He would have, of course, preferred to take the meeting at one of the clubs, or even a restaurant in London. There was something Aldous found so crass, so forced about the casino—and Irvingly as a whole, if he was honest—and so the wizard had until now been successful in his efforts to avoid it. The Dutchman, though, had been quite keen to see the little mixed community, and as he would be paying for lunch and this was a business meeting, Aldous had not been in any position to debate the matter.

Fabricating an excuse had seemed rather childish an option to the wizard, and so he now sat stiffly at one of the casino’s dining tables, his brandy all but untouched and his cane resting up against the table’s edge, altogether alone as his companion had gone to relieve himself (that he knew the nature of his companion’s absence was, likewise, something he found distasteful).

The meeting had, at the very least, been fruitful. It was the Dutchman’s intent to establish magical berths in England for his steamships, which would in turn increase the shipping potential of local businesses—and tax revenues for the Ministry. It was far from a done deal, but it was a deal that Aldous would be happy to facilitate, for all that he found the man’s company onerous.

Still, it was preferable to the bowl of soup that landed in his lap, sending the wizard sprawling towards the floor in an altogether undignified fashion.

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