A Mud Bath
I HADN’T BEEN BACK from my trip to Charing Cross Station for more than ten minutes before a loud bloodcurdling yowl came from somewhere up on the third floor.
“Theodosia Elizabeth Throckmorton!” Father yelled. “Come and get your blasted cat! Now!”
“Uh-oh.” I hurried up the stairs.
When I reached the workroom, I found Isis attached to Father’s back like a demonic cocklebur. Father kept turning round and round trying to bop her with his cane so she would let go.
He mostly ended up beaning himself instead. Which served him right for even thinking to take a cane to my cat.
“Theodosia? Come get this cat or I will cheerfully hand her over to Henry for his mummifying experiments.”
No he wouldn’t, he was only teasing. Wasn’t he? “I’ve got her. Just hold still a minute, would you?”
Father stopped spinning around like a top and I grabbed Isis. I tried to pull her off his back, but she clung as if her claws were embedded in his skin.
Finally, after many attempts and frustrated curses by Father, I freed my poor cat. She squirmed and fought in my arms. “Sorry about that,” I said over her caterwauling.
Father just glared at me.
I could no longer put it off. Isis was getting a mud bath.
***
Unfortunately, I didn’t have any mud from the Nile River. Mud from the small square across the street would have to do. It was made from rainwater, so perhaps the purity of that would be similar enough. One could always hope.
I snuck back into the museum carrying a small bucket of the wet, juicy mud and headed toward my closet, where I’d left Isis. I could hear her low-pitched growling. I put the bucket down close to the door so it would act as a barricade when I opened it. Bending over with my left hand at the ready, I opened the door with my right.
As soon as there was enough space for her whiskers to clear the door, Isis leaped over the bucket into the hallway—straight into my waiting hand.
I’d positioned myself just right and was able to grab a handful of her fur, right behind her neck. I quickly used my other hand and gathered her into my arms, holding her close. It was a challenge trying to reassure her and avoid her needlelike claws while using my foot to scoot the bucket of mud through the doorway.
Of course, it would have been much more convenient to use the museum’s main lavatory, but I couldn’t risk one of the museum’s visitors wandering in at the wrong moment. How would I explain giving a cat a mud bath? Even I couldn’t talk my way out of that one!
I shall spare you the details of the bath. Suffice it to say, I don’t recommend it. Not unless there is no choice. What Isis didn’t realize was that if the mud bath didn’t work, it would be a waxing for her—just like that fellow at Level Six. But a hairless cat was too hideous to bear thinking about.
I opened my door a crack to see if the coast was clear, but Isis had no such qualms and burst through the door, careening down the hall. The good news was, she didn’t slash at me with her claws or give one of those terrifying yowls of hers. The bad news was—
“Theodosia?” Mum called out. “Was that your cat? Whatever is wrong with that creature?”
—the coast hadn’t been clear. “Just feeling frisky, I think.”
“Well, that’s very frisky indeed. Is that mud on your frock, dear?”
I stared down at myself in dismay. It looked like someone had tried to imitate a primitive cave painting on the front of my gown.
Mother waved her hand. “Well, never mind. We’re going home now. Just put your coat on over it so your father doesn’t see.”
I ran to get my coat, buttoning it up tight to hide my sins. I even squashed a beastly hat on my head, just to keep Father happy.
***
That night, when I was sure my parents had retired to the library, I snuck out of my room down the hall to Henry’s bedroom. I hadn’t mentioned anything to him yet about my plans for tomorrow. With Henry, it’s best not to say anything until one has all one’s ducks in a row.
I scratched lightly on his door. “Henry,” I whispered. “Can I come in?”
His door swung open and he stood in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes. “What do you want?”
“Henry, did you mean it the other day when you said you wanted to help me?”
He looked suspicious. “Maybe.”
This looked to be harder than I thought. I twisted my hands together. “Here’s the thing. I have a plan to get the Heart of Egypt back, but I need your help.”
A gleam of interest shone in his eye.
“Would you let me in so I can tell you about it?”
“Oh, all right. But what do you need my help for? You’re always telling me to mind my own business.” Henry is always sullen and cranky when he’s sleepy. I followed him back to his bed, where he crawled under the covers. I perched myself on the foot of the mattress.
“Henry, this is important. And it’s bigger than just you and me. It’s for Wigmere and Stokes and all of them.” I reminded myself that I wasn’t telling Henry anything he didn’t already know. Well, not much anyway. And certainly none of the details.
He perked up at that. He’d been going on for two days now about his heroes at Somerset House.
“I know where the Heart of Egypt is, and I have a plan to get it back. You, me, and Sticky Will all have to work together, but if we do, we have a shot. What do you say?”
“I say you’re off your nut! What can three kids do against a whole mob of cutthroats?”
“Yes, but Henry, that’s just it. Because we’re kids, no one will be on the lookout for us and we’ll have a chance. Don’t you see? But here’s the really hard part. We can’t tell Mum or Dad. Wigmere says the Heart of Egypt needs to go back to the Valley of the Kings. We can’t keep it here at the museum.” I cringed and hoped I wasn’t telling too much of Wigmere’s secret, but Henry already knew about the missing Heart of Egypt and he needed some explanation.
Henry tilted his head thoughtfully, and I could tell he was listening to me.
“So,” I said. “Here’s the plan. We’ll go to Carleton House Terrace first thing tomorrow morning so we can be in position to follow von Braggenschnott and his gang when they leave for the docks. After yesterday, we know what they look like, and thanks to this morning’s paper, we know when they’re returning to Germany: tomorrow on the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse at one o’clock.”
I had his full attention now. “Why don’t we just meet them at the dock? Wouldn’t that give us less chance of being spotted?”
“We need to be sure they’re taking the Heart of Egypt with them and don’t hand it off somewhere along the way. We’ll wait outside Carleton House Terrace until they leave. I have enough money so we can follow them down to the docks in a hansom cab. While they’re waiting to embark, Sticky Will can sneak in and pick von Braggenschnott’s pocket. Don’t you see? It’s brilliant!” But only if it works, I thought (though I didn’t say that out loud). If it didn’t work, it could be disastrous and we’d end up being in all sorts of hot water.
“If you don’t mind poor Will being skewered like a bug. What’s to keep this Bragging Snot fellow from sticking him, like he did Stokes?”
Drat. Found that hole, did he? “First, we’ll be in a crowd; it’s unlikely he’d pull a knife when he knows he’d get caught.”
Henry frowned. “You don’t think he’ll say that Will was trying to pick his pocket and he was just protecting his property?”
I frowned at Henry’s unexpected logic. “Will says he’s much too good to get caught. Let’s hope he’s right. Besides, that’s where you come in. You’ll need to create a diversion so that the Germans’ attention will be focused on something else.”
The scowl disappeared. “Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Like that explosion you made up at Christmas. Or those whirligigs you launched last summer that had everyone scrambling for cover. Something like that.”
His f
ace brightened. “That was a bang-up trick, wasn’t it?”
“Pure genius. And now you can do it again and become a hero!”
“And what will you be doing all this time?”
“Oh, Henry! I’ll be orchestrating and scheduling and making sure everything is going as planned.”
He got a smug look on his face and pulled the covers up under his chin. “In other words, you’ll be bossing.”
To the Docks
I SLEPT WRETCHEDLY. My brain was buzzing like an electric wire as I reviewed all the plans and backup plans we’d need. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of a thousand shabtis rising up and banging on their crates, trying to get out.
The next thing I knew, Betsy, our housemaid, was knocking on my door.
I got out of bed and looked out the window. Still gray, but the downpour had subsided into a soft rain. That, at least, was good news.
Downstairs, Mother and Father dawdled over breakfast and the paper, taking their sweet time. “Really, Theodosia!” Father said. “Must you fidget so? You act as if you’re sitting on an anthill!”
Henry sniggered and I gave him my best quelling look. Today was serious.
“I’m sorry, Father. I’m just anxious to get to the museum and … er … check on Isis.”
“Don’t even mention that cat. She’s still in disgrace for attacking me.”
“I’m sure she’ll never do it again, Father. I gave her a cure … a tonic, to calm her down.”
He took his eyes off his newspaper and peered at me over the top. “What tonic?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Oh, you know. A mixture of sardine juice, cream, some paté, ground-up catnip, and a raw egg.”
Father got a funny look on his face. He put the paper down and shoved his half-eaten breakfast away. “Go and get your coat.” He sighed heavily as he got up and left the room.
As I stood up to follow, I glanced over at his discarded newspaper. My heart sank as I read the headlines. “Hundreds Hospitalized with Virulent Influenza.”
We really had to hurry.
***
I had told Sticky Will that we would meet him at the Duke of York Column at 10:30 a.m. Since the ship didn’t leave until 1:00 p.m., I simply couldn’t imagine the Germans departing for the docks any earlier than that. However, our slow start had put me on edge. As soon as we arrived at the museum, Henry and I made ourselves scarce. Ten minutes later, we snuck out the east side entrance and hightailed it to Pall Mall.
By the time we reached the Duke of York Column, we were both hot and sweaty, in spite of the gray, wet weather.
As we approached our meeting place, Will popped out from behind the column. “Wot took you so long?”
“Parent nonsense,” I wheezed, still trying to catch my breath from our mad dash across town.
“Seems to me that ‘aving parents might be more trouble than it’s worth,” Sticky Will said with a superior air.
I knew it! He was an orphan!
“Well, come on then,” he continued. “‘Ow do we find these blokes?”
“Well, the embassy is in number nine. So we hang about near there and wait for them to leave.”
Henry gaped at me. “That’s it? That’s your plan? Crikey. I could have thought of that.”
I sniffed. “But you didn’t. Now come on.”
We headed for number nine Carleton House Terrace. It was an elegant building, with loads and loads of windows, like hundreds of unblinking eyes watching us. Or maybe that’s just what it feels like when you know you’re skulking.
We spread out and positioned ourselves so we could see all the doors, then settled down to wait.
You would think loitering would be the easiest thing in the world, but after about thirty minutes of it, one begins to feel highly conspicuous. After an hour of it, one becomes bored witless. Consequently, when a nearby clock chimed noon, I had a bad case of the fidgets. I mean, just how close were they going to cut this!
I made my way over to where Will was waiting. After a quick conference, we decided to peek in the bottom-floor windows and see if anything was happening inside.
Of course, no sooner had we left our hiding places than one of the doors burst open. A group of men exited the building, speaking German fast and loud. A motorcar was brought round and they all piled into the thing, then it putted off down the street.
Caught off-guard, we ended up scrambling. “We need to find a cab! Quick!” I looked up the street and down, hoping a hansom would appear. But of course no cabs were in sight. Then an ear-piercing whistle split the sky, nearly deafening me.
I turned to find Sticky Will with two fingers stuck in his mouth. He took a deep breath, intending to whistle again. “No! Stop! What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.
He looked at me as if I were bonkers. “Callin’ a cab. What else?”
“Yes, but also calling the attention of every German within miles. Not to mention causing severe damage to our eardrums.”
Will shifted from his left foot to his right. “Look, do you want a cab or not?”
I nodded, then clapped my hands over my ears as another one of those whistles sliced the air. But, wonder of wonders, here came a hansom!
“Told you, miss. You got to whistle if’n you want a cab.”
“You were right. Henry! We’re leaving now.”
Henry stood up from where he’d been using the long stick he was carrying to float leaf boats down the gutter. He reached us just as the carriage pulled to a stop.
The driver peered out of the hansom with a scowl on his face. “Who here was whistlin’ for a cab?”
“He was,” I said, nodding my head in Will’s direction.
“I oughtter get down out of here and box your ears. Don’t you know better than to be wasting my time!”
“But we truly need a cab.”
The cabbie looked suspicious. “‘Ave you got the blunt?”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” I dug the money out of my pocket and waved it at him.
He grunted. “Very well. Get in with you, then.”
We all clambered up into the cab. Before we’d got ourselves seated, the driver cracked his whip and the horse lurched forward, sending us all tumbling to our seats.
“Where to, miss?” he called down.
“Queen Victoria Docks, please.”
“Very well.” The hansom was much slower than the fancy motorcar the Germans were in. I was frantic, sure von Braggenschnott and his men would board the ship before we arrived.
The driver steered his horse down to the docks, a teeming rabbit warren of shipping offices, warehouses, and quays that went on for miles. Towering over all the piers and barges were rigged beams and pulleys. It was like a small city—a loud, jostley city that smelled of fish and salt and the Thames’ unique stench.
As soon as we pulled to a stop, Henry and Will leaped out of the cab. I shoved the money at the cabby. He took forever with the change. I think he was hoping I’d tell him to keep it.
Finally I got away and hurried after Henry and Will toward the ship. My heart seemed to be lodged in my throat and my stomach was twirling as badly as one of Henry’s whirligigs. The Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse was enormous; the ship towered above the docks as if someone had picked up three city blocks of very tall buildings and plopped them down next to the river.
We quickly spotted the Germans’ motorcar. They had parked it right up on the wooden dock next to the ship itself. Will, Henry, and I skidded to a stop when we realized they had only just got out of their car. We weren’t too late. That was one problem solved. We trickled into the milling crowd and began working our way to the boarding area where the Germans were headed. Will had that sauntering thing down pat. Even Henry seemed to be doing a pretty good job of acting casual. But me, well, I felt as if anyone could take one look at my face and know I was up to something. My guilty conscience, Father would say. Thinking of him finding out about this made my knees go weak.
By the time we reached the boarding
area, my nerves were stretched so tight I was afraid they might snap. I tried to focus on the lay of the land and picked out my position right away. I gave Will the signal and he strolled to the middle of the crowd. He could do this. I just knew he could. He had to.
Firmly pushing aside any doubts, I turned to Henry. After a quick conference we decided the best place for him to work his distractions would be up behind a large barricade of cargo containers. He took off in that direction, and I headed up a small ramp that led to a balcony outside the second story of a shipping office. From there, I would be able to see everyone else and give the signals.
When I reached my position, I glanced down, dismayed to see that the Germans were quite close to the loading ramp.
Almost as if he sensed something, Will glanced up in my direction. I jerked my head toward the Germans and he switched course and moved in that direction.
It was stunning how well he managed to blend in with the crowd. He moved through the throngs of people as if he were a cork bobbing on the ocean, letting the crowd’s momentum carry him forward.
I looked at Henry. Even from this distance I could see the tense excitement running through him. To him, this was all a ripping game. I left it that way. If one stopped to think of what we were risking, of what might happen if the Germans were on to us … I gulped. I forced myself to concentrate on what was happening down below and not let my imagination run wild.
Finally, the crowd’s movements carried Will within reach of the German delegation. Without looking at me, he reached up and adjusted his hat, his sign that he was in place and ready. Steady now, I told myself, my heart thumping in my chest as loudly as a big brass drum.
I caught Henry’s eye and flipped my hair over my shoulder, which was the signal. Henry nodded, then lifted the long flexible stick he’d been carrying all morning. He loaded the small leather pocket on the tip with birdshot, pulled it back, and then bent down out of sight. He took careful aim, then released the tip of the stick, sending the small lead bits raining down into the crowd.
Theodosia - The Serpents of Chaos Page 13