“By Jove! That’sdastardly!”
Hippolyta stared at Beth over the stacks of luggage in their hotel suite.“Vanellus carnivorus?”she exclaimed. “It’s a miracle no one was killed. Oberhufter has gone too far this time!”
“Absolutely!” Beth agreed, looking around for a pot of tea to soothe her jangling nerves. She couldn’t seem to stop recalling the danger she’d just been through: Devon Lockley’sflashing grin, the feeling of his hand over her mouth, and, oh yes, the deadly lapwing that had tried to slaughter them.
“I will be speaking to the authorities upon arriving in England!” Hippolyta declared. “Criminal behavior cannot be tolerated.”
“Yes,” Beth said. And when Hippolyta glanced at her oddly—“Er, I mean no?”
Hippolyta’s eyes narrowed. “You seem discombobulated, Elizabeth. Your hat is askew, to say nothing of your vowels.”
Beth checked again for a pot of tea, or a cup of tea, or even a tea bag she could chew on at this point. “Being chased by a carnivorous—”
“It is that Cambridge professor, isn’t it? That Devil Lovely.”
“Devon Lockley,” she tried to say, but Hippolyta was already half a sentence ahead of her and moving fast.
“He is a blighter. I heard he spent the past few years in America and only recently transferred to Cambridge. Apparently the Yankees gave him a scholarship when he was fourteen, on account of his genius.”
“Genius,” Beth scoffed.
Hippolyta nodded in agreement. “Those upstarts wouldn’t recognize true genius if I gave a lecture in San Francisco’s Palace Hotel. It’s no wonder he’s so arrogant. Mark my words, Elizabeth, there’s nothing worse than a conceited person! Besides, he may have been born innocent,” (she sounded dubious as to this) “but anyone associated with Oberhufter is soon corrupted. The way he stole the caladrius call from you—”
“The Fotheringham ladies did that.”
“Cahoots!” Hippolyta shouted. Then recollecting that complete phrasing was usually helpful: “They were in cahoots witheach other, I am sure of it. They and Lady Trimble and the whole diabolical cadre of bird snatchers.”
Beth did not point out that she and Hippolyta belonged to the same cadre. The first unspoken rule when it came to Hippolyta Quirm was that honesty seldom represented the best policy. (The second rule: it wasteain her silver flask, regardless of smell, color, or that half-empty bottle of rum sitting on the shelf. Which also handily illustrated rule one.)
“I’m certain you are right,” she murmured with only the smallest twinge of conscience. Devon might be guiltless in this matter, but she did not like the man, nor respect him, nor desire in the slightest to slide her hand through his wayward black hair. He was a bird-stealing fiend, never mind his various charms! They were fiends too, the whole lot of them! And she was a mature, sensible woman, despite the evidence of this paragraph.
She sighed, her heart drooping.
“Buck up, dear!” Hippolyta boomed. “I have—we have a caladrius to catch, and no unscrupulous men shall stop us. Fortune favors not only the brave but the decent and honorable!” She thrust out her hand sidelong, palm up. “Ticket!”
One of the three footmen standing to attention behind her stepped forward with a small card, which he placed tremulously in her hand. Hippolyta passed it to Beth.
“Here is your train ticket. The hotel maid has packed your things, although there is still much to organize before we leave.”
Beth inspected the first-class ticket amazedly. “How did you manage to get this so quickly?”
“I stole it from Oberhufter’s room.”
—
That evening, HerrOberhufter himself, along with a rather weary Devon, departed Hôtel Chauvesouris for the Gare du Nord station. A gentleman of Oberhufter’s caliber does not need anything so trifling asticketsto secure passage on a train. (Especially if he blackmails the railway company president into giving him free travel.)
They proceeded along the seventh-floor corridor toward an elevator, trailed by their butler, valet, and two footmen pushing a luggage trolley. Dinner had been a light, hasty affair, and Oberhufter was munching on an emergency cheese sandwich as he walked. But as the elevator door opened before them with a jauntybing, the sandwich drooped, half its contents falling to the floor.
“Mein Gott!”Oberhufter shouted.
“Huh,” Devon added more succinctly.
Misses Fotheringham lay moaning on the floor of the elevator chamber, bestrewn with lapwing feathers. The bird itself was nowhere to be seen.
“What happened here?” Herr Oberhufter demanded.
A Miss Fotheringham hauled herself to her knees. “Masked man in a black suit,” she said, spitting a feather from her mouth. “Attacked us. Took the lapwing. Sister, are you alive?” She grasped the other Miss Fotheringham’s shoulders, shaking her.
