"And then his shop is raided by the police, or what have you - whatever Sano may have said, he did speak to me and then a day later some stranger threatens my life about a seemingly unrelated matter -

Well, I'm just - he's hitting us specifically, he seems to be interesting in talking to each one of us. And Roby clearly appreciated The King in Yellow. I don't have an entire explanation but an image starts to form, for me, if you follow."

"I don't know what Sano told Oscar about the play. Their argument last night, as far as I can tell, started over the shop getting raided and turned into an argument about fair labor practices. --Which I agree with Oscar about, frankly, I don't know the state of worker's rights in Japan but it all sounds very dubious to me."

"-Oh. Hm." The wind is taken slightly out of Terrence's redstringing sails.

Slightly. "Still."

"And he very obviously has a vendetta against The King in Yellow, that's why he has a stake in the Roby case. But that should mean he'd be willing to help our investigation, and that's what he seems to be doing.

What concerns me about the stranger who came after you is that he's obstructing our search for information. If it's a known threat whose problem with us is over the play, we can de-escalate that. If it's an unknown entity who's taking issue with us uncovering things, that seems worse."

"I mean. We do know of one person who is relatively powerful and known to be a nasty piece of work."

"You think it's Chris Parker?" Sigh. "We're going to have to figure out how to interact with that. Everyone who knows him says not to go anywhere near him, but that's not helpful if he's the one coming near us."

"We may have to deal with him sooner or later. But after Clare Melford."

And all going well and touch wood he won't be causing any problems in two weeks time.

"I don't see that he should be trying to help us - he'd be wanting to make an avid supporter of the play look as bad and, dare I say, insane as possible.

...Still, I suppose it ought to be worth considering that there are more parties in play." Terrence doesn't sound totally convinced as he says the last part. "...Including Parker, yes."

"It could of course be a third party, but... there's not much we can do if they are. But if we assume it's Parker, it's much more useful information."

"Are you sure you can't tell us who his family friend is, William? There might be some danger there. For us, if they tell him we're asking, or for them, if he finds out they're helping us."

"I have taken steps to keep them safe." He gives a meaningful look to Terrence. Hopefully he can figure out who Jing Yi has recently taken steps to keep safe.

Another meaningful look at Terrence! Who is William talking about!

Terrence glances around. "I think the first point won't be a problem, and the second ship has already sailed," he says carefully.

"They're a family friend, but they don't like him," he reassures Sal.

"Well. If the situation's all under control. --They believe this stuff?" Maybe Terrence can get some questions in, consider the facts from a more open perspective.

"They do believe, yes."

"It takes a particular kind of person, to be willing to follow the facts to such unusual conclusions."

He sounds like he admires this sort of person, for some reason. And maybe like he is disappointed with how parts of this conversation have gone.

"They very much are." Jing Yi very much admires this person. They are the best person ever, with no flaws...

The night before the trip to Clare Melford, Sal dreams again.

Green and black light slants down through the canopy of leaves to the floor. You walk on soft moss that surrounds the trees. Old oaks make a city here, quiet but watchful. Every detail is in place. You imagine who you might meet here in this fairy tale forest, wild Cernunnos the hunter, the Faerie Queen with her donkeys, hobgoblins and sprites, the wolf at the banquet all tooth and cunning, and by thinking of them you bring them closer. Someone falls into step beside you and it’s another you imagined, the rogue, the highwayman, Wat or Will or one of those. He strides along, capable and sure, rolling on the balls of his feet with an easy gait — longbow across his back, dirk in his belt. He’s grinning. No he isn’t, you can’t keep up this conceit. The old forest is gone and, as it is, your companion becomes — who is it? If you’re Pilgrim then Faithful? Vain Confidence? But with this hesitation you’re alone and the welter of staging is replaced by bare boards, your plot by an empty page. Someone else directs your dream and you can’t escape this with the distractions of fairy tales and allegories. You’re walking to Him.

It's not the most unusual dream. Fairy tales and pretenses and emptiness and longing tinged with fear. When Sal wakes there is something familiar about it, in a disturbing way, and then consciousness comes on with a vengeance and the connection is gone.

Oscar does too. 

It’s cold outside and the bedroom window stands wide open. The curtains sigh into the room. You watch yourself sleeping, wrapping the sheets more tightly around your shoulders and you see they’re ripped, shredded into long streamers. You rise from bed and stumble out of the room. Along unfamiliar corridors and across large chambers, you notice marble, carpet, pass glass, velvet hangings, brick and porcelain, oil, and gold wood. One of you is muttering: “It’s all a distraction. All a distraction.” There’s a mask on the wall and you take it up, put it on. You see a sword and pick it up. The robe of tattered cotton plays out behind you, lending you a dignity commensurate with your task. And then you see someone in a side corridor watching you. Your doppelganger, eager and worried. Suddenly furious you hurry over, gripping the sword tightly: “You think you can stand in judgment over me? You think this has nothing to do with you?!” You wonder just what you’re capable of. “It is my crown! Mine!”

Oscar wakes up next to Hannah. It's still dark. It takes a while to remember he's going to Clare Melford today.

The only train from London to Clare Melford leaves at 5:35 PM; the ride takes 75 minutes.

This isn't going to be awkward or anything, right? Right?

Oh, it definitely is. But it won't be the worst thing that happened this week and probably won't even be the most awkward, so.

Sal sits next to her.

"You know," he says very quietly before the boys arrive, as though this is reasonable small talk, "as far as fooling around with wealthy men behind closed doors goes, Sano seems like a good choice. Very pretty in red."