A Short Sharp Shock

Chapter 3

Mr. Crouch strolled over to Sir John's side and slapped him on the back. "Capital idea!But I hope you don't expect me to sing, old man. I'm told I sing like a frog."

The friendly back-slap turned into something close to a hug as Mr. Crouch squeezed his host's shoulder and gave it a little shake. There was a glint in Crouch's eyes that made his toothy grin seem manic.

Sir John freed himself from the other's grasp. "No one expects you to. Old man."

"Oh, no, you don't have to sing," Hannah said brightly. Hannah had a lovely singing voice and she knew it. She took advantage of every opportunity to demonstrate her talent, but she really didn't wish to share the spotlight. She turned to smile at us. "And dear Florence shall play for us, while I sing. Do say you will!"

Florence Gilbert's face was a study in surprise. "Oh. Well, Hannah, if I could have just a little word with you."

Hannah covered her mouth and giggled. "I'm so bad! I should have asked you before. Do forgive me."

The two turned aside and began talking in low voices.

Mr. Crouch clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. "Tonight we can try that special blend that I brought with me, old man. Why not tell the other fellows, and we'll make a party of it? After the ladies toddle off, what?"

"If you want." Sir John turned on his heel and went to talk to Mr. Niemand.

It was terribly unfair of this Crouch to invite the gentlemen to have a little party amongst themselves without including the ladies. After all, we were guests too.

I smiled sweetly at Mr. Crouch. "And why can't the ladies share in the fun, Mr. Crouch?"

"Lucy!" Maude Gilbert said, aghast.

Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows into mischievous peaks and laid one forefinger beside his nose like someone about to share a great secret. "Aha, you ladies always want to know a man's secrets! It's nothing. Just some absinthe which I hoped to share. But I know how you females are. You disapprove. And quite rightly, too."

"Absinthe? What is that?"

"A liqueur, I think," replied Maude. "It comes from France, I think."

"Oh, France," I said knowingly. That meant it was probably naughty. All alcoholic beverages were quite bad for one's health and reputation, and if it was French, that just made it worse.

"Absinthe is not appreciated here as it ought to be," Mr. Crouch said, his Punch-like face drooping into a tragic expression. Then his smile burst forth again. "It is unique and delightful, not to mention healthful! It is made from many herbs, which give it a lovely green color. In fact, it has been used for many years as a malaria preventive."

Mama appeared at my side. "In Yorkshire in November," she said dryly, "malaria is hardly a concern."

Mr. Crouch's dark eyes lit with enthusiasm. "But my dear lady, you cannot deny that absinthe has been so used. All round the Continent, absinthe is enjoyed by all social classes, including the wealthy bourgeoisie. In fact, the beverage has so many admirers that five o'clock in the evening is known in France as "l'heure verte"— the green hour, as we might say."

"Oh, France," Mama said, as if that explained a great deal. "Well, it's not a beverage for young ladies, and probably shouldn't be taken by young gentlemen either."

Mr. Crouch bowed politely. "Which is why I suggested that the gentlemen wait until the ladies had retired."

Since Mama couldn't instruct the gentlemen not to drink, she pressed her lips together firmly.