FifteenFungy resisted the urge to take out his handkerchief and press it to his nose. The combined smell of liquor, smoke, and nervous men was almost too much. But he had to be here. He really did not have any choice in the matter. He supposed that this is what it smelled like to work.
This was the smell of responsibility.
It wasn’t that Fungy had never been in a gambling hell before. It was simply that he had no love of gambling, outside of the occasional rubber of whist with his friends, much preferring the overly perfumed smell of a ballroom to this.
But Lord Halsbury was expecting a preliminary report tomorrow morning on his investigation into this gambling scheme, and so far, Fungy had nothing to tell him.
Hopefully something would turn up tonight, in this foul-smelling place.
Th
