Chapter Twelve
When I arrived at the docks I was relieved to find that Doctor Mac, after the manner of Saul, stood head and shoulders above the mass of people near the Prometheus. I caught up with Doctor Mac and Madame Phoebe just before they separated themselves from the mob and dragged the doctor aside.
“Your wife awaits you in Twist’s Mail Coach airship over there, and your patient as well.” I pressed myself and Doctor Mac against a wall as dockworkers crushed by us carrying an entire ship’s mast. It screened us from view perfectly and I breathed a prayer of thanks. “You must all three join the children and not let it be known that Mr. Campbell will live or that the two of you have returned. Go now. Do not ask questions. All three of your lives and your wife’s fortune depend on staying out of sight and analyzing the contents of this bag. Be careful, it is some kind of poison.” I thrust Visha’s pouch at him. “Please, trust me. God is my witness, I wish I could trust myself, but of what I have just told you, at least, I am certain. Go. Now.”
Mac gave me one sharp look. The next thing I saw was Tod, Oliver Twist’s driver, fixing his goggles in place and pretending to whip up the “horses” as the carriage door closed. Before the crowd could even scatter out of the way of what they thought was a lunging, clattering behemoth bearing down on them, the whole thing went airborne.
I ducked under the still-passing mast and linked my arm in Madame Phoebe’s. The entire exchange between we two men had happened so quickly that she had just turned round to see where her husband’s cousin had gone. She started violently to find me at her side.
“What has happened?” she studied my grim expression.
“I have sent your cousins and your husband to safety. Pray, oh, pray, our lady leader, that I have done right.”
“Mac and Rose are in danger? How do you know? What have you learned?”
“First we must play out this little drama. It must succeed, and then I will explain everything.” I had been whispering, but now I raised my voice to a shout.
“I must and will have your autograph, Miss Phoebe Moore!” I exclaimed. “My wife and daughter simply dote upon you.”
Dozens of heads turned. Madame Phoebe made the effort to stifle her terrified look and enter into the drama we had planned and rehearsed, though not with this player and not with this new mystery burdening her heart. I produced a little book she saw was her own daybook, but she quickly fell into step and took the pen I offered. More than a score of people now fumbled for writing materials and pressed around us.
I looked over her head and saw the coach had entirely vanished. I cast my eyes around. Mowgli and Bagheera, along with Sluefoot Sue, blocked any possible entrance or exit from the area around the Prometheus. Bagheera snarled and danced in his cage while Mowgli pretended to bait him while occasionally thumping his chest and turning handsprings. Sue gave a sharpshooting exhibition worthy of Annie Oakley, and now that Madame Phoebe was suitably mobbed, not a soul could have escaped from the dock area, nor could the innocent passersby get near the gangplank of the Prometheus unless possibly they chose to come by water.
But I saw that way was covered as well. Fun See had a colorful Chinese junk pulled up beside the Prometheus’ berth and Edward Ferrars stood on the deck, preaching a sermon to a curious crowd wondering how the charming little English vicar fit in with the flamboyantly-dressed Chinaman. I heard a snatch or two of the sermon, apparently entitled, “My Sheep Hear My Voice,” and realized that Fun See was busy translating for Edward, and that half the crowd gathered by the junk was made up of riveted Chinese listeners.
“Can it be that God will save more souls this day, in the midst of this dark quest of ours?”
“More souls?” Madame Phoebe echoed, busily writing her name for the tenth time. “You do have a tale to tell, don’t you, Florizel?”
I swallowed hard and scanned the crowd again. Oliver Twist finally came into view as he knocked down a harmless passerby while staring into the apparently blank screen of his absurd tablet. What he might be doing with it this time I could only wonder, until Twist’s head snapped up abruptly and he pointed toward the gangplank of the Prometheus.
Zambo darted into view as a regally-dressed pair stepped off the gangway accompanied by a small army of clerks carrying document cases. A full score of grimy individuals converged on Lord Malcolm and Lady Anne with shouts of, “Jist a copper, guv’nor! Oy ain’t et in days!” “Ha’penny is all I asks, M’lord. M’lady!” “Two bits, for God’s love, Guv!” “A shilling! A shilling fer me sick child!”
A squad of constables followed Zambo and the whole herd of beggars found themselves corralled. Mowgli and Sue added themselves to the outskirts of the wall of bobbies and Mowgli waved a document case in the air. Phoebe sighed with relief.
“Not so fast, Madame,” I frowned. Oliver Twist looked about him in bewilderment and twisted his dark blue dials frenetically. The clerks surrounding his lordship and his daughter had begun to churn like a maelstrom. It might have been because of the commotion around them but I saw Twist abruptly make a ninety-degree turn and peer in our general direction. I darted away from Madame Phoebe’s side as Oliver broke into a run following a clerk disappearing into the crowd ahead of the angelic mad scientist. Just as we both caught hold of the drab little coattails I felt a thump and a jab in my side. Zambo caught me and the fleeing clerk both in his huge arms as I crumpled and the world went black.
“Prince Florizel! Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that when you hate it so. Sir, sir, won’t you wake up! Phoebe will never forgive us if you die!” I groaned and focused on the plump countenance of Annabelle Bliss Fun anxiously dabbing my forehead with a cool cloth.
“Did we succeed?” I tried to get up from the bed that had formerly been occupied by Doctor and Mrs. Campbell. Four pairs of hands pushed me back as I found myself once again overwhelmed by the Legacy wives. Sahara remorselessly tightened the already painful bandage around my midsection. Elinor Ferrars angled a spoonful of thick white liquid I took to be Laudanum to my lips. Abdalla Gafur arranged a blanket below the bandage and to my horror I realized that I wore nothing but the blanket and the bandage.
“How is he?” Reverend Ferrars hovered nearby. “I should have already been in to give my report at the meeting. They’ll burst in on us any moment if I don’t--”
“Reverend Ferrars, I appeal to you as a man of the cloth that this is unseemly, to be exposed in this manner before these delicate ladies’ eyes,” I spluttered.
“Since these delicate ladies reduced you to that state, good sir, I would never presume to dispute their authority. I shall report you as being out of danger and on the mend, then.” The little minister departed with all convenient speed.
“I wish Mac hadn’t left, or that we could call some doctor,” Annabelle fussed.
“His highness need only lie still and mend and there will be no need,” Abdalla said. “The trouble will be in getting him to lie still.”
I sank back and let Elinor administer the drug and sips of tea. As much as I wanted to escape this nursemaid invasion I had no strength. “What happened?”
“The false clerk you caught was armed with a Medici Wheelock dagger,” Annabelle replied. “It’s a really fine piece. Phoebe said I could keep it for my collection of weapons. We were terrified by the amount of blood you lost, though, so you really must keep still.”
I forced myself to suppress the incredibly distracting thought of Annabel Fun keeping a collection of weapons. “The documents?”
“Safe in British government hands,” Elinor assured me. “Scotland Yard’s representative is certain it will be a decade before anyone can get their hands on those papers.”
“And Doctor Campbell and his party?”
“Also safe.” Sahara gave one last agonizing tug at the bandage. “Mr. Tod returned as swiftly as possible with the report that all are safe at the country estate. Mr. Campbell is much better and the doctor expects him to be up and around within the wee
k.”
I closed my eyes and immediately an image of Visha Kanya floated into view, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had put her life into my hands. What if I had died without explaining the precious pouch or the sacrifice she had made to prove her conversion?
“I must make my report.” I tried again to rise but was pushed back. “No, you do not understand. I have to tell Madame Campbell and the others what I learned from Visha -- I mean, from that woman – I--”
“Phoebe will be here to listen to your tale shortly,” Elinor assured me. “I gave her the general outline of your conversation with the girl. You were very brave, Florizel, to face a poison maiden alone, to confront a thief based on Doctor Twist’s eccentricities, but you really must not be stupid now. Have a little patience.”
I did not realize I had slept until I opened my eyes and found Madame Phoebe alone in a chair beside the bed. I was still without even a dressing gown and had a most difficult time forcing down my mortification to meet Madame Phoebe’s searching gaze.
“I await your full report, Florizel.”
I gave it, sparing no details this time, not even the kiss Visha had planted on my cheek before she had left. When I finished Phoebe sighed.
“God bless you for acting so quickly to protect my husband and our cousins. And we owe you and Doctor Twist congratulations for keeping our operation from failing miserably. I apologize for ever questioning whether you were one of us.”
“Did I do the right thing?”
“You mean letting her go free? Mac sent a note along with Tod saying he’d done some field-testing of the herbs you gave him while in the airship en route to safety. He could at least be certain he had never encountered so potent a poison and that it was not what had been given to Archie. I believe she told you the truth. You were really able to lead her to Christ? Edward says five souls found Christ at the docks as well. What a joyous day! We shall truly overcome evil with good at this rate!”
“I must see Trevor right away. I must untangle him from this web of Dodge’s.”
“Trevor has already asked to see you. He has heard of your unfortunate accident at the docks and was quite demanding. We managed to put him off until this afternoon. He will wait on you here in our drawing room at four. Are you really such good friends?”
“It may not be Trevor alone who is so interested in my welfare.”
“Visha? She must care for you very much. You said she kissed you, Florizel. Weren’t you afraid of her poison?”
I realized I should have been and wondered why I had not suffered any effects. I remembered the butterfly-soft touch on my cheek, the tightly-clamped lips and realized she had been protecting me by not allowing more than an external, fleeting contact. Yet she had been unable to resist doing it.
“We must be sure to get her bag of herbs back from Mac as quickly as possible,” Phoebe went on. “We owe her a great debt for making our assignment successful and showing us we were on the right track. Rest now and I’ll get you something to eat. Thank the Lord the dagger didn’t hit anything vital. Zambo got you in a bear hug at once when he saw how you were bleeding, until someone could get the blade out and get it bound up.”
“Give Zambo my most heartfelt thanks. What is the next stage of our plan?”
“We know now that Dodge is desperate for money. We must try to learn where he will go looking for it next.” Madame Phoebe rose and brushed a hand along the side of my face. “I am off to study the gossip columns and see how they report on our performance today. We must gauge Dodge’s reaction and learn whether he has formed a new plan.”
“Are you certain the country folk are safe?”
“Zambo has placed at our disposal some of the employees of his security business. They pose as domestics but have very good skills when defense is needed. We have sent them to the estate and pray for God’s protection on our loved ones as well.”
“Mrs. Campbell’s foundation assets must be guarded. Visha mentioned particularly that Dodge was eyeing them as a revenue source.”
“That is also being seen to. Florizel, you have been hero enough for one day. Do try to rest.”
I had to beg for my clothes before the arrival of Trevor Newsome. Getting them on, however, was one of the most difficult things I had ever done. To my mortification, Zambo carried me out to the central sitting room of the penthouse. I had to be grateful, though, since just dressing had exhausted me.
Visha, dressed in her full regalia and blue silk cloak, trailed in Trevor’s wake and seemed to disappear into a corner, a puzzling trick in a round room. Even more immaculately groomed and polished than before, Trevor perched on the arm of the sofa and eyed me critically.
“You look perishing awful, Florrie.”
“You are too kind, Trevor. How is the campaign? I must confess I do not even know when the election is to be held. The trials of the expatriate are endless.”
“Never mind that, Florrie. Are you all right? I’m not joking. You look ghastly. What happened?”
“I heard someone shouting, ‘Death to foreigners! England for Englishmen.’” I waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve wanted proof for years that my blood isn’t blue, Trevor. I can assure you it’s red. The first pint or two was, at any rate.”
A soft thump spun both our heads around and at first we missed the crumpled heap of blue silk in the shadows. Trevor vaulted up as Visha roused herself from the floor and tried to get back onto her feet.
“Visha! What the devil was that? Did you actually faint?” Her pallor was extreme. Trevor sat her down in a wingback chair and grabbed the brandy on the table beside me. I had been ordered to sip it for my own light-headedness but had barely touched the bottle. Seeing Trevor put it straight to Visha’s lips I knew I would never touch it again. Her eyes met mine as she recovered herself and the bottle flew out of Trevor’s hands and smashed against the wainscoting. I almost smiled.
“I’m so sorry. Thank you, Trevor. I don’t know what came over me.” She cast her eyes down and retreated to her corner. Trevor gave her a puzzled look but returned to his perch on the couch arm.
“Sorry, old man. Looked to be a pretty expensive brandy.”
“The Campbells can afford it.” I affected indifference.
“By the Lord Harry, seems as if they can. This is the absolute poshest hotel in town, and they take the penthouse by the month? I should get Miss Phoebe Moore to sing at a fundraiser. D’y’ think she would?”
“It can’t hurt to ask. Pity you missed the real holders of the pursestrings, Doctor and Mrs. Campbell. I have heard their resources are considerable.”
“Pish-tosh. They must be halfway across the Atlantic by now. Wish you’d told me when we met at the club and you were so absent-minded that you hob-knobbed with the well-heeled. Seems my campaign funding has suffered a temporary hiccup again. The Dodge Foundation has ‘so many irons in the fire,’ don’tcha know. Just met with ‘em in an emergency meeting last night and the powers that be say my budget must be slashed shamefully. Seriously, Florrie, would it be too rude if I hit Mrs. Moore-Campbell or her managerial spouse up for a donation?”
“I am sure they expect to be approached by politicians, Trevor. But I also know they have the highest principles and you had better be certain they can in good conscience support you.”
Trevor barely attended. “I’m getting all this chaff from Mater’s family. They didn’t even want to know me six months ago, when I began my campaign, but suddenly it’s ‘How are the polls, dear Trevor?’ ‘Saw your picture in the paper last night, darling.’ I wonder if I know those people? They used to be too aristocratic to pay attention to dirty old politics. I wish they had money and not just title.”
I hoped my resolve to talk Trevor out of his connection to Dodge would prove unnecessary. Trevor seemed determined to take his fundraising back into his own hands.
Trevor jumped up. “I’ll just see if I can tactfully approach Miss Moore. Take care of yourself, will you, Florrie? Maybe shave that silly
beard and try to look a little more English and you won’t incite the rabid nationalists to violence. Practice your ‘pip-pips’ or something.”
Trevor bustled out and before I remembered she was there, Visha sank down on her knees before me.
“And you feared for my safety,” she whispered. “You are my father in Christ. Swear to me that you are not badly hurt.”
I could not resist the impulse to touch her shining hair. I hoped it was a fatherly gesture. “They tell me I shall live, Visha. We are all praying for you.”
“Trevor is changing.” She glanced toward the open door of Phoebe and Archie’s suite. “Something drives him beyond his silly political ambitions. I used to be afraid for him. Now I wonder if I should not be afraid of him.”
I studied her, shocked. I had to admit that Trevor’s blatant inquiries about getting money from the Campbells had surprised me. Clearly his visit had little to do with concern about my injury or with friendship.
“Go along or Trevor will miss you.” Visha joined Trevor as he reemerged and they vanished down the lift together. I gingerly shifted my position as Madame Phoebe entered with a tray.
“Did Trevor really ask you for a donation?”
“The bank has already issued a draft to his campaign,” Phoebe smiled. “You still look too pale. Be sure to drink all of this broth. All the ladies have added their favorite strengthening potions and I can’t imagine how it will taste, but we do need to get you back on your feet.”
“The brandy has come to an unfortunate end.” I indicated the glass and the pungent, seeping mess. “Visha fainted and Trevor dosed her straight from the bottle. Clearly she wanted to protect us.”
“I’ll get that cleaned up.” Madame Phoebe set down the tray. “That is as strong a testimony to her changed heart as any I can imagine. She fainted because you were wounded, didn’t she? Not only that, but she prevented any of us from having a poisoned brandy in a way that wouldn’t make Trevor suspicious.”
I digested that but made no direct response. “Dodge is low on funds, just as you suspected. Trevor finds himself cut off at the knees for the moment. It seems they do not know the doctor and his wife have come back, either. Where will Dodge go for funding next?”
“If you are up to it, we are meeting to discuss that and other things in a few minutes. No, no, you are not to stir from that couch. The Alexander Legacy Company will meet here as soon as we assemble a few more chairs. I’ll get that glass and brandy cleaned up and we’ll join you shortly.”
A Dodge, a Twist and a Tobacconist Page 15