gray with grime and dried blood, his tie gone altogether, and his trousers torn.
“Count von Zeppelin?” Claire said softly, rushing to his side. “It is I, Claire, with Mr. Malvern. We shall have you free in a moment.”
From the pocket of his duster, which he had had replaced in Edmonton, Andrew pulled a knife, its lethal blade advertising to everyone that it had been made by Mr. Bowie in the Texican Territory. The ropes parted as if they had been made of pie pastry, and when Claire whisked off the hood, the count gasped and curled up, his knees to his chest, as if to give relief to muscles that had been strained in the other direction to the point of torture.
“Count, are you hurt?” Claire said quickly. “Bones broken, wounds?”
“Nein,” he gasped. “Blood is returning. I shall be … all right in a moment.”
She and Andrew massaged his lower limbs until the blood flowed unobstructed and he was able to stand. “Thank the merciful God you found me. Is there any water?”
Andrew surveyed the barren prison. “Not here, I’m afraid. We shall search the galley once we reach the gondola.”
Half carrying the older man, Andrew helped him down the corridor while Claire went ahead with the rifle-turned-lamp. It took ages to get him down the ladder from the catwalk, but she could tell that with every step, his strength was returning.
They emerged, breathing heavily with exertion, into the navigation gondola.
Three automatons stood there at attention, as if waiting for a command.
Their prisoners were gone.
And so were the Mopsies.
Chapter 25
“Nine, where are the girls?” Claire snapped.
But the automaton remained maddeningly blank and silent, and she resisted the urge to clap a hand to her forehead in chagrin. Of course Alice had designed them to follow orders only. They had no ability to give information. They didn’t even have mouths.
“And where are our prisoners?” Andrew said aloud. “The girls would not have moved them elsewhere, would they?”
“How? And where? We passed through the crew quarters on the way.”
“The engine gondola at the stern?” Then he shook his head. “Never mind. That would be nonsensical.”
“The only logical conclusion is that your prisoners have made off with your little friends,” the count said, heroically resisting the urge to examine the automatons. Instead, he contented himself with, “Are these the work of Fraulein Alice? And they can give no information?”
“No.” Fear had formed a hard ball in her stomach, and Claire was very much afraid she was going to be sick. “We must find the girls at once.”
“And I must return to the Margrethe.” He tugged on one of the sleeves of his dinner jacket, and it came away in his hand. “The crew will be on the point of despair—or worse.”
“Your disappearance and eventual death are meant to provoke an international incident,” Claire told him. “Meriwether-Astor is behind it.”
“Ja, of such I am well aware. The hood they put over my head did not impair my hearing in the slightest.”
“So we have our proof after all,” Andrew said. “The count himself will corroborate what you have to say when you tell the Dunsmuirs, and the crew of the Margrethe can take Meriwether-Astor into custody and return him to Edmonton.”
“Andrew, they cannot. Remember? The Margrethe is grounded.”
“Was sagen Sie?” Von Zeppelin made for the gangway with only the slightest hitch in his stride. Then, when he saw the mighty fuselage of his flagship wilted and flapping, he let out a cry. “I must return— Lady Claire, who is this who comes?”
She crowded behind him on the gangway and leaped to the ground. The night wind caught at her skirts and sent them belling oe$ze="+0ut to the side, the air frigid on her stockinged legs.
Snow’s comin’, whispered the voice of Polgarth the poultryman in the back of her memory.
The Mopsies were running full tilt across the airfield, Tigg right behind them, loaded down with—good heavens, he carried her valise in one hand and the twins’ in the other. Lizzie carried a hatbox by its cord, swinging in the wind of her going, and containing something somewhat heavier than a hat, by the look of it.
“Lady!” Tigg shouted. “You gots to get out o’ here quick!”
“What has happened?”
“I’ll be keelhauled if they catch me.” He dropped the valises and flung himself upon Claire with such force she staggered. His arms went around her in a ferocious hug. “I don’t want to leave you, Lady. Wot’ll I do?”
Good heavens. Why should he be forced to leave her?