“Last order of business.  The status of the premises at number four, whose previous tenant was his honor, Edward Coffin, of blessed memory.”

The nine men around the table crossed themselves slowly.

A man at the far end of the table let loose a barking cough.  ”I hardly, excuse me, hardly think it can be occupied without the most comprehensive and expensive of restorations.  The fire was quite damaging, and the subsequent flood only made matters worse.  I saw the report.  Damn shame, that.  All those cases and mechanisms.  Damn shame.”

“One would suspect it would be fairly carpeted with all manner of deadly molds and vermin and rusted perils and whatnot by now,” added one man.

“It has been quite a while,” noted another.

“It would be good to see that report again,” offered a third.

The man seated at the head of the table sighed and wiped his face with a faded blue kerchief.

“You all have a copy.  Tab eleven in your binders.”

A rustling sound filled the room as the men turned mimeographed pages, then silence descended as they all read.  The first to close his binder folded his fingers over the leather cover and nodded to the man at the head of the table.

“In light of the poor condition of the premises,” he intoned, “I move they be allowed to remain empty for another year, until such a time as a full and comprehensive assessment of…”

One of the dimpled brass pneumatic steam tubes rattled urgently overhead.  With a hiss of steam and a sudden crack a battered white bakelite capsule fell three feet from an ejector port into the receiving bowl at the head of the table.  The man seated there reached out and plucked it from the bowl before it had even ceased spinning.  The other eight men were motionless as he opened it, removed a slip of paper from it, read it, then handed the paper to he man on his left.

“The chair…objects,” he said, slowly. “I have been informed that our lady wishes the property to be occupied again.  Pursuant to part nine of the common lessee agreement, and consistent with the traditions of the Row, she has instructed me to entertain acceptable candidates.”

“…may I be so bold as to recommend…”

“…has distinguished himself in the Arcade, where for the last nine…”

“…undoubtedly she will grant me the privilege of introducing my master’s young…”

“…will do nicely…”

“…cannot seriously believe that…”

“…responsibility to uphold…”

“…a suitable heir to continue the work of our late…”

“…will be my privilege to…”

“Gentlemen, GENTLEMEN.”

With a rattle a second capsule fell steaming into the receiving bowl, where it spun from the force of its arrival.

“With your leave.”

The crinkle of the paper was unnaturally loud.  His lips moved as he read the note, then he folded it and placed it in his breast pocket.  He surveyed the eight men seated around him.  Eight old men in eight old black suits, with red faces and clammy hands and cold eyes.

“Our lady will be prepared to receive candidates from her tenant’s agents following the next meeting of this body.   She requests that they be presented in a manner consistent with the traditions of the Row and in keeping with the conventions described in part nine of the common lessee agreement.  That is all for today.  I thank you all.”

The eight men shuffled to their feet.  Bent over to avoid striking the pneumatic pipes overhead, they filed out of the low-ceilinged room through its sole door to begin the long climb up the narrow and perilously steep switchbacked staircase to the street.

The man at the head of the table waited for the agents to leave before loosening the silk cravat around his neck.  Then he removed the message paper from his breast pocket and smoothed it out on the table in front of him.  He made a few notes at the bottom of it with a black fountain pen and initialed it with a few lazy scratches.

He loaded the capsule, opened a small round hatch at the bottom of the receiving bowl, and fed the capsule into it.  With a twist of a small knob and a percussive blast of steam it was gone, rattling overhead for a brief moment before it plunged into the heart of the Row to its final destination.

She was not going to enjoy this, he thought.  Hunched over he side-stepped to the door and twisted the light switch off.