As we made our way back to the factories surrounding the academy, Patricia explained the situation more in depth. “Benjamin did well when he was researching the various parts, even better than I did. Turns out he has a bit more specific knowledge about the machining process for the pieces. Probably some lecture he overheard somewhere.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it turns out that a few markings left on the metal indicated a particular combination of machines. There were three specific types the target factory needed to have to match up; a Bennington Correlator, a Tyrenson Compressor and a Wurthers Iron Softener.”
I blinked. “Were these pieces of equipment so rare that only one factory had them?”
She shook her head. “No, lots of factories have these machines. We discovered that as we went back through the ordering records Benjamin found. The thing of it is, only five of them have all three at once.”
My heart sank slightly. “So there are five possible locations, then.”
“Not precisely.” Patricia gave me a sly look. “Francis mentioned the research you had been doing with the oils, and Benjamin dug through your notes until he found the one you matched to the marks at the scene. When he compared the list you made to the ones that had the machinery, there was only one match.” She gestured, and I looked ahead to find that we had nearly arrived at a factory of considerable size.
“The Roarington Ironworks Foundry.” I nodded slowly. “So we are reasonably sure Daniel is there?”
“Better than even odds. Where else would they stash him if they’ve already got a whole factory to hide in?” She unlimbered her carbine and checked it quickly. “The machinery would probably mask any sounds he would make, and there are plenty of nooks and crannies to hide him in. I would even bet that the workmen were in on it, so even if he did manage to get word out to them, he’d still be stuck. It’s a perfect little lair for our vandals.”
“Indeed it is.” I considered the building carefully. Like many of the structures in the area, it was surrounded by an outer wall. It reached nearly three times the height of a man, and the top was sprinkled with a layer of broken glass that had been set into the cement. A rather crude deterrent to thieves, but in my experience, such precautions had generally been effective. Within the wall was a single, blunt building. A pair of steam stacks rose into the sky on the eastern end of the structure, while an enormous gearwork generator spun horizontally along the roof of the main building. Small towers jutted up at each corner, almost as if the workmen had set up guard towers to watch over the rest of the compound. “What exactly do they manufacture here?”
Patricia consulted a small scrap of paper which I decided must have come from Benjamin. “Weapons components for the Navy. Nothing too specialized or secretive, but an awful lot of the propellant pistons from some of the newer ships come through one of the Roarington foundries.”
“I suppose that provides the explanation for the additional security.” For a few more moments, I studied the situation, and then I turned to Patricia. “We will need to survey the building and find the best way inside. Do you care to assist me, Ms. Anderson?”
She smiled warmly. “With pleasure, Hector.”
Two hours later, we were more than sufficiently prepared for the task ahead. Having watched the patrols of the handful of guards around the compound and studied the surrounding area thoroughly, I had already come up with a plan to infiltrate the facility. We waited another hour until the shift began to change, and then approached the foundry using the flood of workers as a cover. Among the great mixture of workmen from the various factories in the area, we passed with little particular notice until we had approached the very walls of the compound.
As we drew near the gates, we broke away from the groups of workmen and entered the shadows cast by the outer wall. The afternoon had already grown quite late, and the daylight was fading to a wash of pink, orange, and red that filled the sky with fire. Against the backdrop of the descending sun, the shadows of the small pathway between the wall of the foundry and that of the next compound were deep and concealing. There was little chance that any of the workmen would notice our activities there.
Once carefully hidden away in the shadows, I began the first phase of our plan. I prepared my climbing tool and hurled it to the edge of the wall up above. It caught easily, and I gave it a solid tug to make sure it was secure. Then I motioned to Patricia, and she stepped close and put her arms about me.
I had to struggle to ignore the pure, unrivaled scandal of it. It was, of course, unheard of for a respectable couple to be so open with their affections, and were there any other way to scale the wall, I would have resorted to that method first. As there was not, however, I merely tried to contain the rush of feelings—from the outrageous situation, of course—and concentrated on our ascent. Her embrace tightened as we rose through the evening air, and despite the chill, I felt warm with embarrassment.
We reached the top of the wall, and I stopped the climbing tool short before we were dragged up onto the glass. Patricia unwrapped one arm and brought out a small, flat board we had found in the alley and flattened the shards of glass, sweeping the fragments back over us. They made a sharp crackling sound as they tumbled through the air to the cobblestones. When she had finished clearing a small area, she threw an arm over the lip of the wall and pulled herself up.
A moment later, I crouched beside her on the wall, keeping low to avoid any prying eyes from the workmen below. It was a wasted effort; even the guards who patrolled the entrance and the grounds did not spare a look for the walls above them. Working quickly, I secured the climbing tool’s grapple again and let Patricia drop down over the side. She let the tool return to me, and I descended toward her on the ground inside the compound.
Now within the walls, the greatest obstacles to us were the guards, but their barely adequate surveillance did not impede us as we crept toward the foundry. Patricia found an access door in an obscure spot that had been locked shut and directed me to it. I crouched beside it and brought out my set of lock picks. The padlock quickly fell away, and the chain slid easily through the door handle. We then entered the foundry.
Patricia insisted on leading the way, in spite of my frantic gesticulations to the contrary. She opened the door and stalked through, her carbine already up and ready to fire. I followed quickly in her wake, shutting the door behind us to conceal our point of entry. When I turned around, I found her waiting patiently for me to join her.
The reason for her hesitation became clear a moment later as I stepped up beside her. We had apparently managed to find our way into the very depths of the manufacturing area of the foundry. The scent of oil and heated metal lay heavy and acrid in the air, and scattered about the floor were places where the workmen had covered grease spills with sawdust to keep them from slipping. The grinding sound of a hundred different gearworks and pistons in motion assaulted my ears. Flashes of light backlit plumes of steam as the workmen bent to their tasks, though for the most part, the facility was dominated by gray and rust-colored walls and machinery.
Patricia paused only for a moment longer, obviously struggling to adjust to the riot of noise and movement ahead of her. Then she went forward, as fluid as a tigress in long grass. I followed, doing my best to watch for any workmen or guards unfortunate enough to obstruct our path of retreat. Thus we began our search of the foundry for our missing friend.
The chaos served our purpose well. Few of the workmen had an unoccupied moment to look around them for signs of intruders, and even those who did would have a hard time picking us out of the background. Patricia seemed to be trying to avoid notice in any case, keeping our path behind heavy equipment and staying to the shadows of the semi-lit rooms. After a few tense moments, it became clear that nothing short of a full firefight would catch the attention of the workmen, and I began to relax and observe my surroundings more closely. I had a fragile hope that I would be able to spot some signal left by Daniel that would give away his location.
In the absence of such fortuitous luck, I began to look about the place from a different perspective. What possible hiding places would appear were I a smuggler or criminal inspecting the place? At first glance, the area near the smelter seemed appealing; the light and fury of the equipment would discourage someone from getting too close. At the same time, anything I hid there would be at risk of imminent destruction, should the molten metal overflow its bounds.
The compressor seemed to be another possible place, with the many gaps between the vessels that contained the high-pressure air which gave it force. As I watched the machine compress the nascent metal into a particular shape, I realized that the heat would drive off any would-be intruders well enough. A person kept captive in that spot, however, would suffer incredibly, and unless he was moved soon, I would return to find the man dead.
Then my gaze was drawn to the northern wall, where a crude fence separated a storage area for the finished products. I watched as a crate full of equipment was hefted and stowed behind the partition. The workmen there seemed particularly inattentive and casual, as if even the stress of working with such dangerous machines had left them. If everyone treated the area with the same disregard, it was entirely possible that our missing professor was waiting there.
I reached out and tapped Patricia’s shoulder. She glanced back at me and I pointed at the storage area, hoping my message got across clearly enough. Patricia looked in the right direction, nodded, and immediately began to weave her way closer to the nearest entrance. We reached it a short while later and waited for the next pair of workmen to walk through. As they left, Patricia stepped up and stopped the fence door from swinging shut. Then she pushed it open and the both of us stepped inside.
There we found row after row of crates, containers, and bundles of steel equipment. The area was dark, with only a little light provided by a handful of lanterns with Timberton Light Fuses. They were insufficient to illuminate more than a few stark circles of the room, however; an army could very well have been hiding where the darkness gathered.
Patricia turned to me, her voice a whisper barely audible over the chaos of the machinery behind us. “Where could he be? We don’t have all day.”
“I am aware of that fact Ms. Anderson. We will find him.” I stepped to one of the crates and looked in. The wooden box was filled with straw interspersed with pieces of equipment the foundry had created. It was not a grand leap of faith to assume that the majority of the remaining crates were likewise filled with such material. One, however, could easily have been left empty to make space for a certain captive professor.
I examined the room, eliminating the locations that would have made life more difficult for Daniel’s captors. Too close to the doorway would have risked an accidental discovery by the workmen. Too far would have required the criminals to walk an excessive distance to reach their prisoner, and would leave Daniel the opportunity to work all sorts of mischief in their prolonged absence. Placing Daniel in the center of the room would also have made it possible for a workman to accidentally stumble onto their captive, and if it were a small-enough crate, might have led to Daniel being loaded onto a truck and sent to a military base by mistake.
The answer, then, lay along one of the side walls, closer to the front than to the back, likely in an area that stored the excess or unwanted production copies of the manufactured equipment. A cursory glance about the place revealed one such spot close to the western wall, and I started in that direction immediately. Patricia followed, her boots making no sound on the floor.
When we reached the spot, there were five gigantic old crates that stood nearly twice my height. The wood was weathered and worn, and the locks that held their sides closed were covered in dust. They were open at the top, and old straw poked out along with the occasional odd machine part. All were testaments to age, disuse and the slovenly waste that pervades all large facilities, and it was more than understandable why the workmen would hide these crates away in a forgotten spot.
At least, four of them looked to be such wastes. The fifth had a lock that was brand new. The metal was so fresh that it nearly shone, and from the brass setting, it seemed to have some sort of automated mechanism as well. A glance upward revealed no straw at the top, and the dust around the front of the crate was disturbed, as if it had been opened recently. As if to heighten the unusual nature of the crate, there was a lantern positioned directly over it, bathing the area in a pool of light. I smiled. “Daniel?”
A muffled shout answered me from within, and I turned to Patricia. “I told you we would find him. Now give me a moment to break through this lock, and we can be on our way before they know we have been here at all.”
Patricia eyed the lock skeptically. “I don’t think your picks are up to this one Hector.”
I bristled. “May I ask if you have a better idea, then?”
The bounty hunter looked at the lock again, and smiled. “Yeah.” With one smooth motion, she raised the carbine to her shoulder, aimed, and fired. It happened so fast that I could not react to prevent her in time. The bullet roared out of the gun and struck the lock on its upper surface with a sharp screech. It drove itself deep into the metal, puncturing the brass fixture and eventually tumbling out of the bottom of the lock a misshapen slug. When it buried itself in the wood of the crate I heard a startled sound of horror from inside, and I could almost picture Daniel staring at Patricia in astonishment along with me.
For a long moment, the sound hung in the air, and then Patricia stepped up to the lock. She raised the butt of her carbine and swung it like an axe. When it connected with the lock, the warped wreckage gave way with a grating shriek. The padlock fell to the ground, and Patricia turned a blank expression to me. “There. Now let’s get him and go.”
I spared only a heartbeat to glare at her before I pulled on the side of the crate to open it. “Ms. Anderson, next time if you would kindly warn me that you are planning on alerting the entire facility to our presence, I would…be…most….grateful!” At the last word, the crate finally swung open to reveal the interior. Daniel squinted as the light fell on him. He was bound and gagged in a simple chair, but otherwise unharmed. I drew out a small blade from a hidden pocket and went to work on the ropes restraining him. Patricia untied the gag, and then faced the opening of the crate, ready to confront whoever decided to investigate the noise.
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Daniel immediately began to speak. “Kingsley! You actually came and found me. How did you…nevermind. We have to get to Audrey. They said they would—”
“Do not worry about it, Mr. Summervale. She is safe in my apartment, watched by friends.” The young professor relaxed somewhat, though a subtle tension still filled his shoulders.
“They kept asking questions about me, about what I had learned about them. I don’t know how they knew I was looking for their equipment in the school, but they knew. When I didn’t answer, they made threats, struck me. They were going to kidnap Audrey too…” His voice trailed off as the ropes fell away from his arms. “I want them in jail. No, I want them dead, Kingsley.”
“We shall see what we can do. First, can you stand Mr. Summervale?” I watched as Daniel rose to his feet. His legs shook slightly as if he were an old man who had forgotten his cane, but he was standing. It gave me some hope that we might be able to make it out of the factory without trouble after all.
Then Patricia spoke from where she stood at the opening. “Hector, we have company coming.” I rushed to her side and found figures near the entrance to the storage room. Several of them were growling or muttering curses, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck lift as they started toward us. There was little time to waste. I turned to my friends.
“Perhaps a retreat would be in order?” They nodded, and we withdrew toward the rear of the room. I hoped we would find some exit we might use to escape and thus avoid the combat that would otherwise result. The angry murmurs which reached our ears were moving along the rows and aisles of the storage room toward Daniel’s former prison. I could only imagine the shouts of alarm the criminals would raise when they found the crate empty, and I dearly hoped never to hear them in reality.
We reached the rear of the building and discovered a small door, barred and locked. It was tucked in behind a row of stacked crates. An aisle stretched along the back of the room to our right, allowing us to see another such door on the opposite side. Unfortunately, that was not all we found.
The golem was there, standing a silent guard over the exit, with his arms folded across his chest. Patricia had her carbine trained on him in an instant. Her voice was hard when she spoke. “Rook.”
The golem inclined his head slightly. “Mustang.” His eyes moved to rest on Daniel and myself. They were hard and merciless. “I am afraid we will need to relieve you of your companions. If you leave without trouble, I may allow you to retreat without harm.”
Her carbine did not waver in the slightest. “I’ve got a better idea. You and your goons back off, and I don’t fill your clay hide with a bunch of holes. Sound good?”
Rook shook his head ponderously. “No, it does not. My employer wishes these men to tell him what they have seen, and I cannot disappoint him.” He spread his feet and fell into a fighting crouch. “You will understand that I cannot afford to be gentle.”
Shouts behind us alerted me to the fact that Daniel’s escape had been discovered by more than just the golem. It would not be long before we were up to our ears in criminals. We needed a quick route to freedom, and as the door before us was locked and guarded, we needed time to find a new one. I quietly drew out the canister Patricia had removed from the immobilizer and readied my pistol. Then I smiled. “Rook, is it? A commotion here may become an inconvenience to you and yours. Are you sure you would rather not come to some sort of agreement? A truce, if you will?”
The golem laughed, a harsh sound that reminded me of boulders smashing together in rhythm. “No, little spy, my master would not condone such a thing. In his eyes, compromise is for the weak and insecure. Here, we are the strong.” He spread his arms as if to emphasize his point.
I shrugged. “Very well, then.” With that, I brought my pistol up and fired directly into the golem’s face. While not nearly as strong as the Wilkers pistol in my apartment, the airgun managed to force the Changling to flinch. I shoved Daniel down the aisle at our right and fired again. “Go! Make for the door!”
Patricia joined in the shooting, firing a trio of shots into the crates next to the golem. The bottommost of those crates crumpled as the wood splintered and its frame was no longer able to support its fellows above it. With a sickening lurch, the entire pile shifted in an avalanche of straw, wood, and shaped metal. The golem roared as he was trapped, and he thrashed at his temporary prison in terrible rage.
Neither I nor Patricia needed any further encouragement to leave the premises. I chased after Daniel and found that another group of Changlings, led by the undine, had blocked the other exit. As they charged, Daniel turned back towards the front and broke into a staggering sprint. I fired a shot at the approaching criminals, and they ducked back behind a rack. Patricia continued to encourage them with a few well-placed shots of her own before she was forced to reload, running as she did so. We turned and caught up to Daniel after a few moments, with a few hasty shots from the criminals behind us to speed our flight.
Knowing our luck could not hold, I hurled the canister behind us in the hopes that the pursuers would be slowed by the sedative’s effects. It crashed onto the stone floor and a puddle of glistening fluid spread across the ground. Then a shot from the undine glanced across a nearby lamp, knocking it from its perch. The device crashed quite near the newly formed puddle of sedative, sending up a shower of sparks.
It was a heartbeat later that I discovered the chemical sedative was very, very flammable.
A spectacular fireball bloomed from the floor, brushing the crates on either side as it rose. The puddle of sedative burned merrily as the fire spread, taking hold of the wooden crates and the straw within them. Fire began to leap from crate to crate, and the blaze spread as if spurred onward by demons. It seemed all of an instant had passed, and half the row was in flames. Our pursuers, understandably, stopped short of the fire, with the undine futilely trying to stop the blaze with a jet of water.
Such an obstacle could hardly have stopped Rook, however. Freed of his prison, he charged through the flame and smoke as if they were nothing. He rose up from the flames as a demon from Hades itself; his hard face was still a mask of rage as he gave chase. Behind him, the others had given up their pursuit along that corridor, and were now spreading out to use other avenues to reach us.
At a full run, we reached the nearest gate to the outside. I barely paused to tear the door open, but it was enough to let Daniel and Patricia through first. A glance back told me that every criminal who could walk, fly, or slither was rushing after us. Fire backlit their forms, turning them to terrible silhouettes, as if they were nightmares and not mere criminals. Unwilling to face such a horde on my own, I turned and made my escape. Of course, as any gentleman would, I made sure to close the gate behind me tightly as I left.
The foundry was in chaos. If the passage of criminals among them had not already caused a commotion, the fire in the storage room and the shouts and screams of Rook’s men had created one now. Workmen scrambled to reach exits, to shut down machines, or to retrieve firefighting equipment. Cries for help filled the air, along with the sudden ringing of alarm bells. Machinery struggled and ground to a halt even as flames grew in the room full of straw and crates. In at least one section, I saw the fire leaping to catch a pool of oil and sawdust, spreading the danger to the rest of the factory. I caught sight as well of a carelessly abandoned wooden pallet near the compressor, and the risk of a terrible explosion impressed itself on my mind. If the compressor’s air vessels caught fire, the entire foundry could be torn apart in the blast.
The workmen seemed to sense the impending inferno as well, and we quickly made our way toward the exit from which we had come. As we ran, I heard a familiar bellow as Rook reached the barred door. A disquieting smashing sound quickly followed, likely the last resistance of the metal portal to the golem’s passage. Even with the fire, the criminals’ focus on us had not changed. Pistol shots soon joined the havoc of sounds, with near misses ricocheting off nearby machinery.
All throughout our retreat, Patricia never stopped covering our flight. She had taken the opportunity provided by our brief respite from the kidnappers to reload, and she now and again paused to fire at them. Once I heard the scrape of claws on metal and glanced back. I found a werewolf crouched on the edge of a now-halted gearworks, ready to spring for my throat. Then Patricia fired behind me and the Changling clutched at its left shoulder. Blood spurted between its claws, and it fell to the floor with a howl nearly choked with pain.
With the distraction caused by the growing fire and Patricia’s steady shooting, we managed to reach the doorway. Daniel went out first, his limping stride strengthening as he left the building. I was next. My climbing tool was already in my hand; I wanted to be over the wall and gone by the time anyone noticed our unusual presence and decided to ask questions. It was only when I had sent Daniel up the wall that I noticed Patricia was not directly behind me. Horrified, I turned back.
I found her standing in the doorway, her feet spread apart and her carbine pointed into the foundry. The fire inside had spread quickly across the oil and sawdust strewn floor; between the fire and the smoke, it almost looked like a portrait into the netherworld. Emerging from that fire and smoke was Rook, his clothes in tatters and little flames licking along the edges. Murder shone in his hard, glassy eyes, and he continued his plodding charge with an iron determination.
Then Patricia shot him in the chest, and the golem ground to a stop. Smoke billowed around his feet and fire gathered at his back. He shook his head and continued forward, but Patricia had already worked the action of her carbine and taken aim. A second bullet struck sparks from his forehead, and his head snapped back as if he had been hit in the face by a tire iron. Patricia fired a third shot, and the golem’s left ankle gave way. Rook fell to one knee, and it was obvious from his pained grimace that her bullets were making themselves felt, even through his thick skin.
Patricia worked the action again, and I shouted to her over the roar of the flames and the clamor of the alarm bells. “Ms. Anderson, it is time to go! We can deal with him later.”
“Not yet, Hector. Not quite yet.” A fourth shot caught Rook in the chest as he tried to regain his feet. It pushed him back into the foundry a step, and a fifth shot glanced off the side of his head and knocked him even further back. Fire was already racing along the tracks of oil at Rook’s feet, and his enraged roar reflected the pain even he must have felt at the heat inside. Patricia pulled the trigger a sixth time, and a seventh. Each shot drove the golem backwards until she fired one last time and then jumped back to pull the door shut.
Still stunned by her casual disregard for her own safety, I shouted, “Are you mad? Why were you still fighting him?”
She looped the strap for her carbine over her shoulder, and threw her arms about me. “Just wait. You’ll see soon. I heard the air already whistling—”
There was a sudden scream of metallic agony from within the foundry, and the entire building seemed to explode. What few windows had adorned the foundry walls shattered in a rain of glass and embers, while the doors slammed outward as if pushed by a giant. Flames spouted from every opening, and fire shot through the weaker portions of what had been the roof. A roar like a thousand cannon filled the air, and the shouts and cries of the nearby workmen were swallowed up completely.
For a moment, it seemed the inferno would simply keep growing and engulf the entire compound, but then the blast reached its limit. The flames melted back into a wave of intense, boiling smoke that barely showed the fury of the fire underneath. I felt air rushing back into the building to feed the blaze and knew that everyone who had not been prepared for such an explosion inside must surely be dead. Among such people I placed Rook, for although a golem’s resilience provides many things, invincibility was not one of them.
Patricia’s face was intensely satisfied, very near the point of smugness. She turned to me and raised an eyebrow. “Well, are we going up or not?” I nodded, still a bit too shocked to speak, and I activated the climbing tool. We rose into the evening air like a pair of wraiths in the smoke, and below the workmen continued to flee the raging fire while fire crews arrived, grimly determined to salvage what was left. It would not have been a good idea to stay and explain our presence there, after all.
The journey home was a remarkably pleasant one after that. With the chaos of the fire crews attempting to contain the blaze, no one bothered to restrain us as we made our way to the nearest tube station. Our smoke-stained clothing and bleary eyes were merely commonplace among the workmen who were trying to get as far as possible from the disaster. No one gave us a second glance until we left the station near my apartment.
When we returned home, we found our friends safe and hale. Francis and Benjamin had occupied little Audrey with some sort of game, and she had been distracted enough that she nearly did not notice her brother’s return. Francis, however, immediately detected the scent of the fire on our vestitures, and his sharp glance drew her attention to Daniel’s entrance. Catching sight of her, he spread his arms and smiled.
“Danny!” With a shriek of delight, Audrey melted into a stream of sparks that shot straight toward the young professor. She materialized in time to land solidly against his chest, and he nearly fell backwards into Patricia. Instead of an indignant rebuke or stern lecture, Daniel simply laughed and lifted her in his arms.
“Let me have a look at you. Have they taken good care of you, Audrey?”
She nodded seriously. “Yes, Mr. Smithridge and Mr. Rutherford have been watching over me. They were telling me all sorts of stories.” A shy glance in my direction, along with Benjamin’s wide, obscene grin and Francis’ smug expression told me exactly what the main character in those tales had been named. I gave them each an exasperated glare, but Daniel did not notice in the least.
“Well, you must tell me everything later. For now, we are going to return to the academy and begin work on the flying wing again.” In his happiness to see his sister, Daniel had apparently forgotten the reason we were all covered in soot. I cleared my throat cautiously.
“Mr. Summervale, it may be a good idea to remain here for the night. The sun has already gone down, and I would not recommend bringing your sister through the streets in your current state.” He glanced down at his ruined clothing, and realization dawned on his face. I continued in an even tone. “You and Ms. Summervale are more than welcome to use my office for your experiments, as well as a place to sleep for the night. I will fetch some bedding from upstairs to arrange things for you.”
“May I remain here for the night? The sun has already gone down.” Benjamin’s grin was so wide by now that I yearned for the opportunity to knock him from his feet, but I sighed and nodded.
“I suppose I could spare the front room for you and Francis, Benjamin.” I turned to where Francis stood watching me with far too much interest in his eyes. “Though I imagine you would like to return home to your family. I would understand completely.”
“No, no. I told Mrs. Pryor I might be out late. She and Roger have gone to stay at her mother’s while I was otherwise occupied.” I could hardly miss the tone in his voice. He might as well have promised me that I owed him severely for allowing such a situation to develop in the first place. Then he smiled, and I noted the nervous tic in his lips. “Besides, I could hardly pass up the opportunity to hear of the…experience…you and Ms. Anderson have had.”
His hand gave an unconscious, eager twitch, and a pair of sparks burnt to life. I gave a careful glance at them, and Francis took notice at once. He brushed them out of existence irritably, but the fascination in his eyes did not diminish in the least. It was clear that he did not intend to be dissuaded this time. I swallowed. “Of course, Francis. We will tell you all about it.”
“You mean, you’ll tell them all about it. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.” Patricia leaned casually against the doorframe. In spite of the victorious glow about her, the fatigue of our efforts at the foundry was plain on her face. She smiled. “I’m going to head back to my apartments, if you don’t mind. That is, unless you’ve got room for me to stay?”
The very idea shocked me, but I recovered quickly enough to give her a polite partial bow. “Ms. Anderson, I would like to thank you for your efforts on our behalf today. Without you, we could not have drawn this case to a close. Might I walk you home?”
Francis practically jumped up and down in frustration. “But, but, the fire—”
“Mr. Summervale will tell you all about it.” Benjamin’s smooth interjection, in my words, was a sudden relief. He took both Daniel and Francis’ arms and started to lead them back toward the kitchen. The mimic paused to glance back over his shoulder and smile. “You are welcome.”
I stared after my old friends in disbelief. Francis was already demanding half a dozen details about the fire at the foundry while Daniel was struggling to keep up. Audrey trailed after them, happily skipping and dancing as she went. I could only imagine what kind of mischief would be waiting for me when I returned.
Fortunately, I had other concerns to occupy me at the moment. I turned back to Patricia and nodded. “Let us go then, Ms. Anderson. I am sure they can look after themselves.” She laughed and slid an arm through mine. Since it was dark and she was weary, I decided to leave it there. In case she stumbled, of course.