bureau in its far corner beside a window hidden by a heavy, burgundy-coloured curtain. Hanging from a rail fixed to the wall to Dr Alexander’s left as he entered was an identical curtain that Mr Glasgow pulled back to reveal a second door. Going through it, he led Dr Alexander into an equally long but narrower room with a boxed camera and tripod in its centre. A black cloak that kept the photographer in pitch-darkness hung from the camera’s back whilst a brass cap covered it lens. The light of four gas lamps caressed the darkness from their sconces mounted upon the walls, but it was insufficient for Mr Glasgow’s purpose. Even a layman such as Dr Alexander realised a great deal more light was required to capture the perfect photographic print of his likeness. Having made his way to the other side of the room, though, Mr Glasgow tossed back another curtain and the room was filled by cold daylight in an instant.

The studio’s back wall was adorned with a pastel-coloured mural of an English country garden with another burgundy curtain tied back by gold rope beside it. An immense rug of identical colour almost entirely covered the dark, lacquered floorboards. Standing on one side of it was a chaise lounge displaying an arrangement of sun-faded cushions, and sporting several large, vertical tears down its highest side. Narrow strips of fabric dangled from the wounds in a familiar way to Dr Alexander. Unless he could examine them further, though, he could neither confirm nor dismiss his suspicions, but he also wasn’t willing to offend his host by doing so without his permission. He therefore continued his visual examination of the studio with the wooden column carved and painted to look like white stone, and the large-leafed plant in a round, dull-brass pot atop it. Against the back wall was a table laden with blank sheets of paper, glass plates, empty trays, and bottles containing chemicals, including cellulose nitrate, silver nitrate, potassium cyanide, and pyrogallic acid. A heavy, black curtain hung around the table, suspended from the ceiling by a brass pole, whilst a line of string was tied across the back wall above it.

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