When we finally arrived, Karl Schneider immediately left to join his family, but not without enormous gratitude.
Brodie arranged to meet him the following day at the German Gymnasium, once Brodie had the opportunity to meet with Sir Avery. He’d keep his word that he would make certain Karl was allowed to remain in London.
We were both exhausted and bruised. Myself from that wagon ride across the city of Frankfurt to the rail station in time to take that last train of the night to Paris. Brodie from fightinghis way out of the opera house after encountering two guards that one of the gentlemen bidders had sent after him.
I didn’t want to go to the town house. There would have been too many questions from my housekeeper.
Nor was I ready to answer endless questions about the resolution of the case, most particularly that auction, from my great-aunt; there would be time enough for that later. Nor questions from Lily with her avid curiosity.
“Sir Avery?” I asked, as it was necessary for us to eventually meet with him in the matter of the case.
However, after sending Karl off to join his family, Brodie gave our driver instructions to take us to the office on the Strand.
Mr. Cavendish nodded a welcome, guarding the street entrance below should anyone arrive asking for either of us, while Rupert the hound settled himself outside the door to the office at the second-floor landing.
Once inside the office, Brodie poured some of my great-aunt’s very fine whisky into two glass tumblers.
He emptied his glass and that dark gaze met mine.
“It’s time to go to bed.”
“It’s barely past noon,” I pointed out, hardly a respectable time to be abed.
He took my empty glass, set it on the table beside his, then took my hand as he led me to what served as a bedroom.
“There could be a scandal,” I said then, my voice quite husky.
It could have been the whisky, that smothering ride rolled inside that filthy carpet on that insane trip across the city, or...that dark gaze that looked back at me now.
“Aye,” he replied. “There could be. Do ye care?”
“Not at all,” I replied.
Epilogue
We had been backin London almost a full month after returning from Frankfurt.
Brodie and I had met with Sir Avery and gave him our report about the case, emphasizing Karl Schneider’s part in retrieving the documents. Brodie quite simply informed him that the least the Agency could do was to clear Karl to remain in the country. After all he was a skilled tradesman, and would be a loyal subject.
I had added that last part of our request, then informed Sir Avery that it was the least a grateful nation could do for someone who had acted selflessly and at great personal risk. In the end it was done.
“And the documents?” Sir Avery demanded with a look a Brodie.
That was the part of our report that did need some explanation.
According to what Brodie told him—and the story we had agreed upon—the design plans for an armed air ship that could rain devastation down on innocent people had been lost in a violent fire at the opera house in Frankfurt.
Only a slight embellishment. I had refused to see those documents, for what was obviously a weapon of war, handed over so the plans could become reality. Instead, I had convinced Brodie that they needed to be destroyed.
“If the bloody thing is not built now, another will take its place,” he had pointed out. “Ye saw it yerself at the auction. All those very eager to have the plans, and with only one purpose for such a thing.”
Precisely, I thought. But I was determined.
He was right, of course, and I knew it. It was the nature of despots, anarchists, and a past king or two. Power and greed.
Yet, I refused to be part of it, or to make such destruction any easier by returning the plans.
There was no need to explain further.
