Chapter Twenty-Two
Neo-Pythagorean Compound, Salem, 13 March 1871
When Patrick awoke, he found a soft blanket under his hands rather than burlap, and a pinch told him he lay upon feathers rather than straw. He sat, rubbing his beard, and found himself in a bedroom with blue-patterned wallpaper, curtains of some plush material, and a large mahogany bedstead. Tan brick made up a mantle and fireplace that housed a merry little blaze that had been going for a while if the temperature of the room was any indication. The whole place appeared masculine, but he noted the lack of curtain pulls, fire-stoking tools, and any implements on the dressing table that could be used as weapons.
Even worse, he found his braces and shoes gone.
And how do they expect me to hold up my trousers, then?
He rol
