“No one can be trusted.”
“My cynical angel,” he said fondly, reaching out to brush a knuckle across her cheek. Her tiredness dissolved into a smile, and the atmosphere between them turned sugary with adoration.
“Itisthem!”
They looked up, startled, at the spirited exclamation from diners across the room. Two women in matching blue dresses were pointing spoons at them; at another table, a pair of octogenarian gentlemen whispered and giggled.
Devon and Beth barely had time to sigh wearily before they found themselves surrounded by diners requesting autographs, a glimpse of the caladrius, advice on how to become anorthonogonist, and the date of their wedding. Breakfast arrived in the middle of this, but enjoying it proved impossible. Inn staff joined the diners, and between their enthusiastic clamor and the chairs beginning to sprout green buds in an untimely show of avian magic, neither of them noticed a man entering the room. Only when he slipped through the crowd to seat himself at their table did they realize.
“Herr Oberhufter!” Beth gasped.
“Guten Morgen, Miss Pickering,” Oberhufter replied, tipping his hat. “Lockley. I’ve come for the caladrius.”
“Oh sure,” Devon said sarcastically. “We’ll just hand the bird over to you; it’s no problem whatsoever.”
“You will hand it over,” Oberhufter agreed. “As for there being no problem…”
He raised a pistol, aiming it at Beth’s face. “I guess that part’s up to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
While you’re watching the starling in the field, remember that a hawk may be watching it too.
Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm
The crowd ofonlookers whispered avidly as the three ornithologists stared at each other with a professional degree of enmity.
“Point that gun away from Miss Pickering,” Devon said, chillingly calm, “or you will regret it.”
“Fair enough.” Smiling, Herr Oberhufter angled the gun toward Devon instead.
Crash.
Everyone jolted as Beth stood so abruptly, her chair slammed back against the floor. Face flushed, expression grim, she slammed her fist on the table. Cups and plates rattled violently. The milk jug spilled. Across the table, Oberhufter stared openmouthed with astonishment.
“I beg your pardon,” Beth said coolly. “But I have just about had enough. Put your gun down and get some bloody manners, or I swear I willexpelyou.”
The gun dropped with athunkto the table. Immediately,Devon snatched it, flipped it in his hand, and aimed it right back at Oberhufter.
“Apologize to the lady for annoying her,” he said.
At his commanding tone, the crowd fairly swooned; one elderly gentleman had to be fanned with a chambermaid’s apron.
“Sorry,Fräulein,” Oberhufter muttered, his voice so faint it sounded less German and more like a confederation of sovereign states dreaming of a kaiser.
“Thank you,” Beth said primly. With a polite little nod, she retrieved her chair, sat down, and reached for the cup of tea in front of her, despite it being entirely inadequate for peace at this moment. Drinking from the teapot, however, would have been déclassé. Her hand hurt, her pulse could have outraced aGeococcyx luna tunica(the fastest roadrunner in the West), and her own manners had begun to discuss among themselves putting her into a sanitorium.
Under the table, Devon set a hand on her thigh. A week ago, it would have sent her jumping up out of her chair again, but now she felt instantly calmed by his touch. Forgetting the tea, she set her own hand over his, gently nudging his fingers so she could slide hers between them. From the corner of her eye she noticed him draw in a rather tremulous breath.
“Heiliger Strohsack,”Oberhufter muttered, retrieving a handkerchief from his breast pocket and using it to wipe his forehead. “Women certainly are liberated these days.”
“How did you know where to find us?” Beth asked, making it clear that if he did not answer to her satisfaction, she’d immediately seek out a blackboard and drag her fingernails down it.
“My butler insisted he saw you on the road last night. Ithought it would do no harm to come back and check. Besides…” Reaching out somewhat shakily to the rack at the center of the table, he snagged a piece of toast and bit down on it. “Have you heard how loudly Quirm snores? I say, pass the jam, would you?”
Beth reached automatically for the jam dish but then snatched her hand back. “We won’t be giving you anything today, Herr Oberhufter!”
“Ooh,”said the crowd. They whipped their wide-eyed attention to Oberhufter, but he only shrugged.
