by A. M. Morgen
“Frobisher!” George exclaimed. He helped Frobisher to his feet, and they wrapped their arms around each other. He barely recognized his former manservant. His eyes were clearer, and his skin was no longer gray. His deep wrinkles had smoothed, making him appear twenty years younger. It suddenly occurred to George that he had no idea how old his manservant was.
“We have to hurry,” Frobisher said in a deep voice that rang out clear as a bell. “Miss Byron needs us.”
“You’re back from the spa!” George exclaimed. “And you can talk!”
Frobisher beamed. “I got my land legs back. The spa treatments worked, my dear boy. Now, no time to waste. Off we go.”
Frobisher led them to a one-horse cabriolet that George recognized as belonging to Lady Byron, Ada’s mother. George, Oscar, and Ruthie clambered into the seats, while Frobisher leapt onto the driver’s platform at the back of the sleek carriage. Frobisher slapped the reins over the horse’s back, and they took off like a shot.
George twisted around to talk to Frobisher. “Where’s Ada? Is she all right? Was Il Naso with her? Have you seen Don Nadie? Do you know who he is? Where are we going?”
“Miss Byron is fine. She sent me to bring you to C.R.U.M.P.E.T.S. if you arrived at the docks,” Frobisher said. “I can’t explain everything to you now.… I hardly understand it myself. I came home from Vienna, and Dorset Square wasn’t the same as I left it. The Society was everywhere, but Miss Byron has been evading them with the use of several disguises. Oh—and she has a message for you,” he said, pulling a slip of folded paper from his pocket.
While George unfolded and read Ada’s note, Frobisher continued. “This Don Nadie character has taken over our house, George. He’s turned it into an exhibit hall for C.R.U.M.P.E.T.S. We couldn’t stop him.”
George shivered at the thought of Don Nadie turning his beloved No. 8 into a trap for scientists, but Ada’s scribbled words pierced his fear. Oscar and Ruthie peered over his shoulder as he recited them aloud: “Follow the tube.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The cabriolet had almost arrived at Dorset Square when a sudden traffic jam slowed the horse to a stop.
Frobisher abandoned the cabriolet in the middle of the road (much to the dismay of the horse), and they went the rest of the way on foot. After some instruction from Oscar, Ruthie walked down the street with stiff arms and legs, as if she were a mechanical creature on her way to be displayed at C.R.U.M.P.E.T.S.
The neighborhood buzzed with activity. The green of Dorset Square had been trampled by eager onlookers. C.R.U.M.P.E.T.S. was about to start. Carriages were depositing the most distinguished minds in the world at the doorstep of No. 8. Or to be more precise, at the doorstep of No. 8–10. The construction was completed, and No. 10 was now attached like an enormous house-shaped tumor to the side of No. 8 by a new brick hallway. People streamed in and out of the giant house, which was made even larger by big, swooping tents on either end. The monstrous building swallowed half the block.
“Follow me.” George pressed forward to join the line of scientists entering No. 8–10. Invitations were being checked by a doorman in a red coat. Frobisher gripped George and Oscar in fear, but George quickly saw there was nothing to be afraid of—yet. The man was clean-shaven with not a mustache hair left, but George would have recognized his singular nose anywhere. The disguised Il Naso gave him a nod, filling him with confidence.
Still, Oscar hung back from the line. “I don’t understand. If Ada knows Don Nadie is coming here, why not just find a way to cancel the event? I’ll stand here and yell, ‘Fire!’ Everyone will go home, and no one will get hurt.”
“We’ll never get a chance like this again,” George said. “We know where Don Nadie will be and what he’s planning. He’s too powerful to let him get away. We can stop him once and for all today.”
“But”—Oscar bit his lip—“are you sure, George? What if something goes wrong and one of you gets hurt? I think we need more help. Maybe my father and his crew are feeling better—”
“There’s no time, Oscar. We can do this. Ada needs us. Please, we can’t turn back now.”
Oscar nodded and swallowed hard. They all marched to the front door of No. 8, where the doorman greeted them with a smile and a wink. Il Naso handed George and Oscar wire-rimmed glasses and formal black frock coats to wear. “Go inside, little rabbit. Miss Byron will be glad to see you.”
Winking at the disguised policeman, George slipped inside and tugged Oscar along the wall. Frobisher shielded them from view. George’s house had been transformed. Although George was dismayed by how little it resembled its former self, he was surprised at how well it suited its new purpose of hosting a scientific exhibition. Every hallway and room was filled with the latest inventions, some as large as a horse, some as small as a pencil. From behind his glasses, George goggled at the engines and magnets, steam-powered looms, and gas-powered heaters, as well as powders and crystals of every color that might kill or cure—it was impossible to tell by looking. Dozens of bespectacled scientists milled about in the parlor, which now opened onto the hallway that led into the large room of No. 10. Rows and rows of chairs had been set up to turn No. 10 into a lecture hall. Don Nadie was not hard to spot in a crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen.
George crept to the trumpet-shaped mouthpiece that protruded from No. 8’s wall. None of the attendees seemed to be paying attention to it. The speaking tube that led between Ada’s house and his was too simple for Don Nadie. Running his fingers along the molding, George found the latch that opened a small door in the wall: the entrance to a narrow passageway that Ada had carved out to install the tube in his walls. “Eureka,” he breathed.
Oscar and Ruthie on his heels, George eased into the passage and began to climb the ladder that ran parallel to the brass tube. Because he could not fit inside, Frobisher closed the hidden door behind them with a soft click. Together, they ascended into darkness, all the way to what used to be George’s bedroom directly above the parlor on the first floor. His heart nearly burst with joy when he pushed open a hatch identical to the one downstairs and saw Ada framed in the square of light.
“Ada!” She crouched on the small balcony next to a huge apparatus. The hulking mass of metal was suspended over a tub of water, with glass pipes and tubes passing between several copper canisters.
Ada shot up when they entered, beaming. She hugged them quickly. Her time in captivity on Don Nadie’s ship didn’t seem to have affected her physically as far as George could tell, other than a large scrape on her chin, which had scabbed over.
“George! Oscar! Ruthie! I was worried you wouldn’t find a way to get here, but I knew I could count on you. Good thing Frobisher is still in touch with a few of his old pirate friends. Really, Oscar, your father should tell his crew to keep quiet about harboring an infamous killer like George, the 3rd Lord of Devonshire. Messenger birds are very easily intercepted,” she said, patting Ruthie’s head. “Escaping from Don Nadie wasn’t nearly as much fun without you, but I have to admit it was far less time-consuming. I didn’t even have to use all my acid. Disappointing, really. With all those inventions, they didn’t think to design a better pair of handcuffs. Anyway, you’re just in time to stop him.” She said all this while fastening a sausage-shaped leather collar around her neck, as casually as if she’d seen them only yesterday.
“Ada, I have so much to tell you—you won’t believe it, but we found the real Star of Victory!”
Quickly, George and Oscar began to tell her what had happened after the Society of Nobodies took her away—but as soon as he got to the strange girl named Stella, who was cursed with good luck, Ada gasped and pieced most of it together. “Ha! How wonderful! Where is your great-aunt?”
George’s face fell. “She refused to help us.”
Ada frowned, then wrapped George in a hug and patted his back. “I’m sorry, George. The good news is that I think we can defeat Don Nadie on our own,” she said confidently.
“
His name is George,” he corrected without thinking. Now that he’d told the story again, it was getting harder to forget Don Nadie’s true name—the one his grandfather had taken from his brother.
“Oh—right,” Ada said, a curious expression on her face. She handed wadded-up linen sheets to George and Oscar. “Here’s the plan. There are two doors and two windows leading into No. 10. Give a sheet to Frobisher and Il Naso, then each of you will wait by a door or window. As soon as Don Nadie or George senior or whoever he is enters and Il Naso gives the signal that all the members of the Society are inside, you’ll shut and lock the doors and shutters and stuff these linens underneath. Don’t let anyone in or out until you hear me yell for you. Understand?”
“Where will you be?” George asked.
Ada pointed to a glass helmet just like the diving helmets they’d worn to reach the underwater wreck of La Isla. “As soon as the doors are closed, I’ll turn on this factitious airs machine. In a few minutes, No. 10 will be filled with a nontoxic gaseous compound similar to the sleeping tea—it will make everyone very sleepy and very giddy, the way you might feel the moment just before you fall asleep after an exciting day. Everyone except me will take a pleasant nap or be consumed by a giggle fit for a few minutes. I’ll slide down this rope here and tie up Don Nadie and any other members of the Society who are with him.” She gestured toward a coil of rope tied to the banister. “See? Easy as pie!”
“Easy as pie,” George repeated distractedly. It was simple. His trip to the Galápagos didn’t seem to matter at all.
Ada led them through a new hallway to a balcony that overlooked the newly constructed lecture hall below. The rows of chairs were nearly full. The light in No. 10 dimmed as Il Naso began closing the shutters from the outside. The noise from the crowd grew louder as everyone assumed the dimmed lights meant the opening lecture was about to start. “Make sure you’re each at a door or window before Don Nadie arrives,” Ada said.
George lingered on the balcony for a moment. His gut kicked unpleasantly. Which was wrong. Vanquishing Don Nadie was everything he’d wanted. He shouldn’t be feeling nervous or guilty. “What happens after we tie up Don Nadie?”
“We can’t trust the police here,” Ada said. “Vice-Chancellor Shadwell made that very clear. My friend Princess Victoria has offered her assistance, and I trust her completely. After we take care of our villain, we can calmly explain to her uncle, the King, that you did not try to kill him with a batch of fungus.” She gave George a gentle shove toward the stairs leading back to his bedroom. “Hurry. This plan won’t work unless all the doors are closed.”
“All right.” Oscar and Ruthie stayed upstairs with Ada while George took up his position behind the door in the parlor leading into the lecture hall, bubbling over with nerves. Ada was so confident in her plan.
It was a good plan. A good plan to defeat an evil person. Don Nadie was evil.
George senior, the 1st Lord of Devonshire, was evil, he corrected himself. But the words sat strangely in his mind.
Why wasn’t he happy?
His great-aunt’s words floated into his mind. Sometimes a broken thing cannot be put back together.
George pushed his doubts away. A steady stream of people passed by him. Young students with eager faces, hoping to gain knowledge, mingled with older men and women who were loudly debating scientific theories. These were the smartest people in the world, and they had no idea what was about to happen. If Ada hadn’t been able to escape and stop him, what would Don Nadie have done to these scientists?
Maybe he wouldn’t end up doing anything, George thought as he watched a woman walk by with a colorful eruption of bird feathers exploding from her hat. Maybe Don Nadie was all bluster and boast and when the time came for him to finally do the unthinkable, he would realize his plan wasn’t going to make him happy. Nothing that hurt others could ever bring him the satisfaction he was seeking.
“Stop it,” George mumbled to himself, and pushed the thought away, more forcefully this time.
From the foyer, a rhythmic, familiar tap tap tap on the marble floors began faintly but grew louder and louder. George watched as Don Nadie stepped into the parlor. The wooden boards squeaked under his weight. A tendril of fear curled around George—but then went limp. He wasn’t watching Don Nadie stride in. He was watching his great-uncle.
On his stilts, Don Nadie stood head and shoulders above everyone else. He had to crouch beneath the doorways as he walked through them. George shrank back. He pulled up the collar of his coat to hide his face as Don Nadie walked by. But he needn’t have worried. All of Don Nadie’s focus was on the crowd assembled inside No. 10. His gaze swept greedily over the rows and rows of scientists before resting on the portrait of himself and Estelle hanging over the fireplace.
He’ll never know she’s alive if I don’t tell him, George remembered with a pang.
A few red-coated members of the Society, including Roy, his sister Rose, and Shaw, followed Don Nadie inside No. 10 and took up positions around the room. The assembled scientists quieted as Don Nadie arrived at a very tall podium, which had been built to match his very tall height. No one was left in the parlor. It was time for Ada’s plan to be set in motion. Il Naso whistled a tune from his position outside the front door.
George pushed the door closed softly. He turned the key in the lock and stuffed the cloth under the door, just as Ada had told him to—though his mind churned as he stood with his back to the door, standing straight as a toy soldier. George knew the room was filling with sleeping fumes. Peals of laughter sounded through the door. The gas was working.
George removed the key and peeked through the keyhole. In the tiny sliver of room that he could see, Don Nadie swayed back and forth on his stilts, trying to keep his balance. The woman with the feathered hat was nodding off in her chair. Several members of the Society yawned and lay down on the floor to take a nap. A shadow blotted George’s vision briefly. It was Ada, sliding down the rope from the balcony. George looked away. He didn’t want to see what happened next.
Maybe Ada’s plan was so simple because, for once, it was not the right plan.
For the first time since he had unlocked its secret in Spain, George retrieved the butterfly pendant that he’d taken from Patty’s neck. He had kept it with the Star of Victory safe as he traveled across the world. His grandfather had left behind so many clues that led to Estelle that George had accidentally stumbled across several of them without knowing it. Arthur had been practically screaming the secret in the only way he could.
But Don Nadie had no one to help him solve Arthur’s puzzles. Estelle had never sent him a letter telling him that she wasn’t dead. He’d rejected all the clues Arthur had sent out into the world. How could he have known his sister was alive?
If he had, would it have even mattered?
George inhaled sharply. Maybe his grandfather Arthur Foote hadn’t meant for George to destroy his great-uncle. Maybe he had something different in mind for him. Maybe he wanted George to be a hero not by saving the world…
…but by saving Don Nadie, the true George Devonshire.
George’s stomach lurched. If Don Nadie saw that his sister was alive, maybe his heart could be softened. Estelle had said that some broken things couldn’t be put back together—but what if she was wrong? Scraps of broken things could make something new. Ada proved that every day in her workshop, with every new invention she created. Was it possible to put his own family back together again and make it new?
A tidal wave of certainty rushed through him. If George could draw a picture of his future, he knew who would be in it. George couldn’t bear to wait any longer—if he didn’t act now, he never would.
He ripped the cloth away from the entrance. A whoosh of fresh air filled No. 10 as George threw open the door he’d been supposed to keep closed.
Chapter Thirty
Wait!”
Ada was crossing Don Nadie’s hands together behind his back when George burst into th
e room. Most of the men and women in the crowd were slumped over in their chairs. The rest were giggling blissfully.
The plan had succeeded, but George had failed.
“George, what on earth are you doing?” Ada’s voice was muffled behind the glass diving mask, but her anger was clearly audible.
“This isn’t right,” George said, stepping around anesthetized scientists. He was beginning to feel woozy himself.
Ada began to wrap a length of rope around Don Nadie’s wrists. He smiled up at George sleepily. “He’s going to hurt people,” Ada chided.
George shook his head. He unwound the ropes from his great-uncle’s wrists. “There’s another way to stop him. I have to tell him about the real Star of Victory. He deserves to know.”
Ada took off her helmet and shook out her dark curls. Her lips twitched, but eventually, she said, “What he deserves is to go back to prison.”
George stood over Don Nadie, protecting him. “My grandfather ran circles around him. George Devonshire never felt good enough. His brother and sister were always off having adventures that he never quite understood. They played games and solved puzzles that he couldn’t understand.”
The face of his own father surfaced in his head, sneering, Brains of porridge! Brains of porridge!
Hot tears had begun to stream down George’s face. “I know exactly how that feels.”
“His situation is entirely different. You’re not like him at all,” Ada said. She moved toward Don Nadie again, but George blocked her while Don Nadie snored peacefully between his feet.
“Only because I was lucky enough to meet you,” George said passionately. “Don Nadie was lonely. I thought I was lonely, too—but I was wrong. First I had my grandfather, then Frobisher, and then you to show me that I was good enough. His family was taken away from him. His entire identity. If he knew Estelle was alive, he might not need the Society of Nobodies to be his family anymore.”