by C T Cassana
“Hello?” she said.
“Good afternoon, Helen,” responded a voice with a soft timbre and a friendly manner.
All the same, when she recognized who it was Miss Rotherwick jumped in her seat.
“It’s Suzanne from Dr. Harris’ office,” said the voice.
“Hello, Suzanne. What can I do for you?” said Miss Rotherwick, trying to calm herself.
“Dr. Harris has asked me to find out whether you could come see him this afternoon,” replied the nurse. “On the date of your next appointment an opportunity has arisen for him to attend a conference that is of great interest to him, and you would be doing us a huge favor if we could change it.”
“I’m so sorry, but this afternoon I have an engagement that I simply cannot cancel,” said Miss Rotherwick. “By the way, have you received my test results yet? I wouldn’t want to go if they haven’t come in yet...”
“Yes, as a matter of fact we received them this morning,” replied the nurse in her mild-mannered tone. “How about tomorrow? Could you make it then?”
“Well, I...” Miss Rotherwick tried to think of an excuse.
“Dr. Harris would be extremely grateful,” interrupted the nurse politely. “It’s very important to him.”
“Alright, I’ll come tomorrow,” agreed Miss Rotherwick at last.
“Marvelous, Helen, thank you so much. Is ten o’clock alright?”
“The afternoon would be better.”
“Three o’clock?”
“I’d prefer around four-thirty.”
“Alright, we’ll see you at four-thirty tomorrow then. And thanks again,” added the nurse, just before she hung up the phone.
When she did, she turned around to Dr. Harris, who had been following the whole conversation right beside her.
“It’s confirmed, Doctor. She’ll be here tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “Honestly, that woman is a tough nut to crack.”
. . .
Shortly after getting back from his weekly visit to the James A. Farley Post Office Building, Max received the response to the request he’d made to Jeff Carter a few days earlier: the “Milford List”. The full names and addresses of the fifteen E. Milfords living in Greater London. It also included their phone numbers, which would make it easy to contact them all.
Max looked over the list and got to work. He was in a hurry to find out which of them was his mysterious time traveler.
. . .
The children arrived right on time for their meeting with Miss Rotherwick. Although this time there was nothing to celebrate, their director had prepared a snack just as delicious as the one she’d offered them on their last visit. Charlie took the initiative, picking up one of the little pastries laid out on a small tray and announcing the details of their next journey.
“Right, so we’re going to Paris to see Mr. Denon on the 30th of September 1809,” he said, in an effort to impress his companions.
Miss Rotherwick smiled with satisfaction.
“Very good, my dear,” she replied. “Although you won’t have the chance to see him.”
The boy gave her a quizzical look, failing to understand what she meant.
“You see, this is Dominique Vivant Denon,” she explained, showing them a portrait picture. “A highly cultivated and multifaceted man who over the course of his life took up a wide range of occupations, from diplomat, to writer, to artist, to art collector. But in 1809, he was the director of the Napoleon Museum, known today as the Louvre.”
Charlie listened to her explanation and wondered what it had to do with what he had said.
“Among his many responsibilities, Mr. Denon was responsible for building up the museum’s collection, often with pieces confiscated in the countries that Napoleon had conquered,” explained the woman. “That is why in 1809, Denon left France to follow the Austrian Campaign, and he didn’t return to Paris until the 26th of November of that year.”
“Well, that’s even better, because that means we can go to his house and look for the papyrus scroll there without having to worry about getting caught,” remarked Charlie.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that, my dear,” responded Miss Rotherwick. “It’s likely that his house would be heavily guarded, because it was inside the museum. That was one of the privileges of his position.”
“I don’t think it will matter too much,” suggested Lisa. “Our visit will be short, and of course we’ll be as careful as we’ve been on our other trips.”
“In this folder I have prepared the same kinds of documents for you as before: a photo of the papyrus scroll, a floor plan with the coordinates of Monsieur Denon’s apartment, and a map of the Louvre. Set the clothing annulus to the highest class. If someone catches you, I think you’ll have less trouble dressed that way.”
Lisa took the folder and flipped through its contents quickly.
“We’ll go tomorrow afternoon and we’ll come here afterwards to tell you how it went,” she said.
“Tomorrow afternoon I have some things to do and I won’t be at the museum, my dear,” replied Miss Rotherwick. “But we’ll meet the day after tomorrow, if that’s alright. It would be better if you use tomorrow to prepare for the journey and then go to Paris the day after, in the afternoon. As soon as you get back, come and see me.”
“Alright,” said the girl with a relaxed smile. “We’ll see you on Wednesday then.”
Then she got up and made to leave. Charlie shot her a bewildered look, rather surprised by the short duration of the meeting. Everything had gone well, apparently. Lisa seemed to be getting along with Miss Rotherwick and accepting all the instructions she gave them. However, he knew his sister too well not to recognize when she was pretending. And that afternoon she’d been pretending the whole time, although he hadn’t managed to work out what she was hiding.
. . .
In spite of the time difference, Max Wellington had made some important discoveries about five of the fifteen people on the list.
Edgar Milford was a retired man, aged seventy-three, who suffered from a chronic kidney ailment diagnosed eighteen months earlier. His condition disqualified him completely, because if he had made the journey to the prehistoric age and to the time of Tutankhamun, he would have been dead by now. Those voyages had been made to two different remote periods within a very short space of time, which meant that only a person in good health could have made them.
Emily Milford, a 40-year-old woman with two children, played sports and led a healthy lifestyle, an optimal profile for a time traveler. The only problem was that on the date that the patient infected with Yersinia pestis was admitted to hospital, Emily had been out of the country on business. Disqualified.
Eric Milford was a seven-month-old baby. Disqualified.
Esther Milford was a woman of twenty-five with diabetes. Managing her condition while traveling in time would be quite challenging, although not insurmountable. However, it didn’t make much sense that she would have taken chocolate with her on a voyage. Possible, but unlikely.
Edward Milford was thirty-seven years of age, single, a cultured and refined gentleman who worked as a history teacher at a London school. He was a good candidate and he was in excellent health; indeed, he hadn’t missed a single class at the school where he taught in the last two weeks... including the dates when the plague victim was being treated in the hospital. Corroborated by the school secretary and the academic advisor. Disqualified.
Max looked at the next name on the list and picked up the phone once again.
. . .
Before going down to dinner, Charlie went into Lisa’s bedroom to find out what she was really up to. He found her sitting on her bed, looking over the documents that Miss Rotherwick had given them.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting ready for the trip,” she replied without looking up from the papers.
“And why don’t you do it tomorrow, like Helen told us to?”
“Because we won’t have time tomorr
ow,” she answered.
Charlie looked her in the eye, appealing to her to share her plans with him.
“There’s no point in waiting until the day after tomorrow, or going back to the date she’s told us to go back to,” said Lisa. “We’ll go tomorrow afternoon, but we’ll go to the 30th of November 1809, when Denon was already back in Paris.”
“But why do you want to do that?” asked her brother.
“First, we’ll go to Denon’s house to look for the papyrus scroll,” explained Lisa, her tone growing bolder as she went on. “But if we don’t find it, I’m going to see Denon myself to try to get some information out of him on its whereabouts. And if I don’t succeed, we’ll go back again on Wednesday, just before we go and see Helen. Or we’ll tell her that we couldn’t go for some reason and we’ll convince her to let us go to Paris on the next possible date.”
“But she’s going to get mad at us. We promised to do what she told us to.”
“She’s going to tell Mum and Dad everything, Charlie. Don’t you get it? If instead of having only one chance to find the papyrus scroll we can have two, we have to take them both.”
The boy pondered Lisa’s words, and decided that she was right. Yet he couldn’t help feeling that he was betraying Miss Rotherwick.
“She doesn’t need to know. She won’t get mad if we don’t tell her anything; actually, we’ve hidden a lot of things from her about our time trips. I like her too,” Lisa insisted, using her most persuasive voice, “and I know she only wants to protect us. But we’re on the verge of finding it and we have to act as logically as possible.”
The boy said nothing, but Lisa knew that she had succeeded in convincing him.
“Don’t worry,” she added. “We’re following her instructions... almost. We’re just making a few minor changes.”
CHAPTER XVIII: Charlot D’Artagnan
The next day, as soon as they got back from school, Charlie and Lisa met in the attic.
“This is what we’re going to do,” she began. “We’ll travel to the Louvre one month later than the date Helen gave us, when Monsieur Denon is back in Paris. First, we’ll go to his house, using the coordinates that Helen gave us, to look for the papyrus scroll there. If we find it, we’ll come back and go see her tomorrow, as if we just got back from our trip.”
“And if we don’t?” asked Charlie.
“Then we’ll go talk to Monsieur Denon,” replied Lisa. “We’ll pretend to be the kids of a rich dealer and say we’re interested in buying papyrus scrolls. We’ll ask him if he knows where we can find some and if he has any for sale or knows anyone who might be selling them. Maybe that way we can find out where he’s got the scroll or what he’s done with it.”
“And what if we don’t find anything out?” Charlie quizzed her.
“Then we’ll go back and look tomorrow, although that will mean going back nine years later. We’ll prepare our trip and our strategy based on what we find out today.”
“But Helen will realize that we’ve taken another trip when she sees that we can’t travel any earlier than 18...” Charlie hesitated while he tried to calculate the next date they’d be able to go back to Paris.
“Don’t forget she said that this would be our last trip, Charlie,” said Lisa calmly. “She’s going to tell Mum; she’ll know everything by the weekend.”
Charlie fell silent. He hadn’t yet taken in the fact that his time-traveling days were numbered. He was tied to the cape for life, but no doubt once his parents knew of its existence there would be a hiatus of an uncertain duration before he would be able to time travel again.
“Well, let’s get going,” said Lisa while she finished setting the annuli on the bracelet. “We’ll take the folder that Helen prepared for us; it’s quite complete, although I’ve also written down the real date we’re traveling to. This time we can’t afford to forget anything; we mustn’t make a single mistake.”
“Right,” replied Charlie with a serious look.
Then he put his arms around his sister and turned the clasp on the bracelet.
. . .
Max Wellington took the opportunity of the monthly meeting of the Order of the Knights of Time to give the good news to his mentor, Emanuel Gentile. He was worried about the difficulties that his friend was having in maintaining his authority within the organization, and about the toll these efforts were taking on his delicate state of health. The knowledge that he had discovered a new clue would surely lift his spirits and help him to carry on.
“I’m following a very strong lead on a missing cape,” he announced to the Grand Master, in a quiet moment before the other knights had arrived.
“Well done, my boy!” exclaimed the old man, visibly pleased. “I only hope your investigations don’t take too long.”
“I didn’t take long to work out that he’s somewhere in Greater London. It will be quite easy to find him; he appears to be a rather careless traveler.”
“And he has the misfortune of being the next prey of one of the best hunters I’ve ever known,” added Emanuel Gentile, congratulating his protégé with an affectionate pat on the back.
They walked together into the villa, where another tense and conflictive meeting of the Knights of Time would take place.
. . .
Dr. Harris’ nurse welcomed Miss Rotherwick with her customary politeness.
“Good afternoon, Helen,” she said, while she directed her to the doctor’s office. “Please go in; the doctor is waiting for you.”
When he saw her enter, Dr. Harris rose to his feet, greeted her affectionately and helped her to a seat. He offered her tea with the same geniality he showed her on all his visits, although Miss Rotherwick knew that this visit was different. She had known him for many years, and she knew him too well not to realize that there wasn’t any conference that he wanted to attend, but that in reality he had needed to talk to her urgently.
“I have bad news, Helen,” the doctor told her as he handed her the teacup. “The disease has spread extremely quickly in very little time, although I don’t understand what would have caused it.”
Miss Rotherwick nodded as if she had expected this diagnosis.
“Are you sure you haven’t traveled or done any demanding physical activity or made any extraordinary exertion lately?”
“I think the only thing I’ve done has been to live more intensely over the past few weeks, but I consider it beneficial rather than harmful,” said the woman with a smile.
“Perhaps the time has come to retire, Helen, to lead a quieter life. Your level of activity right now could only do you harm,” said the doctor, trying to make his oft-repeated recommendation sound as if he was making it for the first time.
“I don’t think so, Dr. Harris,” she answered. “It’s what helps me to feel alive. In fact, it’s been a long time since I felt as happy as I do now.”
“In that case, why don’t we start the treatment? Perhaps we can slow it down a little,” suggested the doctor, almost pleading.
“It’s too high a price, my dear. We’ve talked about it before,” replied Miss Rotherwick in a gentle voice.
“Come on, Helen, be reasonable. Don’t you realize that you don’t have much longer? The treatment is the only way to hold off the inevitable,” pressed the doctor, trying to persuade her at last.
“The treatment would allow me to live longer, but not as I wish to live. The end would be gentler, but also longer, and to live tied to a bed is not something I wish to do,” she replied serenely. “I have no reason to lengthen my life at such a cost; there is nobody who really needs me at their side, so I would rather fully enjoy my last few moments and go out quickly.”
Dr. Harris lowered his eyes. He knew he couldn’t convince her.
“Don’t worry, my dear. I’m prepared,” she reassured him, placing her hand on top of his. “Just tell me how much time I have left.”
“It’s impossible to know for certain,” replied the doctor sadly. “Perhaps before I wou
ld have ventured an estimate, but the results of these latest tests change everything... The best advice I can give you is to put your affairs in order. And to do it as soon as you can.”
. . .
The first thing Charlie saw was his sister. Her clothing had been transformed into a beautiful blue dress with delicate beige-colored embroidery. Although it wasn’t like the formal attire that Miss Rotherwick had worn in Vienna, it was a pretty dress, and made his sister look truly elegant and much older than she actually was. Little details, like the subtle but exquisite white and gray pearl necklace, a pair of matching earrings, and a charming straw hat with a ribbon the same color as her dress, gave her the distinguished look of a refined young lady.
“Wow, Lisa! You look amazing!” gasped Charlie admiringly. “It’s a shame you weren’t born in this era so you could dress like that all the time.”
“No, thanks! This is pretty uncomfortable,” replied his sister, smiling at his remark. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”
Having thus exchanged compliments, they turned their attention to the place where they had appeared. It was a large room with several shelves packed with books, various artworks and a neatly ordered desk to one side. Evidently, they were in Monsieur Denon’s library.
The door was closed, but behind it they could hear noises and a voice humming a tune. There was someone in the house. Lisa went over to the door to find out who it was, while making signals to her brother for him to keep quiet.
She turned the knob slowly and opened the door a crack. She peeked through carefully first to see what was happening on the other side; then, she slipped out into the hallway and came back a few seconds later.
“There’s a maid in the house,” she whispered to her brother while she closed the door gently. “She’s ironing in the kitchen, so we need to hurry, just in case she comes in here.”
The boy nodded and then looked around, trying to decide where to begin. Lisa did the same, scanning the room for some kind of clue.