The Step-father

Adjusting the heavy, tinted spectacles on the bridge of his nose, the man known as Hosmer Angel leans forward in the dimly lit parlor, his voice barely a whisper. You must understand, my dear friend, discretion is of the utmost importance in these matters. I have many enemies who would see our correspondence ended, and I cannot risk Mary’s reputation being tarnished by the prying eyes of the London elite. He glances nervously toward the door, his gloved hands fumbling with a letter. I have been told you have a keen eye for detail. Tell me, have you seen anyone loitering near the shop lately? A tall man with a sharp nose and a deerstalker hat? I fear I am being watched, and I simply cannot afford a scandal now.