I was almost grateful when the door to the interview chamber opened and Louis walked out. The sullen silence between Patricia and Moses had been almost palpable, but with the prospect of French listeners there wasn’t much either of them could say to one another aside from the occasional terse comment. Being stranded between two frustrated, feuding siblings and listening to their attempts to verbally snipe each other was rather exhausting, even if I did find it amusing that Moses could get under her skin that easily.
My gratitude at Louis’ arrival evaporated rather quickly when I saw the smile on his face. He was carrying my sword again; my fingers twitched as soon as I saw it. As if he had noticed my reaction, he shrugged. “Herr Baron, I had not expected to see you again quite so soon! After all, typically someone who causes trouble under my command tends to wait a while before committing another offense.”
Moses muttered something under his breath, but I ignored him and responded in what I hoped was a cool tone. “You are mistaken, Lieutenant. We are the victims here, much as we were before.”
Louis raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? It is rare for me to find two of my soldiers unconscious with armed men standing over them, and not find that some sort of mischief has been committed. You understand my reluctance to take you at your word, yes?”
“They didn’t use those weapons on anything but the door, and you know it.” Patricia sounded almost offended that he had assigned credit for the guards’ battering to someone else. Louis fixed her with an amused look.
“Yes, I am aware. Though I do not find my suspicions lessened by learning that an American heiress was supposedly the one who subdued them. Might I ask where you acquired such formidable skills?”
Patricia blinked, her indignation fleeing her face. She glanced at me. “My father’s bodyguards—”
“Must have been very dedicated to your survival, to have given you such… extensive…combat training.” Louis’ expression made it clear exactly how much he believed that excuse, and he paused as if to let Patricia supply an alternative explanation. She simply sat back and closed her mouth. Then he shrugged again. “Though perhaps my men have grown a bit too lax in their own discipline. There is little expectation for most embassy personnel that they would face combat in a meat locker.”
“Speaking of which, maybe you should have a conversation with those guards.” Moses folded his arms, examining Louis with a critical eye. “You might want to ask them why they decided to attack a guest of your embassy. An American one, no less.”
“Ah yes, the distinguished Mr. Anderson.” Louis bowed slightly to him before moving to take his own seat across from us. “I had our staff check your credentials, and they do appear to be legitimate. May I ask what a Marshall is investigating onboard our fair embassy?”
Moses did not even glance at us. “I was following a lead on a gang of criminals. Baron Krongesetz had promised me assistance.”
“Is that so?” Louis turned his attention back to me, eyebrow raised.
“It is.” I tried to ignore the sharp pain in my leg as Patricia kicked me under the table. Maintaining this farce would be hard enough. “He apparently felt that Vinceno was part of the same gang, and had approached me for help when I determined my fiancée had gone missing. My apologies for the door, but I felt it was better to act quickly.”
He watched me a moment longer, his eyes curiously intent. “Yes, but of course.” Then he looked back to Moses, his expression growing severe. “Mr. Anderson, while I do appreciate your fervor for duty, it is not the policy of Imperial France to allow foreign agents to investigate crimes committed inside one of our embassies without our explicit permission. That message, with an appropriate level of detail, has already been sent to your government; next time you feel the need to visit, I would hope you would do us the courtesy of informing us beforehand. Am I understood?”
Moses nodded slowly. Though his expression did not show it, I imagined he was thinking over the trouble that would undoubtedly be waiting for him when he returned to his home. There are few things more ubiquitous than a diplomat willing to throw someone’s career to the wolves for the sake of achieving an agreement; I could only hope that his case would not be placed in the hands of one such creature.
Then Louis turned back to me, his face still rather grim. “I am also rather disappointed in you, Herr Baron. I had asked you to stay out of trouble, and not four hours later I find you enmeshed in yet more intrigue. It does not improve my confidence in your word of honor if that is the best that you could do.”
My eyes narrowed, and I responded through gritted teeth. “If you expected me to—”
“Now, now, I would hardly have expected you to leave her trapped, but I would have hoped that you would have sent a message to warn me. Continuing to leave me out of the fun is rather rude, even by your standards, is it not?” He considered me for another moment. “A less generous man might suspect that you think I am somehow involved in this criminal conspiracy as well.”
I met his eyes levelly. “I do not suspect you of anything so deceptive, Lieutenant Desicilia.” He nodded slowly, a quirk of his lips acknowledging the hit, and I continued. “The same cannot be said of the rest of the staff of the embassy. Vinceno was a member of the maintenance crews, and the two men who assaulted Ms. Bingham were also your men. Unless you are saying they were ordered to do so?”
Louis paused for a moment, and I felt a surge of satisfaction as he shook his head. “No, they did not. In fact, I had asked most of the embassy staff to either avoid pestering you, or if you raised complaints, to bring you to me. My orders were somewhat…forceful, and had Capitaine Chatelain not been present to provide an unbiased account, I might have doubted your word on how this event proceeded.”
He stopped, and then he gave a bark of laughter. “Though he was rather discreet when it came time to discuss the new decoration on his face. May I assume that was you again, Baron?”
I glanced at Patricia, who gave me an insolent shrug. “If the Capitaine says it was.”
Louis looked from me to Patricia and back. “I see.” He shook his head, his face incredulous. “I swear, Herr Baron, I almost suspect you of being some sort of Changeling, one somehow attracted to trouble and mischief.”
Blinking in surprise, I frowned. “I think you’ll find that the Distillation has no such effect on me, Lieutenant. I am what I am.”
“Is that so?” Louis’ voice grew frustratingly interested, as if he’d found some new puzzle to unlock. “How could you ever be sure if you are not exposed to it for long?”
“I already had such an experience. The crystal produced no change in me.” Patricia stirred beside me, but I kept my eyes on Louis.
To my surprise, he seemed more doubtful of that than of Patricia’s excuses. “I understand that such a thing is impossible, Herr Baron. While the Changes are rarely consistent, they always happen.” Then he smiled. “It would explain quite a bit of the last few days, would it not?”
I favored him with something approaching a smile and then shrugged uncomfortably. “Perhaps. I have never heard of such a thing.”
“Nor have I, but I have been informed through some rather convincing—and unexpected—correspondence that more varieties of Changelings might exist than we expected, only hidden by the circumstances of their lives. How would we identify a pixie, for example, if there were no walls to pass through?”
Then he waved his hand dismissively, as if rebuking himself for his distraction. “It is an interesting thought, but surely not something you care for at the moment.” His expression grew far more serious, almost forbiddingly grim. “I am afraid that you may have been right about the soldiers in the locker, however. When they were questioned, they refused to say what they were doing and why they had tried to detain Ms. Bingham. What’s more, it was discovered that both of them had been brought aboard rather recently, with orders we have begun to suspect were forged. We are attempting to find out the truth of the matter now.”
I began to feel a flicker of hope. “So you are saying these men should not have been on board?”
“We have reason to question whether they are legitimate, yes.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Though even if they are not, you should still have alerted us to their presence rather than trying to subdue them yourselves.”
Moses snorted. “And risk alerting someone else further up who helped get them here? Not a great plan, Lieutenant.”
“Still better than getting yourselves in a fight with our garrison and being mistaken for assassins of some sort.” Louis had kept his eyes on me, and his stare was becoming rather unsettling. “Wouldn’t you agree, Herr Baron?”
I met his gaze coolly and considered my answer. While under normal circumstances, I would have heartily agreed, it was hardly an ideal situation. While Louis had been rather helpful, I still could not enlist his help without making the discovery of our ruse that much more probable. Nonetheless, those were circumstances I could hardly explain to him. So instead, I nodded slowly, as if coming to a reluctant conclusion. “Your concerns for our safety are noted, Lieutenant. We will strive to act with more forethought in the future.”
“Splendid.” He grinned widely, which was not exactly a good sign. “In return, we must guarantee your safety, of course. It would hardly do us any honor if we rebuked you in such a manner and then allowed you to come to harm—especially you, Ms. Bingham.”
Patricia managed—barely—to avoid grimacing. Being locked in a frigid meat locker had apparently robbed her of some portion of her ability to act convincingly. “How chivalrous of you, Lieutenant.”
The Frenchman tilted his head to the side, his expression abruptly blank. “Indeed.” Then he shook himself and turned back to me. “It has been decided that you shall have an escort whenever available. Capitaine Chatelain has volunteered to stay with you, Herr Baron. Ms. Bingham, in addition to your servant, Mr. Anderson will be allowed to accompany you in public. If, of course, he wishes to stay onboard; if not, he will be returned to London immediately.”
Patricia nearly launched into an automatic protest, but I placed a hand on her arm and stopped her. The two Anderson siblings exchanged a sharp look, and then Moses nodded. He looked as if he had stolen his sister’s share of a cake. “I suppose I can see my way through to do that, Lieutenant. It is a very generous offer.”
“Your gun shall have to be confiscated, of course.” Moses’ satisfied expression vanished instantly, and Patricia openly smirked in his direction. “We can’t have armed foreign parties wandering the airship, especially armed as you were. Pistols can go off at such inopportune times, can they not?”
Though he looked as if he had been forced to swallow a pint of liver oil, Moses nodded again. “I suppose that is true enough.”
“Your weapons shall be returned to you once you disembark. Any more poor behavior from either of you, however, will result in both Ms. Bingham and Mr. Anderson being sent to London right away.” Then Louis returned his gaze to me, and I felt an uncomfortable weight as he toyed with Damocles’ scabbard. “As for you, Herr Baron…”
His voice trailed off, and I was forced to endure a longer pause as he considered me. It seemed as if he was debating a course of action with himself. The hesitation was unlike him, and rather surprising for me. In his situation, I would not have felt any remorse for confiscating the blade, especially after such repeated provocation. Such a decision would be disastrous for us, however. With Moses disarmed, we would have no protection left without the sword, a fact that would certainly turn against us if Devonshire moved before we were ready.
Such considerations appeared to be unknown to the man, but Louis still appeared to need time to mull things over. As such, I merely met his eyes and waited, forcing my hands to remain still rather than clenching in frustration at not being able to close around my sword.
After a time that nearly seemed an eternity, Louis broke off his examination, making as if he needed to brush some dust from the shoulder of his uniform. “I believe I shall return this to you after all, Herr Baron. Do not make me regret it.”
Victory and surprise spiraled through me in a wave of unmitigated triumph. It was hard not to rocket to my feet and snatch the weapon from his hands. “I will not, Lieutenant. I promise.”
“So you have already said.” He sighed heavily and glanced at the door. “I am afraid that you have all missed the ball that was planned to celebrate the arrival of Queen Victoria and her party. It was most unfortunate that you could not join us, as I believe some of them were looking forward to meeting you.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
It must have been Aberforth, having joined the envoys in secret. Perhaps we had another ally after all. “That is most unfortunate indeed, Lieutenant.”
Louis looked back to me and abruptly held Damocles out in a surprisingly petulant motion. When I reached to take it, his hand remained closed around the scabbard. “Baron, do not mistake this as an endorsement of your activities. Mostly, as the talks have been proceeding so very well, I do not wish to disrupt them by insulting someone so thoroughly attached to our distinguished guests.”
Then he leaned close, and his voice became very quiet. “You should still know my warning remains. If you get anywhere near to my Emperor, I will have you shot immediately. Do not doubt me, and do not endanger our fragile peace for the sake of some foolish adventure. Do you understand?”
I could see nothing but utter sincerity in his eyes now. “I do.”
The moment I said the word, he released the scabbard and stepped back. It appeared he immediately had better places to be. “Excellent! Now, Capitaine Chatelain will escort you to your new chambers. You will note he has been stationed right where you are, so there will be little chance of you accidentally missing him.” A hint of true humor glinted in his eyes as he waved us to the door. “I will have food sent to your rooms. Until then, my friends, good night.”
What followed was the world’s most forlorn exodus. Chatelain was leading us once again, though he seemed far too happy that Patricia had joined us. Perhaps the memory of her responses had already faded, but it did my heart much good to see that the bruise around his eye had only grown more vivid. Moses marched along with an angry stride I half recognized from Patricia, muttering something under his breath about having his guns stolen.
Meanwhile, I walked along with one arm intertwined with Patricias, and the other half-supported by the hilt of my sword. Curiously, despite our increased restrictions, I had begun feeling rather triumphant. Patricia must have noticed, for she leaned close enough to whisper. “What exactly has you smiling so much?”
“Besides yourself, dear one?” She elbowed me sharply in the side, and I chuckled. “I have no reasons not to be happy, Patricia. We have uncovered at the very least several portions of Devonshire’s plans, and he cannot be happy to have lost yet another two conspirators. Aberforth must be onboard; he had to have interceded for us to help our investigation along. Further, your dear brother no longer seems intent on kidnapping you and running off to jail with the both of us—and even if he did, he no longer has a gun to do so.”
Moses had to have overhead us, because he muttered a particularly foul oath and kicked at a nearby wall. Capitaine Chatelain glanced backwards, but a glare from the American Marshall convinced him that his attention was better focused up front.
Patricia snorted softly to herself. “Well, I think someone is just happy to have his sword back. How does it feel to be the only one here still armed?”
“I will not deny that it gives me a certain amount of satisfaction.” She gave me a fulminating glare, but I only shrugged. “Yet I must admit that mostly I am happy that I was…able to be of assistance to you.”
Then I looked at her more closely. “But I must ask you to not go running off again. When I cut open that vault, I had no idea what to expect. If you’d been hurt, or worse…”
I trailed off, knowing that the memories of our encounter with the Dollmaker were flooding back for both of us. The prospect of a return to that unhappy event appeared to have sobered Patricia somewhat, and she unconsciously seemed to favor the side where the Dollmaker had stabbed her. Then she shrugged, and her usual demeanor returned. “You found me, and that is what is important. You can’t ask me to just stay inside all day and not take risks, Hector.”
Capitaine Chatelain glanced back, and I gave him a quick glare to remind him that his attention was not necessary. “That’s not what I am asking, my dear. Taking risks comes with the mission, but we can confront such things together, not alone.”
“That wasn’t what you did, though. You went off to the duel without me.”
I hesitated and then inclined my head in surrender. “Then I apologize. I suppose I just assumed you would be uninterested in some highborn foolishness.”
“Well, next time you’ll know better.” She nudged me gently before muttering to herself. “As if I would want to miss seeing you fight…”
I was about to inquire what she meant when a messenger ran up to Capitaine Chatelain. They were horribly out of breath, but evidently carrying some message for our escort. The two Frenchmen exchanged words, with the Capitaine showing a surprising amount of alarm and confusion. My own curiosity grew as I watched; his consternation was far too delicious to ignore completely, of course, and it was hardly a private location.
When the messenger once again sped off through the corridors, the Capitaine turned back to us, subconsciously adjusting his uniform. “We have been asked to remain here a moment. It appears there is someone who did not want to miss you.”
Aberforth. It had to be him; the first thing the watchman would do was get into contact with us, in an attempt to find out what we knew. I looked down the corridor in the direction that the messenger had gone, expecting to see the familiar watchman come striding down towards us.
Instead, I was surprised to find an entire squad of Royal Guardsmen, all of whom were scanning the corridor as if it were a marsh full of spies and assassins. They were no less careful with us; the instant that they identified my sword, at least one of them stopped still and prepared his rifle, while another stepped up rather close to the only other armed man in view, Capitaine Chatelain.
Before I could realize it, we were had been placed under guard by the most disciplined and dangerous soldiers in the British Empire. There was a moment’s expectant pause, as if the soldiers were waiting for another group to round the corner to meet us. With growing shock, I realized exactly who was about to visit us, but before I could warn Patricia, Prince Albert, Consort to the British throne, appeared. He was flanked by two more of the Royal Guard, and Coronel Soares stalked along in his wake.
I had seen the Prince Consort before, of course; many denizens of London had, at least from a distance. It was somewhat different to see him in person; his stiff German bearing and disciplined manner made a mockery of my fragile imitation. He walked up to us with a dignified gait, and to my infinite shock, approached me directly.
My bow was so swift and automatic that I was sure I would forget my training under Lady Charlotte. Fortunately, some aspect of her work must have survived the initial surprise, because I executed the maneuver with all the false German dignity I could muster. “Your Highness, it is an honor.”
He inclined his head, his eyes filling with undisguised interest and amusement. It was difficult for me to tell what was so humorous about the matter; had he already seen through our deception? “The pleasure is mine, Baron Krongesetz. Wie ist es dir gegangen?”
I felt Patricia freeze beside me, but I remained calm. Despite myself, I hoped to make some awkward response, and felt untrammeled shock at what came out of my mouth. “Mir geht es gut, danke.”
There was an awkward pause as Albert’s eyebrows shot up, as if he had been taken by surprise somehow, and I felt a ribbon of panic run through me. What was happening? Carried more by momentum than anything else, I turned and gestured to Patricia. “Das ist meine Verlobte.” I coughed and hoped I could force myself to return to my mother tongue. “M-my dear, this is the Prince Consort.”
She recovered smoothly, though surely she was as shocked as anyone else. “Ms. Amy Bingham, sir. Please forgive my husband-to-be. He often forgets that I am not fluent in his mother tongue.” Patricia punctuated the statement with a sharp look at me, but she continued with admirable lack of intimidation. “It is only one of the bad habits I intend to break him of before we are married.”
Albert raised his eyebrows, and a curiously amused spark appeared in his eyes. If it were anyone else, I would have almost called it smugness. “Is that so, my dear? You might find that such…habits…are rather difficult to remove.”
“Anything is possible with the right motivation…and the right means.” Patricia met the Consort’s eyes with an almost rude frankness, and I realized with some consternation that her face looked very much like she was lining up her rifle on a deserving target. “It’s something I am bound and determined to do, I am afraid.”
The Consort met her gaze a moment longer, and then he smiled. “I wish you luck, then, Ms. Bingham. Your journey might not be an easy one.”
Anxiety and confusion swirled within me as I looked back and forth between the two. I could not, for the life of me, imagine a reason why they seemed to be at such odds, especially considering the difference in station and circumstance, but I increasingly felt it wise to intervene. “Hopefully, I am not so terrible a fiancée as that, my dear.” Prince Albert laughed softly, although Patricia barely deigned to break her eye contact with the man. What was wrong with her? “Your Highness, might I ask if there is anything I could do for you? Surely you have many more important concerns.”
Albert looked back to me, his gaze disconcertingly direct. Then he glanced at his sleeve, as if someone had laid a hand on his arm. He sighed and shook his head. “No, good Baron, I do not. I only wished to meet you again, as I have not been able to visit your fief for some time now. It was good to hear that your line had been restored to its proper place.”
“Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness.” I bowed again. The realization that the real baron owed him fealty was not quite a welcome one; why hadn’t Aberforth chosen a less conspicuous place for my disguise? “Please forgive me for my surprise. I was only expecting someone else.”
“Oh? Might I inquire who you might have been looking for?”
The question was perfectly reasonable, but I would have found some way to deflect it if I could. Yet before I could think of a way to do so, I found myself answering. “A watchman named Aberforth, Harold Aberforth. I was hoping for his help with my work.”
A sudden burst of emotion clouded Albert’s expression, but he resumed a disciplined neutrality so quickly I almost doubted it had ever been disturbed. “I am familiar with Mr. Aberforth, and so must bring you sad news.”
“Sad news?” I suddenly felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Has something happened to the man?”
“Mr. Aberforth was waylaid by unknown assailants last night, just before our departure to come here.” Albert studied my reaction, but I managed to keep myself composed. “He survived, but remains unconscious in a hospital in London.”
“Then I shall need to visit him once our time here is over.” I exchanged a quick look with Patricia and saw the same grim realization on her face. The watchman had overplayed his hand, and his investigations had nearly killed him. It was another reminder that Devonshire did not play this game casually, and that the consequences for failure would be unhealthy for anyone involved.
Albert watched our exchange without commentary or reaction and then nodded to himself. “I am sure he would appreciate the visit. Please enjoy your stay, Baron Krongesetz, and be sure to take care of any trouble that might arise.”
I felt those words as if they held the force of a direct order. My back straightened, and I placed a hand to my heart and bowed, all without so much of a conscious thought. “Ich werde, deine Gnade.”
A flicker of amusement twisted Albert’s lips, and then he acknowledged me with a simple inclination of his head. I stayed bowed as he made his way further along the corridor, passing our group by without further discussion. For some reason, I almost felt as if I had been weakened by his departure, but I forced myself to hold position until his footsteps had receded. The Royal Bodyguard also disappeared after him, but I hardly noticed.
When I finally straightened, Patricia touched my arm. I saw concern in her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I felt far from well at the moment, but I could not let her see the confusion whirling through my mind. It would only worsen things, and we had far too much to do. “Only a passing feeling, my dear. I will be better soon.”
“I certainly hope so.” Coronel Soares examined me with ill-disguised amusement. “I’ll admit you surprised me, little spy. I expected you to not know enough German to talk, but he seemed to be fooled.”
“I am glad I can still surprise you, Coronel.” How had I spoken so fluently? The only German I knew was a scattering of phrases that I had half-heard while concentrating on other conversations. I wasn’t Benjamin, and the concept of learning an entire language that way seemed ridiculous.
Yet despite that, I somehow felt that if called upon to do so, I could have spoken with the Prince in his native tongue for hours. My mind clouded with still more uncertainty, but I shook it aside to focus on the Changeling in front of me. “May I ask what brings you here, Coronel? Have you come to see what other trouble I’ve gotten myself into?”
“Well, that, of course.” Soares gave another of her birdlike laughs. “I wouldn’t deny wanting to speak with Ms. Bingham as well, though. You’re starting to attract attention too, knocking out two mercenaries in a freezer. Not bad for a spoiled heiress with a bad taste in guns.”
Patricia rolled her eyes and seemed to take the comment in good humor. “Says the barbarian with a pistol fascination. No proper gunman would stick to those things.”
“Says you.” Moses tugged on the brim of his hat, and then stepped forward to extend his hand to the Coronel. “Moses Anderson, United States Marshall. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.” She shook his hand, and then nodded with cool formality to Capitaine Chatelain, who had been observing the entire proceeding with distant interest. I desperately hoped that he had not taken the Coronel’s jokes as a serious accusation of espionage, but there was hardly anything more damning that he could report to Louis now.
Then she returned her gaze to me. “So this is the sword you were talking about. Hardly as impressive as my Falcao, but that’s to be expected of a spy and not a soldier.” She waved at me impatiently. “Come now, let’s have a look.”
Hesitantly, and more than a little disoriented due to yet another close brush with royalty, I handed Damocles over. Soares grunted as she examined it, even drawing it momentarily to catch sight of the edge. “A proper butcher’s knife, but one that will cut well.” She winked at Chatelain as she slid it back into the sheath. “You should be grateful he faced you in the air, Capitaine, and not with a blade. He’d have cut you to pieces.”
Chatelain’s expression darkened, but Patricia spoke up before he could. “Coronel, I hope you aren’t trying to get him in more trouble with our guests. They’ve only just permitted me to remain armed, even if they did threaten to shoot him.”
Soares blinked, switching her stare back to me in apparent surprise. “Shoot you? What on earth do you mean?”
I grimaced and gave Patricia a glare. “Apparently my behavior has been untrustworthy enough that I have been told not to get close to the Emperor. That is all my dear fiancée was trying to say.”
She blinked in surprise again and looked at Chatelain for confirmation. When the Frenchman shrugged, she looked back at me. “So what does that mean? Are they banning you from the ballroom now? I would think that they would want a troublemaker like you out in the open.”
“No. I am still permitted in the room, but if I ever get within twenty yards, the guards have been ordered to remove me as a threat.” I waved a hand in dismissal. “They may not be serious, given how important this event is, but I don’t think I will try my luck. Anyway, I suppose they must have told you something similar, given your history with the man.”
Soares was staring at me—or rather, she was staring through me, as if she had forgotten anyone else was in the corridor. She stayed that way for a heartbeat more and then shook herself roughly. “No, I’m afraid they haven’t. How curious.”
Abruptly, she glanced in the direction that His Royal Highness had taken, and handed back Damocles with a rushed movement. “Your pardon, Herr Baron, but I have something I must look after. I’ll see you another time.”
I had barely buckled the sword back to my belt before she was off again, striding down the corridor at a speed normally only reached by carriages and horses. The rest of the group watched her go, and then Moses whistled tunelessly to himself. “Well, that was interesting.”
“Forget about it, Moses, you have no chance with her.” Patricia looked back at me and raised an eyebrow. “Shall we continue then?”
Feeling slightly more balanced now, and noting the blank expression on Chatelain’s face, I nodded. “Yes, of course.” She took my arm once again, and we continued back to our quarters. I only hoped that by the time we reached them, I would be able to find some sort of plan. Devonshire would be moving soon, I was sure of it, and if we didn’t stop him, the consequences would be terrible beyond fathoming.