‘Never had it.’
‘Then you’re blessed. And you saw I had a dose of it before, when I did my quick switch back and forth to show you my credentials.’ Hackett straightened up and eyed him. ‘I envy you, sir, you are evidently a more adept Waltzer than I am.’
‘Waltzer?’
‘It’s my name for what we do – this. To Waltz. Don’t you think the borrowing is appropriate? For we dance, you and I, as light on our feet as two German princelings, and skip to left and right, or in some direction, faster than the eye can follow. Waltz, do you see? Although I know the dance isn’t so fashionable yet in the twopenny hops of Lambeth as it is in Windsor. And here we are, having Waltzed to the forest. Tell me, have you explored this – new world – to any extent?’
Luis shrugged. ‘What for? There’s nobody here.’
‘No profit to be had, eh?’
‘England’s my world, sir. London.’
‘And wherever you cross over, do you always find the forest?’
‘Only ever tried it in London, and Kent, where I grew up. Yes, forest.’
‘And the deiseal side?’
‘The same.’
‘Well, the forest is the thing, everywhere you go, in England at any rate. Some of my own ancestors – for the trait has been passed down the generations, and preserved in family legend, though not written down since one distant aunt was burned as a witch – some of ’em called themselves woodsmen, you know. One of ’em ran with Robin Hood. No wonder the Sheriff of Nottingham could never catch those outlaws.’
Luis snorted. ‘Hood’s a figure from story. A ballad.’
‘If you say so. But tell me – if you do cross further, what then?’
That confused Luis. ‘Don’t know what you mean, sir.’
Hackett goggled at him. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you? You’ve grown up able to take this first spin of the Waltz, but it has never occurred to you to take the second, or a third? To dance on, into yet another world, and another?’
Luis frowned. No, it had never occurred to him to try. ‘To what end?’
Hackett shook his head. ‘So you have no curiosity at all, not a grain of the explorer – why, Captain Cook must be turning in his grave to hear it. I did wonder if the stage name you chose reflects your true character. Elusivo, from elusive, or to elude – it comes from a Latin root meaning to play, you know.’
‘Does it? Wasn’t aware.’
‘Sums you up, though, doesn’t it?’
‘Well, what of it? What is one to do with such a gift as this but to keep it hidden – to make a little profit – to play, if you like?’
‘Oh, what an unimaginative chap you are, Valienté. I myself thought that way, as a boy, but grew out of it. And as I’ve been implying, many of my ancestors had better ideas. How about a spot of burglary? Or spying, or assassination, or …’ Hackett stepped up to him boldly, all traces of his nausea gone. ‘How about serving your country?’
An alarm like the whistle of a steam train went off in Luis’s head. He extemporised. ‘I’ve no idea what you mean.’
‘Of course you haven’t. Let me explain. But first – how about those oysters? Let’s pop back and eat.’
The food at the oyster-house was indeed very fine, and Luis would have been happy to play along with shadier characters than Hackett for the benefit of a free meal.
Eating with a fellow always built up a certain degree of trust, Luis had observed before – especially if said fellow was doing the buying. They spoke of little as they ate, and by the time the empty shells had been stacked up and another round called for, they were, in a curious way, allies. Not friends exactly, but with a bond. Allies, each knowing that the other could disappear at any time, but each consoled by the fact that so could he.
Luis took a mouthful of porter and asked, ‘So – the Waltzers. How many of us?’
‘I know of fifteen,’ said Hackett. ‘Extant, that is, and then there are the records from the past, fragmentary as they necessarily are even within my own family, and fading into legend and outright spoofery the further back you look. We are rare, we Waltzers, Luis, as rare as a two-headed calf, and generally about as welcome. And often, I suspect, we don’t breed true, so the talent must pop up and vanish again with the secret going to the grave with the bearer. Even so I assume there are many more in the world. Recently I found two in Margate, in the course of a brief holiday.’
‘May I ask, a holiday from what, sir? I think I know all the escapologists and similar showmen in the city and I don’t recognize you.’