The ritual practice continued until evening. Because the afternoon treats for the stray cats had been far too generous, when Jenkins tried to shoo them away, they seed intent on making their ho right there.
Jenkins had no choice but to bring Chocolate out. The little cat didn't even have to make a move before the three strays fled with their tails between their legs.
"Just as I thought," Jenkins muttered. "Every cat is scared of Chocolate!"
After finishing his work for the day, Jenkins first went to pay the antique shop's monthly steam bill for Pops. He was pestered for quite a while by a receptionist trying to sell him an annual plan before he finally managed to escape the administrative office.
Seeing that it was getting close to dinnerti, he hurried back to St. George Avenue to change his clothes. He had just locked the gate and was about to find an available carriage to take him to Maidenhaven Road when Mr. Nelly's personal carriage rounded the corner by the steam valve.
"Mr. Williatte, where are you headed?"
He seed to have co to visit Jenkins.
"I have so things to attend to this evening..."
Jenkins flicked open the cover of his pocket watch, hinting that he was short on ti.
"Is that so? Would I have the honor of giving you a ride? I imagine you were planning to take a carriage."
As he spoke, the portly rchant had his coachman pull the carriage over to the side of the road. He then personally opened the carriage door, his short, stout hand, adorned with a large jeweled ring, resting on the fra.
"Very well, then. I'm going to Maidenhaven Road in the Sabine District."
Jenkins didn't refuse and boarded the carriage.
Just as he suspected, Mr. Nelly had intended to discuss matters on the way. His complexion was excellent today; he looked a good ten years younger.
"Baron Williatte, I believe your exorcism the other day truly worked! Gods be praised, I haven't dreamt of those terrible things for the past two nights!"
He exclaid with such excitent that Jenkins worried the buttons on his waistcoat might pop off.
"Perhaps it's because you've been resting well lately," Jenkins offered. "I heard from a doctor that nightmares can be related to one's level of fatigue and mood during the day."
He said it with a smile, maintaining his usual attitude of disbelief in evil spirits.
Mr. Nelly noticed this and didn't press the issue. Beaming, he leaned back against the soft cushions.
"In any case, I'm truly grateful to you for this. My friends had also suggested I consult a professional psychologist. I suppose what you did could be considered a form of psychological intervention."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Of course. The term is... oh, sothing like 'suggestion,' that's it."
He punched his fist into his palm, then, as if rembering sothing, he took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Jenkins.
"This is a check from the Travelers' Bank. I believe you know how to use it."
The check was for an exorbitant amount.
"No, I won't accept this. Please, put it away."
"But..."
"If you wish for us to continue working together, please take it back."
Jenkins understood perfectly. The great rchant, newly arrived in Nolan, must have finally heard about his "status" in high society. Otherwise, the amount on the check would have had a few fewer zeros.
"Very well."
He chuckled awkwardly. "But this matter..."
"I won't tell anyone," Jenkins assured him. "After all, performing an exorcism without a license is illegal."
Both n were exceptionally pleased with the outco. Mr. Nelly was free from his troubles, and Jenkins had gained new information while purifying the spirit. It was a win-win situation.
And then there was the earring and those transparent, pearl-like objects. The forr was temporarily in Hathaway's keeping. After so research, the latter turned out to be an edible substance that could increase an Enchanter's Spirit, sothing only a spiritual entity of extrely high purity could produce.
Jenkins had already eaten them. They tasted slightly bitter, which he guessed was the true taste of tears. He resisted the urge to look up the value of the substance, afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from getting angry at his cat.
"Speaking of which, I really am so grateful. I'd already found so people in Nolan City who claid they could drive out evil spirits. Looking back, I suppose they were all just con artists."
The rchant said cheerfully.
But Jenkins believed that, at this point in ti in Nolan City, the probability of running into an Enchanter trying to make so money was much higher than running into a con artist.
"I even signed up for a Spirit Incident Support Group. Everyone there has their own story. I'm sure you know what a support group is, right? People sitting in a circle of chairs, sharing their stories..."
"I do. Of course. It's quite common."
Jenkins nodded, stroking the impatient Chocolate beside him. Mr. Nelly's carriage was filled with a thick, cloying perfu that was so overwhelming Jenkins had to breathe through his mouth, which muffled his voice. It was surely even worse for the cat, whose sense of sll was always sharp.
"You probably don't need to attend that group anymore," Jenkins advised. "While I've never believed in things like evil spirits, associating too much with people who have such bad luck can affect one's own mood and fortune."
"Baron Williatte, you're absolutely right! That's exactly what I was thinking... Those people probably aren't very reputable either. The person who introduced claid they had a magical mirror that could help..."
"A mirror?"
Jenkins was sensitive to that word. He blinked but maintained his look of disinterest.
"What kind of mirror? An antique?"
"The man didn't go into detail. Who knows? Probably just so magician's trick."
Jenkins smiled.
"If that's the case, I'm actually quite interested. You know, writers like are often troubled by a lack of inspiration. Perhaps those interesting stories..."
"I understand."
The rchant nodded tactfully. "If you're interested, then please, attend in my place. Don't worry about your identity. It's a bit unseemly for soone like to attend such a gathering, so I used the excuse that a friend of mine was having problems. However, your picture has been in the newspapers, which might cause so trouble."
"You needn't worry about that, either. I only need the stories. Perhaps I'll hire a private detective or soone else. We live in a convenient age; as long as you have gold pounds, most things can be accomplished."
"How very thoughtful of you."
The rchant praised him, then shifted in his seat, pulled down a notepad hanging on the side of the carriage, and began writing down the details of the Spirit Incident Support Group.
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