When they reached the other side, Mr. Grimm did not immediately remove his hand either. Luna felt rather unduly conscious of the warmth of his grip as they made their way back down the far sidewalk, until they stood across from the lamppost once more. Only when she bent to put the houndsnose back down did he let her go, and Luna discovered she rather missed the slight pressure of his fingers. But she hastily shook off that feeling and focused on the matter at hand.
The houndsnose began sniffing noisily up and down the sidewalk. It soon caught the scent again and charged around the bend onto St. Aldate’s, then a few more winding turns, before beginning the uphill climb onto King Kybald Row, where thetrolley cars ran on thaumatically-charged lines. At least Lord Bruxley seemed to have stuck to sidewalks for the most part . . . unless the tiger lily had given up its pursuit of Lord Bruxley. How could they possibly guess? It might be wandering at random even now, stalking a new victim. Hopefully it wouldn’t give some poor, unsuspecting soul a fright. Lord Bruxley deserved what he got, but most people don’t deserve to be terrorized by rampaging perennials.
Afternoon faded into evening. This walk was proving rather longer than Luna initially anticipated. She could feel a thin place forming rapidly in the sole of her left shoe, and a seam on her right was starting to gape. Green Mother willing, she’d be able to stuff them with enough cardboard to keep going until she’d saved up for a fresh pair. Mr. Grimm paid a generous wage, of course, but Mrs. Boggs, now she knew there was a money supply on hand, had become quite relentless in her rent-collection endeavors. She kept adding penny charges to simple things, like using the front stairs or wiping one’s feet on the foyer mat. Luna was half-tempted to leave a stash of her earnings buried in Garden, just for safekeeping.
Her shoes had not yet given out entirely, however, when the houndsnose turned off King Kybald into a very posh neighborhood. The kind of neighborhood where tall, brick walls surrounded peaked gables, and the sidewalks were lined with decorative trees, each provided with its own miniature, wrought-iron fence and surrounded by planters of pansies and impatiens.
Luna’s eyes bugged. Even Mr. Grimm let out a little blustering breath between his lips. “I don’t think we’re in Lower Eastside anymore,” he said as the houndsnose led them to a large, white gate over which a gold-plated sign hung, declaring: BRUXLEY HALL - KEEP OUT.
“No, indeed,” Luna agreed, peering through the gate bars. “This is Toff’s Ville, and no mistake!” A long winding drivelay before them through green grounds. Actualgrounds, in the middle of a city! What a thing. Quite extensive too, with little garden bends and avenues and wrought-iron benches tucked away under bowers. If this was indeed Lord Bruxley’s place, well! He did all right for himself, apparently. Didn’t make him any less of an ass.
The houndsnose slipped between the iron rails of the gate and tried to tug its way down the drive, pulling Luna’s arm. She yanked it back, gentle (itwasa flower, after all), but firm. “No, no,” she said, “you can’t go charging in, there’s a good boy.”
Mr. Grimm slipped his hands into his pockets and sighed despondently. “I suppose this is the end of the line.”
“Why is that, Mr. Grimm?”
He pointed to another sign, also nailed to the gate post: NO SOLICITING. “Something tells me, that would include any requests to hunt about the grounds in search of wayward plant life.”
“We could say we’re looking for a lost kitten?”
Mr. Grimm shot her a look. “Do you think the sort of people who live in a place like this would have any use for other people’s lost kittens?”
“You never know. They might be nice.”
At this, Mr. Grimm pointed to the original sign above the gate. “These are Bruxleys,” he said. “Somehow, I doubt it.”
Luna grimaced. Apparently the tiger lily did manage to stay on Lord Bruxley’s heels all the way uptown. She hoped the man hadn’t done anything dreadful to the poor flower, but knew she’d probably better keep such hopes in check.
Picking up the houndsnose—which trembled with eagerness to continue the chase—she absently stroked its yellow head until it calmed. Meanwhile, she surveyed the wall: tall, brick, imposing. And beyond it, what looked to be large hedgerows ofspiky holly bushes. But there! A few yards to the right, a stout tree branch protruded over to shade a portion of the sidewalk.
“That’s the way in,” she said, pointing.
“What?” Mr. Grimm turned his head sharply.
She met his gaze, unflinching. “We can’t come all this way and just give up. One of us will have to climb over and fetch the poor lily.”
His mouth gaped for a moment, opening and closing on a series of silent protests. Finally, he managed: “That would be breaking and entering.”
“Notbreaking,”Luna protested. “I’m not proposing webreakanything.”
“Trespassing then. Bad enough where the aristocracy is concerned. They won’t bother to call the wardsmen, you know. They’ll just feed us to their pigs or something equally grotesque.”
Luna puckered her lips and shook her head. “You’ve been reading too many sensational dime novels, Mr. Grimm.”
“I’ve never read a dime novel in my life.”
“Besides, can you imagine someone like Lord Bruxley keeping pigs?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Look.” Luna turned to face him frankly. “You yourself said we can’t have magical flowers prowling about the city. It would be bad for the shop. We could end up with a Reputation”—she enunciated the capital with emphasis. “Or, worse still, it could bring the SSSD snooping round. No indeed, Mr. Grimm. We’ve got to fetch that flower back, one way or another.” She cast another covert look up and down the street. “I don’t see any security cameras. The Bruxleys are old fashioned, at least.”
“Old fashioned enough,” Mr. Grimm muttered, “they probably have a patrol dragon on the grounds. Fed entirely on solicitors, unwelcome guests, and random folk swept off the sidewalk unawares.”
But Luna merely laughed and slipped the soothed houndsnose into her pocket. Then she marched to the part of the wall over which the branch protruded. Hands on hips, she took the measure of both wall and branch and nodded firmly.
“There’s no two ways about it,” she said. “You’ll have to get me up on your shoulders, Mr. Grimm.”
