The Baker Street Irregularity
“En garde!” cried Ardsley Wooster. Two rapiers glittered and clashed, and Ottokar von Luftschiff the Jäger looked up, despite himself, from the atlas in front of him.
It was a good bout, and by the time it finished both combatants were panting with exertion and mopping their brows. “Very well done, Miss Davenport,” said Mr Wooster approvingly. “You came extremely close to hitting me twice, and your parrying is getting a lot better.”
“Ja, vos great,” added Ottokar, who had learned to fence back in his Army days, when he was human. It seemed a very long time ago now, but he had not forgotten any of his military skills.
Alice Davenport flopped down next to Ottokar. “Thanks, but in this weather I think I'd really rather be looking at an atlas. Any chance we could open another window?”
Mr Wooster grinned. “Ottokar doesn't need to learn to fence, and you don't need to learn British geography. But, yes, certainly we could open another window. Shall we take a break and go and get a cup of tea before we do any more work?”
“That would be all right, but I think I should like a glass of lemonade even better,” said Alice.
“Me too,” agreed Ottokar. “Is too hot. Is London alvays like dis?”
“In August, yes, pretty much,” replied Mr Wooster. He opened two more windows. “A bad month to start your training, I suppose; but on the other hand, you are going to need to be able to work in all sorts of conditions.”
“Dere should be somevun selling lemonade in de schtreet,” said Ottokar. “Hyu vant me to go und get some?”
Mr Wooster nodded. “Not a bad idea. Here's a shilling. That should easily fill the big pitcher in the kitchen. I expect we'll be needing it.”
Ottokar nodded, and went off downstairs to the tiny, cramped kitchen. This was one of those anonymous government buildings which could be found, if you knew what you were looking for, in various corners of London; the ground floor was occupied by a row of shops, and most people, if they gave the slightest thought to what might be happening on the upper floors, assumed they were offices. Well, parts of them were, of course. Mr Wooster himself had an office in this building, and so did his administrator. Other parts... not so much. The gymnasium where the fencing practice had just been going on was not very like an office.
The big pitcher stood in a niche, a relic of the days not so long past when the building had not had piped water and it had been necessary to trot out to the pump, which still stood at the corner of the street. He took it and descended the rest of the way to the street. As he had suspected, a lemonade stall had materialised in response to the weather.
The man on the stall was short, bald and cheerful, and reminded Ottokar very slightly of his good friend Charles Greenwood. The sight made him wonder, not for the first time, if he had done the right thing. He had been working very happily as general assistant and bodyguard to Charles and his wife Hilde until Mr Wooster had persuaded him that it would be a good idea for him to train as an agent himself. Charles and Hilde were agents, although, being sparks, they were in a different branch of the Service; that was why they needed a bodyguard. But they, too, had thought it was a good idea that he should go and be trained. They had asked Mr Wooster if he could be reassigned to them on completion of his training, and Mr Wooster had said he would certainly do his best, although they were very short of agents at the moment. That was a little less definite than Ottokar would have liked, although he did appreciate the position Mr Wooster was in.
Two things, in the end, had swung it. The first was that the Greenwoods were not going to be far away, at least at first. They were going to be investigating something in Lewes, which meant that they could easily come for a visit once they had solved their case. Hilde had also promised to write regularly, which she had indeed been doing. And the second thing was the nature of the training itself. Ottokar was being offered the opportunity to learn a lot of things which would be of general use, under the tutelage of someone he respected and liked, and at the expense of the British Crown. That last aspect had puzzled him when he had started to think about it, since after all he was still a foreign national, even though he seemed to have settled here by default. But, being a Jäger, he tended to be direct, so he had asked Mr Wooster about it straight out, and Mr Wooster had replied with equal candour that Her Britannic Majesty thought it would be useful to have a few Jägers in the Service. Ottokar could not fault the royal logic on that one; there was no doubt that he had already made himself useful to it prior to becoming a member.
Besides, he liked this place. It was a haven of peace and tranquillity by comparison with the chaotic hellhole he had left, and, besides, people were much more inclined to accept him for who he was, despite his potentially alarming appearance. Oh, there were always those who were immediately frightened before he even had a chance to open his mouth; there was no getting away from that sort anywhere. But at least here there was a tradition of accepting eccentrics, as they liked to call it. People who didn't fit into what was called “normal”. Sparks, for instance.
Jägers.
“What was that, sir?” asked the stallholder. He didn't sound like Charles. He had a Cockney accent, for one thing.
“Ho, ja,” said Ottokar. “Sorry. Hy vos distracted. Can hyu fill dis up for me?”
The stallholder estimated the volume with a practised eye. “That'll be eightpence, sir.”
“Is fine.” Ottokar handed over the shilling. “Too hot today. Bet hyu doing a goot trade.”
“You bet your life, sir. They say it's going to last another week before it breaks, too.”
“Hmpf,” said Ottokar. “Hy vould love a goot tunderschtorm.”
“Each to their own, sir,” said the stallholder, handing him his change. “I'm rather hoping it breaks gently. My wife doesn't like thunder. Nearly got struck by lightning once, sir, up on Hampstead Heath, and she's never been happy around it since.”
“If hyu make enough money, maybe hyu buy her a lightning rod?”
“Could do worse, sir. Could do worse. There you go, now. Enjoy it!”
Ottokar carefully carried the full pitcher back up to the gymnasium, where Alice was sitting by one of the windows fanning herself energetically. “I'm really not sure why I bother,” she was saying. “It doesn't seem to make a lot of difference. The air's just as hot outside... oh, Ottokar! Thank you. That looks just what the doctor ordered.”
Ottokar set it down on the window sill. “Hyu velcome. Here hyu change, Mister Vooster. Hy yust go and get some glasses.”
The lemonade was not very cool, but it was fresh and delicious. No doubt the vendor had got up early in order to secure the best lemons from Covent Garden market. They all drank their fill, and then Mr Wooster pulled on his fencing mask again.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready for autumn,” replied Alice, with a sigh. “All right. But I'm going to want a bath after this.”
When the training session finally came to an end, they finished the lemonade and went down together to the street. By this time, there was a newsboy installed outside the building with a stack of evening papers, and Mr Wooster, as was his habit, bought one.
“Oh my,” he said. “Look. Adelaide Buckingham has been kidnapped.”
“Und who vould she be?” asked Ottokar.
Alice stared at him. “You really don't know?”
“No. Hy not got a clue.”
“Does Buckingham's Buckram mean anything to you?” asked Alice.
“Ho! Dat Buckingham.”
Alice patted her hat. “Exactly. This stuff. The stuff that makes it easy for amateur needleworkers like me to make their own hats. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd been kidnapped by a furious professional milliner.”
“Oh, there's still plenty of demand for their services,” said Mr Wooster, hailing a cab. “After all, it's not cheap, and you've also got to buy the wand to go with it. It's a brilliant idea, though.”
“And probably a very simple idea, if you're a spark,” added Alice.
“Which, of course, she is,” said Mr Wooster. The hansom drew up level with them, and all three climbed in.
“How does it vork, exactly?” asked Ottokar. “Hy know ven hyu buy it, is very soft like muslin, und then hyu use der vand to make it set rigid how hyu vant it. But how does dat happen?”
Mr Wooster shrugged. “How does any spark invention work? She may not even be able to explain it herself. Quite probably she just happened to want a hat when she started sparking. I mean, you've seen Mr and Mrs Greenwood in action. You know what they're like.”
“I could always show you when we get back, and you can see if you can make any sense of it,” Alice offered. “I've still got some. But it is really good – you don't have to steam it or anything.”
“Hy suppose hyu can't undo it?” asked Ottokar thoughtfully. “Hy mean, nobody could vave a vand about und make hyu hat collapse?”
Alice laughed. “Oh no. It locks the fabric permanently.”
Mr Wooster finished instructing the driver, and the hansom pulled out again into the street. At the corner by the pump, a long queue of people waited patiently by the lift leading up to the airship platform; the airbuses were a popular and inexpensive way to get around the city, but at this time of day they were invariably crowded.
“Dis kidnapping business,” said Ottokar, looking meaningfully at Mr Wooster.
Mr Wooster was well capable of reading faces, even if they did happen to be green and endowed with a formidable set of fangs. He shook his head. “No. This one's a police matter.”
Ottokar nodded, with a hint of resignation. To be honest, he was starting to get a little bored. London was an interesting city, but at the moment he seemed to be spending the bulk of his time here with his nose in an atlas. It was fascinating in its own way, but not actually exciting. He felt in need of some excitement. Helping Mr Wooster with a high-profile kidnapping case would have supplied plenty of that.
He and Alice got out at their lodgings, taking their leave of Mr Wooster. They had rooms, and a shared kitchen, in an unpretentious house in Kensington with a faded sign hanging outside which read “Park Hotel”. A smaller sign hooked underneath the first one read “No Vacancies”. It always did; there were never any vacancies at the Park Hotel, even when there were unoccupied rooms. This was a Service house, and members of the public looking for an actual hotel were therefore gently encouraged to move on.
“You know,” said Alice, opening the front door, “I've been thinking. I mean, you always cook. I think I'd like to learn, so that I can do it sometimes.”
“Hyu can't cook?” asked Ottokar, surprised.
“I've never had to,” Alice admitted. “My father had a maid, and she cooked, or sometimes we sent her out to the pub to fetch a meal in.”
“Vell,” said Ottokar, “hy be happy to teach hyu, but not tonight. Tonight is so hot ve yust having salad und cold schtuff. But ven it gets a liddle cooler, maybe ve make a schtart, hey? Or... vait. Ve nearly out of cake. Hy vos going to make anodder vun tomorrow, but maybe hy show hyu how to do it. Cake is easy. Goot place to schtart.”
“Thank you,” said Alice. “I'd really like that.”
It was cooler in the house. The building was old, solidly stone-constructed, and well shaded by the avenue of trees that grew between the pavement and the road. “Phew,” said Alice. “It's good to be inside. How long till dinner?”
“How long hyu vant?” asked Ottokar. “Is very qvick to make.”
“Have I got time for a bath?”
“Hyu go right ahead,” Ottokar replied. “Hy tink hy yust put my feet up for a vhile. Is a new inschtalment of dat schtory by Mister Boz.”
“Excellent! Then I'll go and light the geyser.”
The Park Hotel was the last word in modern comfort. It had hot running water, as well as cold. For most of the year, the fireplaces in the rooms were sufficient to provide all the hot water likely to be used, but in hot weather or when someone wanted a bath, the geyser had to be fired up. This was located in a sort of cupboard next to the bathroom, and it had a firebox underneath it not unlike the one used to power a steam engine. Alice checked the contents, shovelled some more coal into it, and lit it. When she was satisfied that she had a good blaze going, she closed the front of the box again and went to her room to select some clean clothes.
Ottokar, meanwhile, settled himself comfortably in his own room with his illustrated magazine. He had become a great fan of “Boz” since first discovering his work, and now he eagerly bought anything that carried his writing. Overhead, the geyser began to rattle into life, sending an assortment of creaking and clanging noises echoing around the entire plumbing system. It was a disturbance, but it certainly beat a zinc tub in front of the fire.
At about the same time, the hansom cab drew up in front of another house a little further from the centre, and Mr Wooster emerged. He walked through his trim little front garden to the door, which was opened deferentially by a fully garbed butler.
“Good evening, sir,” he said.
“Good evening, Gregson. You know, I really think in this weather you shouldn't feel the need to keep your jacket on.”
“Only to answer the door, sir,” replied Gregson. “I would not wish to be seen improperly dressed from the street. It would reflect badly upon the standards of this house.”
Mr Wooster smiled. “I would rather people thought I had inferior standards than that they thought I was cruel to my staff. Please take your jacket off, Gregson.”
“Very good, sir,” replied the butler, nonetheless ensuring the door was closed first. “Oh, and you have a telegram, sir.”
“Thank you.” Mr Wooster picked it up from the little table in the hall and opened it. It contained no indication of the sender, but that was not unusual in the Service.
“KEEP EYE ON BUCKINGHAM CASE STOP HOLMES NOW INVOLVED,” he read.
“H'mm,” said Mr Wooster to himself. “Interesting.”
* * * * *
“But Constance,” said Arthur Buckingham, “we don't need Mr Sherlock Holmes. We have the police doing everything they can. There are police officers all over London, but there's only one of Mr Holmes.”
“She's my sister, Arthur,” replied Constance Temple simply. “There may be only one of Mr Holmes, but he's remarkably clever, and he has very often solved cases which have floored the police.”
“Well, she's also my wife,” said Arthur, unnecessarily. “Believe me, I want her back just as much as you do, but we have to consider resources. What if we pay Mr Holmes and he gets nowhere? Then we'll still have to pay the ransom.”
“You're not paying Mr Holmes,” said Constance. “I am. What I do with my money is my own business.”
Arthur sighed. He was a tall, rangy man with a slight stoop and a well-kept moustache; his sister-in-law was a good deal shorter, but she had a straighter back and an altogether more determined air. “Well,” he said, “I won't argue, Constance. I just hope somebody finds poor Adelaide quickly.”
“I'm sure Mr Holmes will do it,” said Constance. “It's what he does best.”
A footman appeared carrying two visiting cards on a tray. Arthur examined them briefly.
“Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson,” he observed. “They certainly don't waste any time. Show them up, James.”
The great detective proved to be even taller than Arthur; there were heavy dark circles under his eyes betokening a recent lack of sleep, but his eyes themselves were bright and alert. Dr Watson hung back a little behind him. Arthur had heard something about Dr Watson; he was said to be a good doctor, and quite capable of being forceful when his professional judgement demanded it. With Holmes, however, he was clearly quite happy to subside into the background unless called upon directly.
“Mr Buckingham,” said Holmes. “Glad to meet you, sir. And good evening to you, Miss Temple.”
Arthur nodded. “An honour, Mr Holmes. I've heard a great deal about you. Constance here, in particular, speaks very highly of you.” He smiled at his sister-in-law; whatever his personal opinions on the wisdom of employing a private detective at this stage in the investigations, he was nonetheless fond of her and therefore keen to keep matters on an even keel between them. “Please sit down, gentlemen.”
They did. “Now,” Arthur continued, “I expect you'll be wanting to hear exactly what happened.”
“Not quite,” replied Holmes. “Miss Temple gave me all the relevant details on her initial visit. I have come to study the layout of this house, with your permission.”
“Oh! Well, I do have a floor plan, which should help you a great deal,” said Arthur. “I'm an architect by profession. Of course I didn't design this house – it's over fifty years old – but I have a collection of plans I use when training apprentices, and I drew this one up for that purpose. One moment.” He rang a bell, and another footman appeared, this one mechanical. Dr Watson looked startled.
“Mrs Buckingham is a spark, Watson, in case you had forgotten,” Holmes reminded him.
Arthur sent the clank off to find the plan. “I expect you'll still want to look round,” said Constance. “There may be clues to what happened.”
“There may indeed,” replied Holmes, “but I should certainly like to look at the plan first. It will be useful to fix it in my mind.”
The clank returned shortly with the plan in its hands, and Arthur directed it to pass it to Holmes. The detective studied it intently. “So,” he said. “Miss Temple tells me that Mrs Buckingham has her own room. Which one is it?”
“On the second floor,” replied Arthur promptly. “It's the large room that looks out over the back garden. The slightly smaller room next to it is a spare bedroom, and it was unoccupied last night. My room is on the other side of the bathroom, and Constance's room is opposite mine. The room between Constance's room and the spare bedroom is Adelaide's workshop.”
Holmes nodded. “And these smaller rooms on the floor above? Those, I assume, are servants' quarters?”
“That is correct.”
“And the kidnapper, or kidnappers, gained entry via the window?”
“They did,” Arthur confirmed. “It would already have been open in this weather. She would probably never have heard them.”
Holmes looked at him thoughtfully. “You seem very certain of that.”
“Well, they did leave ladder marks in the flower bed below the window, Mr Holmes,” said Arthur. “You can come and see them, if you wish. It must have been a very long ladder, but after all, window cleaners have them.”
“So do firefighters,” added Constance. “There is a fire station not too far from here. I suppose it may be worth asking them if they've had a ladder stolen.”
“And the other thing,” said Arthur, “is that anyone trying to reach her through the house would have had to be crazy. As you see, we have clank servants here. They don't need to sleep.”
“Indeed,” said Holmes, sounding as though he envied the clanks. “Very well. Perhaps you would care to show us Mrs Buckingham's room?”
Arthur obligingly led the way up to the floor above. “I haven't let anyone touch it,” he explained, earnestly. “I knew the police would want to see it as it was.”
“Very good,” said Holmes approvingly.
The bed was obviously unmade, but it showed no sign of any struggle; it looked for all the world as though someone had simply turned back the covers and picked up the unfortunate Mrs Buckingham in her sleep. Holmes frowned and sniffed, but the window was wide open and any trace of a scent must have long vanished.
“What are you looking for, Holmes?” asked Watson.
“Chloroform. Mrs Buckingham does not seem to have resisted her abductors, and that would appear to be the most likely reason. Sadly, I have no way of proving it directly.”
“Unless she was threatened into silence,” said Constance, with a shiver.
“I think you may calm yourself on that score, Miss Temple,” replied Holmes. “She did not even attempt to sit up, as she surely would have done if she had seen anyone approach. She was lifted out of the bed while still lying down.”
“How do you know that?” asked Arthur, impressed despite himself.
“I merely noted the arrangement of the lower sheet. I have made a study of such things,” replied Holmes. “Now, I had better examine the window.”
He did, thoroughly and at some length. He also poked his head out of it and looked first down towards the flower bed, then up towards the roof, then sideways in both directions. When he pulled it back in and turned to face the others, his face was alive with enthusiasm.
“Well!” he said. “We are not dealing with ordinary criminals here. These show very promising signs of intelligence. May I see the flower bed?”
“Certainly,” said Arthur. “Will you take the stairs or the lift?”
“I think I should prefer the stairs,” said Watson quickly. He had recently had the misfortune to get stuck in a lift returning home on the airship bus.
It was, after all, only two flights of stairs, and they were soon all standing on the back lawn looking at the flower bed. The indentations left by the ladder were very clear. Holmes gave them little more than a glance, then laughed unexpectedly.
“Just what I was expecting to find,” he said triumphantly. “Your wife's kidnappers are clever, Mr Buckingham, but they are not as clever as I am.”
“What do you mean?” asked Arthur.
“Just this. The ladder is a deliberate red herring. That was not how they got into your wife's bedroom.” Holmes crouched down, pointing at the impressions. “You see, these are not very deep. If the person who put the ladder here had carried your wife down it, the ladder would have sunk much more deeply into the ground. As it is, the ladder has borne no more than the weight of one person. Yet your wife is missing from her room. We know from the state of the bed that she did not leave by the window on her own; she was picked up, carried, and taken to the window. But she was not taken away via the ladder.”
“An airship?” breathed Constance.
“Indeed. If you care to go and look again at the window, you will see that there are a few strands of rope caught in the bottom of the pane. The rope came through the window from above, not from below. I surmise that the intruder was lowered to the level of the window, pulled himself or herself in along with a second rope, chloroformed Mrs Buckingham, lifted her out of bed, and tied the second rope around her so that she could easily be hoisted up to the airship. That suggests that we are dealing with, at the very least, three people: one to pilot the airship, one to enter the room and kidnap Mrs Buckingham, and another down below to plant the ladder.”
“Why would they take the trouble to make it look as though a ladder had been used?” asked Watson.
“Because, my dear Watson, any criminal in London can easily obtain a ladder, but it is not such a simple matter to get hold of an airship,” Holmes explained. “It is quite possible that the ladder they used is still on the premises. Any ladder would do. It need not have been long enough to reach a second-floor window; all that was required of it was to leave a pair of convincing impressions in the soil.”
“Ingenious,” said Arthur.
“Elementary,” said Holmes.
“Hardly that, Mr Holmes, with respect,” said Arthur. “The police noticed none of this.”
“The police have their methods. I have mine,” replied Holmes, with a pardonable touch of pride. “Well, now. I believe I have seen almost everything here that is necessary, for the moment. This narrows the field down quite effectively. There is just one more thing I should like to see, if I may.”
“The ransom note?” asked Constance.
“Precisely, Miss Temple.”
“Certainly,” said Arthur. “If you'd just like to come back up to the sitting room, I can show it to you.”
They trooped back up to the first floor, and Arthur unlocked a desk drawer and produced a long blue envelope. Holmes examined it carefully before proceeding to the contents. “How was this delivered?” he asked.
“The maid says a boy brought it, but she couldn't describe the boy,” replied Arthur.
Holmes shrugged. “No more than I expected, but sometimes the question is worth asking.” He took out a small pair of tweezers from a pocket and extracted the note delicately.
“You don't need to be so careful, Mr Holmes,” said Arthur. “The police have already seen it and checked for fingerprints. Nothing, of course. The criminals all know about that these days, and so they wear gloves.”
“Ah, so that would explain the traces of powder,” observed Holmes. “Good. They are becoming more thorough.” He unfolded the note. “H'mm. The usual trick.”
The note was made up of words cut from newspapers. It read: “If you wish to see your wife again, bring £10,000 to this location at 9.30 pm on the 21st. Come alone. Do not call the police.” Below it was drawn a crude map showing a location near the docks.
“So, of course, you did call the police,” said Holmes.
“As a matter of fact, no,” replied Arthur. “That was rather taken out of our hands. My wife's maid came in early with a cup of tea, found that her mistress had gone, ran round looking for her, ran back into her room in case she had been there all along, and panicked. She screamed, and the butler, not knowing what was going on, ran out into the street and buttonholed the constable on beat duty. Thankfully, that was accurately reported in the papers.”
Holmes raised an eyebrow silently.
“That is quite true, Mr Holmes,” Constance assured him. “I know it sounds as though we're trying to persuade the kidnappers that we haven't broken the terms that they unilaterally laid down, but it is nonetheless what happened. You can talk to both the maid and the butler if you wish.”
“The butler thought the maid had surprised an intruder,” added Arthur. “She isn't normally inclined to scream, and she sounded terrified. I heard her myself.”
“I should think the whole street did, Arthur,” said Constance. “Gave me quite a turn. I dropped my hairbrush.”
“I think I should like to speak to this maid,” said Holmes.
The maid was sent for, and shown into a small library with Holmes and Watson. “Now,” said Holmes. “My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is my friend and colleague Dr Watson. Your name, please?”
“Katya, sir.”
“You are Russian?”
The maid nodded. “Yes, sir. My full name is Ekaterina Ivanovna Burova.”
“I understand,” said Holmes, “that you are the person who first discovered that Mrs Buckingham was missing. Could you tell us how that happened?”
Katya swallowed. “Yes, sir. I always bring her a cup of tea first thing in the morning. I went in with it as usual, and she wasn't there. I didn't worry at first, sir, because I thought she might be in her workshop; she's a spark, and you know how sparks tend to work unusual hours. But she wasn't in there. I couldn't find her anywhere. I went back to her room, wondering if she'd taken it into her head to go out for a walk or something, with it being such a beautiful morning. I thought perhaps I'd better take her tea back downstairs and let someone else drink it before it got cold, and then make her a fresh one.”
“So you weren't worried about her at that stage?” asked Holmes.
“No, sir. As I told you, she's a spark. Sparks aren't predictable. They do odd things. It never occurred to me that she might be in any danger until I screamed.”
Holmes stared at her curiously. “Does that not normally happen the other way round?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Katya. “But whatever happened, it was not normal. I was just about to pick up the tea when suddenly I felt very dizzy and sick, and there were... colours, and strange voices. Men's voices, with very heavy German accents. I couldn't hear what they were saying. It was like suddenly having a snippet of dream, or maybe of nightmare, while I was fully awake. That was when I screamed, and that was when I realised that something was really wrong. As soon as I started screaming, though, the dream, or whatever it was, stopped. Just like that. As though it had been turned off like a tap.”
Holmes was frowning. “And you connected this... fugue, let us call it... with Mrs Buckingham?”
“Yes, sir. Don't ask me why, because I can't explain it. But I'm quite sure it had something to do with the mistress, and the more I reflect on it, the more I think so.” She must have caught a glimpse of something in either his expression or Watson's, because she added defensively, “And I'm as sane as either of you, sir. I'm not accustomed to seeing colours or hearing voices, and when I did, I didn't confuse them with what was really in the room. I knew they weren't physically there, sir.”
“And is this the first time anything like this has happened to you, then?” asked Holmes, quieting Watson with a quick impatient gesture.
She nodded. “Yes, sir. I'll swear it.”
Holmes gave her a thoughtful look. “You certainly give every appearance of sanity,” he said. “Now, Dr Watson, I realise you've been itching to give your professional judgement. Perhaps you would like to honour us with it now?”
“Only to say I agree with you, Holmes,” replied Watson. “This young woman has had an extraordinary experience, but she has also recounted it coherently and kept it clearly distinguished from events taking place in the real world around her. She is sane. What happened to her is, perhaps, less so.”
“Do you have any medical explanation for it?” asked Holmes.
Watson shook his head decisively. “No. Not unless, Miss Burova, you have recently suffered a sharp blow to the head or similar injury.”
“Nothing of that kind, Doctor,” the maid assured him.
“Then the explanation is not medical,” said Holmes. “As to what it may be, I confess I am quite as much in the dark as you are at the moment.
“When you find it, sir,” said Katya, “please, would you mind very much telling me what it is?”
“I shall make a point of it,” Holmes promised. “I imagine it was quite a frightening experience.”
“Very, sir,” she said, with feeling.
As they walked out into the street, Watson said, “What on earth do you make of all that, Holmes?”
“A most interesting puzzle, my dear Watson,” Holmes replied. “As yet, though, I think we have nowhere near all the pieces.”
* * * * *
The next day dawned a little cooler, to the relief of most people, with the possible exception of the man with the lemonade stall. Ottokar was already in the kitchen cooking breakfast when Alice wandered in.
“Goot morning!” he said cheerfully. “Hyu schleep vell?”
“Not very,” Alice admitted. “I was too hot and I kept waking up. How about you?”
“About de same, but is hokay,” replied Ottokar. “Ve don't need as much schleep as hyu.”
“At least there seems to be a bit of a breeze this morning,” said Alice. “That makes a difference. I hope it keeps up.” She sat down at the table. “Any letters this morning?”
“No. Hy tought ve might get vun from Hilde today, but dey probably busy doing schpark schtuff.”
Alice sighed. “I hope that's all it is.”
“If dey get into danger, hy sure Mister Vooster vill tell us,” said Ottokar.
“I'm not,” replied Alice. “Not because I doubt Mr Wooster. Mr Wooster is conscientious, and he's also brilliant at what he does. But he can't know everything all the time. He's like that clank Charles made, the one who turned out to be so good at juggling. The difference is that Mr Wooster doesn't juggle coloured balls, or glass bottles, or Indian clubs, or even torches. He juggles missions. Assignments. Plots. Ultimately, people's lives. Including his own, of course. No wonder he's so serious. He can never afford to relax in case he drops something.”
“Mister Vooster is notting like dat damn schtupid clank,” Ottokar protested. “Ja, it yuggled very vell, but dat vos all it could do.”
“Well, anyway,” said Alice. “You see what I'm driving at. Are those muffins you're toasting there?”
Ottokar grinned. “Hyu bet hy toasting muffins. Vot hyu vant vit dem?”
“Have we still got any greengage jam?”
“A liddle. Maybe enough for about two muffins.”
“That's fine. I can't eat more than two. Unless you want some as well?”
“No. Hy having de lemon curd. Und dis.” He pointed to the contents of the frying pan; as usual, they seemed to be mostly mushrooms. Ottokar loved mushrooms, especially for breakfast. “Hyu vant some?”
“It smells lovely, but not in this weather. It's still too hot for a cooked breakfast,” Alice decided. “I really hope Mr Wooster has something a little less energetic than fencing planned for today. Apart from the heat, everything aches.”
“It vill. Shows hyu doing it right. But don't vorry. It gets easier.”
“I hope so!”
The doorbell rang. Collins, the elderly caretaker who also functioned as general factotum around the place, went to answer it; his slow, deliberate tread was audible from where they were. A few moments later, Mr Wooster himself appeared in the kitchen.
“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” he said, “but we have what you might call a situation.”
“Are Charles and Hilde all right?” asked Alice.
“Absolutely fine, as far as I know,” Mr Wooster reassured her. “It's completely unrelated to them, you'll be glad to hear.”
“Vell, even if de vorld's ending, ve need breakfast,” said Ottokar. “Hyu vant some? Hy can do some extra muffins.”
“The world is not ending,” replied Mr Wooster, “and thank you for your kind offer, but I did make a hasty breakfast on the way over here.”
“So what exactly is going on?” asked Alice.
“Well,” said Mr Wooster, “I take it you've heard of Mr Sherlock Holmes?”
They both nodded.
“Last night I was informed that he'd taken on the Buckingham case. This morning, I find that he has disappeared.”
Alice and Ottokar looked at each other. Ottokar asked, “Is he vun of ours?”
“Great Scott, no,” replied Mr Wooster. “I think the best way of putting it is that Mr Holmes is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a team worker. On the other hand, he is undoubtedly a national asset. He is regularly consulted by important foreign potentates. Rumour has it that Baron Wulfenbach himself has had occasion to use his services more than once. Therefore, if Mr Holmes disappears, the Service is... interested.”
“Ja, und hy as interested as anyvun, but hy hope hyu don't mind if ve eat,” said Ottokar.
“Of course not. Please carry on,” said Mr Wooster.
“So what happened?” asked Alice. “I take it we're clear he didn't just vanish of his own accord in order to follow up a lead? I've heard he's a master of disguise.”
“He is, but there's no doubt on this occasion,” replied Mr Wooster. “He slipped out early, leaving a note for his landlady to say that he would be back by half past six. He is not in the habit of leaving notes like that for Mrs Hudson unless he knows he is going into danger. She gave him until a quarter past seven, and then alerted the police, who promptly contacted me.”
“Do ve know vhere he vent?” asked Ottokar.
Mr Wooster shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. It would make things a good deal easier if we did. So... we're just going to have to find him.”
“We?” asked Alice.
Mr Wooster smiled. “Well, you are the only two agents who are free at the moment, and I'm free in a manner of speaking because I have the time booked for the purpose of training you, so... yes. We.”
Alice grinned. “Splendid! Much as I'm enjoying the fencing, I have to say I'm glad of a change today.”
“Ja! Real vork. Is goot,” said Ottokar, through a mouthful of fried mushrooms.
“I'm glad you're both so enthusiastic, because we need to get going as soon as you've finished eating,” said Mr Wooster. “We need to see Dr Watson before he starts his surgery this morning. If he hasn't disappeared too, of course.”
Dr Watson had not disappeared, though he was naturally upset to discover that his friend had. He clearly knew Mr Wooster already; when introduced to Alice and Ottokar, he viewed the latter with a curious mixture of emotions including both minor anxiety and extreme medical curiosity. He was, however, unfailingly polite, so he cleared all the extraneous emotions out of his face with some effort and declared himself delighted to meet both of them. He was, however, half angry with Holmes.
“If he knew he was going into danger,” he said, “he could at least have taken me. I'm an old military man. Danger is something I'm used to.”
“Hy vos in der Army, too,” said Ottokar. “Hyu ever fight on de Continent?”
“No,” said Watson. “There's danger, and then there's danger.”
Ottokar nodded. “Is vy hy a Jäger now. It vos all very dangerous. Hy found some of de potion und tought, dis vun hy vin, vhichever vay it goes. Hy might die und den not have to vorry about de chaos any more, or else hy get to be a Jäger und hy can deal vit de chaos.”
“You just found it?” asked Watson curiously. “I thought people had to be chosen to become Jägers.”
Ottokar shrugged. “Normally. But hy vos running avay, und hy vent und hid in dis veird building, und dere it vos.”
“Brave of you,” said Watson admiringly. “You do know there's a third possibility?”
“Ho ja. Sometimes hyu don't die but it really messes hyu up.” He shrugged. “If dat happened, hy had a knife.”
“You're very philosophical,” said Watson. “I'd love to talk to you more later, but right now we need to find Holmes. What got into him, to rush off like that on his own?”
“It was very early in the morning, you need your sleep, and it's quite probable he didn't want to put you into danger too,” replied Mr Wooster. “And, in fact, you are much more useful to him here than wherever he is. You may be able to give us some vital clues that will lead us to him.”
“I certainly hope so, Mr Wooster,” said Watson. “Well, as I think you know, we're working on the Buckingham case at the moment.”
“Yes,” said Mr Wooster. “Please tell us what you know about that. When a detective goes missing, the first point of investigation is generally the case they're currently working on. Criminals tend to get rather twitchy when they know someone like our Mr Holmes is on their tail.”
“And with good reason,” Watson agreed. “He has a remarkable talent, and therefore of course he has enemies in the underworld. These ones seem to have either more money or better organisational skills than most.” With that, he launched into an account of the events of the previous evening.
“That's very interesting,” said Mr Wooster, when he had finished. “And if Holmes' disappearance is connected with the Buckingham case, someone must have worked uncommonly fast. I think it's unfortunately possible that one of the servants has been bribed.”
Watson nodded. “That has occurred to me. Either someone in the house carried information to the kidnappers, or there's another possibility. When Holmes came out with his deduction about the airship, we were standing out in the garden. Someone could have been listening outside.”
“Is it a big garden?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Yes, but that doesn't matter,” replied Watson. “There's a path running alongside it, between the Buckinghams' garden and that of the house next door. There's quite a high hedge. Anyone could have been standing behind it, listening to every word Holmes said.”
Ottokar was frowning. “Dat maid,” he said. “Hy tink she impawtent. Tell me again vot it vos she saw.”
“She said she saw colours and heard voices, but she couldn't hear exactly what they were saying. And then it was all cut off suddenly,” said the doctor. “Oh! And I forgot to tell you the first time round, but she said the voices were male and had heavy German accents.”
“Yerman accents? Dat is interesting. Very interesting.”
Watson looked at him curiously. “Do you think she saw something real?”
“Is qvite likely. After all, she does vork for a schpark.”
Watson blinked.
“You're not used to sparks, then, Doctor?” asked Alice. “I think Ottokar is probably quite right. He's been working for two of them. He is very well used to the odd things that tend to happen around sparks.”
“Hy vant to see dat maid,” said Ottokar. “Hy preddy sure she got a schpark gadget. Even if she got no idea vot it really is.”
“Very well,” said Mr Wooster. “The maid goes on the list, then. But we have some other things to do first.”
Ottokar grinned. “Like, hyu mean, find some pipple vit heavy Yerman accents?”
“You look as though you have an idea for doing that,” said Alice.
“Vell, hy hate to mention de obvious, but...”
“Well, yes,” said Alice. “You have a heavy German accent. We can all hear that. How does that help you find other people with the same accent?”
“Let me put it anodder vay,” said Ottokar patiently. “How many pipple have hyu met in London vot have an accent like mine und vot aren't Jägers?”
“Um... none, now you mention it,” said Alice.
“Right,” said Ottokar. “Hy reckon hy need to go und look for Jägers.”
* * * * *
Every minority in London has always had at least one place where it can gather together, speak its own language where applicable, and generally let its collective hair down. The Jägers were a very tiny minority; the best estimate was that there were no more than two hundred and fifty of them in the whole city. Some of them worked on construction sites or as security guards, but most commonly they worked on the docks, where their extreme strength and hardiness made them perfect for loading and unloading cargo. They were paid better than their human colleagues, for two reasons: partly it was because they were able to work a great deal better, but mostly it was because even the toughest dockmaster found it difficult to argue with a pack of Jägers who felt they were being insufficiently rewarded for their efforts.
They too, like all the other minorities, had their own place. Naturally it was near the docks, but it was not just the dock workers who went to Drauka's Bug Bar. Every Jäger in the city went in at one point or another. Even Ottokar was a semi-regular there, despite being a vegetarian and therefore unable to appreciate Drauka's special tangy ant patties and other traditional dishes.
That had gone down rather badly at first. He had been laughed at by a tough group of dockers who had never heard of such a thing as a vegetarian Jäger before, and the inevitable brawl had ensued. Ottokar was no coward and enjoyed a good fight as much as any other of his kind, but nonetheless it had been four against one, and the result had appeared a foregone conclusion until two unexpected things happened. The first was that Drauka herself came and weighed in on his side; it turned out that she had taken quite a shine to him and his “yentlemanly” manners. And the second was that one of the older Jägers, who had been sitting at the bar regarding him silently and thoughtfully, cleared her throat and pointed out to anyone who might care to listen that he was wearing the trilobite of the House of Heterodyne on his shako.
That, of course, had meant that Ottokar was now surrounded by people who wanted to ask him a lot of questions rather than punch his lights out. Sometimes, people who wanted to punch your lights out were easier, especially when you couldn't really answer the questions they were asking. He actually had no idea why he had been sent the trilobite shako plate, and he could hardly tell them that it had arrived via Mr Wooster. All he could tell them was that it had been given to him through an intermediary.
This was not the most satisfactory answer he could have given, but when everyone finally accepted that it was the only one he was able to give, it gained him at least a certain standing in the group. He had already heard vague rumours of a Heterodyne heiress, and they were amply confirmed here. He learned that her name was Agatha, and that Baron Wulfenbach's son and heir Gilgamesh was said to be deeply in love with her. Whether or not she reciprocated was a point of lively and sometimes raucous debate. Drauka's clientele decided that Ottokar must have the special favour of “the Mistress”, for some reason none of them could fathom, and so, vegetarian or no, even those who were not inclined to be friendly treated him with cautious respect.
Ottokar had no idea why “the Mistress” might favour him. As far as he was aware, he had never even met her. Daggy, who was the best informed of the crowd, was able to give him a basic description of Lady Heterodyne; it appeared that she had a friend called Maxim who was actually travelling with her, or at least had travelled with her at some point. Ottokar was aware that some parts of the description might have become garbled in the retelling, but nonetheless he was fairly clear that he had never met a young woman with a mass of golden hair that always stuck up at the back, no matter what she did with it.
And then, a week after the trilobite incident, something else had happened which had raised his status still further, to something approaching Resident God. The chef and the bottle-washer had got into a fight. This, apparently, happened all the time and was normally nothing to worry about, except that on this occasion the bottle-washer had struck a freak blow and knocked the chef out cold. Drauka had been so angry that she had done the same to the bottle-washer, and then, of course, immediately regretted it. There were plenty of volunteers to stand in for the bottle-washer, but nobody, it turned out, felt at all confident to cook all evening for a crowd of Jägers... except, of course, for Ottokar, who had been an Army cook and was therefore well used to it.
Drauka had demurred at first. A vegetarian chef in a Jäger bug bar? But Ottokar had convinced her that, although he never ate meat himself, he was both willing and able to cook it. Bugs, admittedly, were new to his repertoire, but he had never been shy of a challenge. And since there was really no other alternative, Drauka had let him into the kitchen, and the results had been such a success that she would have sacked her original chef on the spot if Ottokar had shown the slightest sign that he might be tempted into the job.
So Drauka now owed him a favour, and on this bright sunny August morning he arrived at the bar to claim it.
The bar was not open yet, but when Drauka saw who it was, she did not feel inclined to stand on ceremony. “Schveethot!” she exclaimed. “Goot to see hyu. Ve missed hyu last night.”
“Ach,” said Ottokar. “It vos too hot to go out.”
“Vell, ja,” Drauka admitted. “It did get preddy varm in here. Dere vos a goot fight.”
“Ho vell. Anodder time. Hy might also not be in tonight. Probably got to vork late.”
“But hyu here now.”
“Hy vork some schtrange hours,” replied Ottokar, quite truthfully. “But, hyu know, Drauka, hy been hearing some veird schtuff. Is it true dere's some Jägers vot have come into some big money yust lately?”
“Ja,” she said, slowly. “Funny hyu should say dat. Dey vere schplashing it about big time in here last night.”
“Who?”
“Vould hyu believe Bavo und Juri und Helmut?” said Drauka. “Hy mean. Dose tree. Dey got vun brain cell among dem und dey don't alvays remember whose turn it is to have it.”
Ottokar shook his head. “Vow. Some pipple have all der luck. Maybe hyu best not tell dem hy vos asking. Dey not exactly my best friends.”
“No vorries. Hy von't say a ting. Dey also not my best friends, but hy don't tell dem dat, because dey buy lots of beer und schnacks. Especially last night.”
“Hy vos kind of vondering vot dey might be doing to make so much money,” said Ottokar innocently. “Hy mean, if dey can do it, maybe so can hy.”
“Don't hyu even tink about dat,” replied Drauka severely. “Hyu tink hyu de only vun to vonder dat? Everyvun vas asking dem, but dey vouldn't tell, not even ven dey got drunk. All dey said vos dey had a goot boss und dere vere no more vacancies. Hyu vant to know vot hy tink, hy tink dey schtole it.”
“Ve find out soon enough if dey did,” said Ottokar. “Like hyu said hyuself, dey got no brains. Pipple who schteal tings need brains or dey get caught.”
“Vell,” said Drauka, “is up to dem vot dey do, but dey better not get caught schtealing in here. Hy don't vant de place getting a bad name.” She paused. “Und hy don't vant Jägers getting vun. Ve all know dere's goot Jägers und bad Jägers, same as dere is vit any sort of pipple, but ven de bad vuns get caught, dere's alvays humans vot trow up deir hands und go 've knew it'.”
“Ja!” said Ottokar. “Dat's vy hy tink dere should be Jägers in der police. If de goot Jägers catch de bad Jägers, de humans can't say ve all bad.”
Drauka smiled. “Dat's not a bad idea. Vy don't hyu go und yoin? Hy tink hyu'd look qvite someting in der uniform. Ho ja.”
Green people cannot blush, but Ottokar's complexion did darken a little. “Vell, er... hy tink about it,” he managed. Then he recovered himself somewhat, and dutifully added, “Hy bet hyu say dat to all de yentlemen.”
Ottokar was not good at handling flirting. Unfortunately, there is a certain type of person to whom that adds an extra level of attraction, and Drauka was firmly in that category. She simpered at him, which is quite an achievement when you have fangs. “Only hyu,” she purred. “Hyu so schveet!”
“Is very kind of hyu, but hy got to go,” said Ottokar hurriedly.
“Vot, und leave hyu liddle Drauka?”
Ottokar diplomatically refrained from pointing out that Drauka was taller than he was and probably a good stone heavier. Sometimes, he reflected, size was in the mind. “Hy come in next time hy can,” he promised.
“Hokay. But hyu such a tease!” She batted him playfully, almost knocking him over.
Ottokar made as graceful an exit as he could in the circumstances, and hurried to the nearest airbus stop. As the lift rattled upwards, he found himself wishing he had bumped into Daggy instead, and felt rather bad about it. He was friends with both ladies, and more so with Drauka than with Daggy, who could be inexplicably moody at times; but Daggy never flirted, and so she was a great deal easier to deal with. Not that there was any real chance of bumping into Daggy at this time of day. Right now, she would be carrying girders about on the construction site where she was working at the moment.
The airship was not crowded. He rode as far as King's Cross, where he changed to another one that took him straight to the building where they had been training the previous day. Soon, he was in Mr Wooster's office. There was no sign of Alice.
“Ah, good morning again, Ottokar,” said Mr Wooster. “Any success?”
“Ja. Hy got tree names. Bavo, Juri und Helmut vere apparently schplashing der cash around at Drauka's last night.”
“Do you know them?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Sure hy know dem. Not many Jägers in dis city. Ve all know one anodder, even if only a liddle. Dese tree, dey preddy schtupid, so dey don't often get vork. Und now dey telling everyvun dey got really goot vork, but dey don't say vot it is.”
“H'mm. Anything else about them?”
“Ja. Drauka knows dem better dan hy do. She tinks dey probably schtole der money. Hy not so sure about dat. Hy don't tink dey bright enough to schteal.”
Mr Wooster nodded. “They sound like a productive line of enquiry. How do you get on with them yourself?”
“Not dat vell. Dey von't touch me because of de trilobite, but hy don't get de feeling dey like me.” He paused. “Ja. De trilobite. Hy keep meaning to ask hyu about dat, but tings keep happening. Hyu sent me dis.”
“Well, yes. I did,” said Mr Wooster, not sure what Ottokar was driving at. “But can we...?”
Ottokar held up a hand. “In a minute. Hy yust vant dis cleared up first. Vy did hyu send me dis ting? Hy mean, is goot. Hy really prout of it. But vy have hy got it?”
Mr Wooster took a deep breath. “All right. I'll tell you quickly, as long as we go back to talking about your lead immediately afterwards, because that is actually more important at this moment. We are allied with Lady Heterodyne. I have met her personally several times. The last time I saw her, I happened to mention that a Jäger had been very helpful to two of our agents. She wanted to know more about you, and when I told her the story, she gave me that to send to you.”
“Dat vos very goot of her, und hy very honoured,” said Ottokar. “But vy? She does not know Charles und Hilde, or dey vould have talked about her.”
“I don't know the answer to that myself,” Mr Wooster admitted. “But I can make a shrewd guess. Lady Heterodyne knows that there are Jägers in this country, but she knows little about them. The Jägers she does know are loyal to her...”
“Is vun of dem called Maxim?” Ottokar interrupted.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Hy made friends vit vun of his friends. Yust vanted to check it vos true.”
“It's true, all right. The other two regulars, if you like to put it that way, are called Dimo and Oggie. Interesting gentlemen. Anyway, if you want to know, I think she sent you that symbol for two reasons. The more important of the two was that she knew you would appreciate it; she's generous, and she was well disposed towards you, partly for my sake and partly because of Dimo, Maxim and Oggie. But she is also shrewd. I think there was also some political motivation there. She knew you'd wear it on your hat, and she would be very interested to know how that went down with the other local Jägers.”
Ottokar nodded approvingly. “She clever. Mind you, she a Heterodyne. She got to be. Hy hope hyu been telling her dey all respect it?”
Mr Wooster smiled. “Naturally.”
“Und before ve get back to de odder ting,” said Ottokar, “is it true dat she got hair dat schticks up at de back und a lot of... of... er... frontage?”
“Quite correct about the hair, but the frontage may have been exaggerated in the telling,” replied Mr Wooster, deadpan. “She has an hourglass figure, but not disproportionately so.”
“Goot. Because de vay some people have tokked about her, hyu vould tink she vould fall on her face.”
“If there were any danger of that, she would certainly invent some device to keep her upright,” Mr Wooster assured him. “Now, your line of enquiry. You say you don't get on well with them. Do you think it would be a waste of time to try to get in with them, then?”
“Ho ja.”
“I thought so, but I had to check. Very well, then. Would you be able to tail them, or at least one of them if they split up?”
“Ja. Could do dat easy.”
“Then that's what you do tonight. Tell me what you do if they see you.”
“If hy so close dey know hy got to have seen dem, hy vave or say hallo und den valk off like hy vos alvays going somevhere else. If not, hy yust valk avay.”
“Yes, and you do that,” said Mr Wooster, with a touch of severity. “There are three of them, and if they do turn on you, it won't be a good-time Jäger bar brawl where the main casualties are the furniture. It's always better to lose your quarry than to get yourself hurt.”
“Vot made hyu tink hy vouldn't?” asked Ottokar.
“Your tone of voice. Oh, Miss Davenport! Please come in.”
Alice entered, looking tired. “Got something,” she announced. “Mind if I sit down? I must have been over half of London.”
“Please do,” said Mr Wooster. “And now we're all here again, I suggest we go and have lunch in a few minutes. You look as though your tissues could do with some restoration.”
“In full measure,” said Alice. “But first of all, I do believe I've found our airship.”
“Very well done!” exclaimed Mr Wooster. “That one was really puzzling me. As you know, I followed up on all the ones that were reported stolen last night, but they all led to dead ends for different reasons.”
Alice grinned triumphantly. “This one was also stolen. It just wasn't reported.”
“Why not?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Because,” said Alice, who was enjoying herself despite her weariness, “it was replaced tidily after use. The only thing the thieves forgot to do was top up the firebox, or it might never have been noticed at all.” She paused. “It was one of the air buses. I thought it had to be, or someone would have noticed it; but the buses are ubiquitous, and they go slightly off their route all the time. And they run all night, just not very many of them. So I thought maybe someone had, shall we say, possibly decided to borrow one.”
“A good thought,” said Mr Wooster. “How did you verify it?”
“By going round all the main airbus stations and indulging in frivolous gossip,” replied Alice, with a wicked grin. “Nothing doing until I got to Euston, by which time I was very well practised in bringing out my line about whether the pilots weren't tempted to go for joy rides sometimes. And, bingo, I shot straight in the gold. The pilot I was talking to was already furious because she'd had her first flight delayed due to having to fill the firebox; usually someone tops it up as soon as the ship comes in for the night. And then she'd found some peculiar scratches on the steering wheel, which she took extremely personally. The pilots obviously don't own the ships, and because of the shift pattern there's more than one pilot to a ship, but when any pilot is on duty, he or she normally has the same ship. So they get to know all their little quirks, and they get very fond of them, as you'd expect.”
“Scratches,” repeated Mr Wooster. “Like claw marks, perhaps?”
“She didn't say, but she did say they were quite bad scratches,” replied Alice. “She said the whole wheel would have to be sanded down and re-polished to get them out.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar. “Hy vos almost certain, und now hy totally certain. Ve dealing vit Jägers.” He paused. “But not clever Jägers. Is vun ting catching dem... but it might not be so easy to catch de person vot's paying dem.”
* * * * *
After lunch, the three of them returned to Euston, along with one Sergeant Haywood of the Metropolitan Police who had been detailed to meet them there as a result of a message sent by Mr Wooster via a passing constable. It was easy enough to find the bay where the ship had been tethered overnight; it stood high above the adjacent railway station alongside a row of others, and the whole row was accessed by a lift at one end. The lift had an external door that could be locked for security, and it took the sergeant very little time to confirm that it had been recently picked.
“But not by a Jäger, sir,” he assured Mr Wooster. “There are no claw marks round the lock, just these tiny key scratches. Whoever did that was human.”
Mr Wooster nodded. “I'm not entirely surprised. I had already concluded that they had at least one human with them, for a number of reasons. We'd better go up and wait for the ship.”
The airship was called the Plotinus, and it had been summoned back to its bay, ostensibly for some light maintenance, but in reality so that the four of them could investigate it. They reached the long platform that ran alongside the bays, and Alice looked over the safety wall, gazing down at the sunlit city. “Quite a view from here,” she observed.
Ottokar joined her. “Ja. Und a lot of airships. Vhich is ours?”
“No way of telling from here,” replied Mr Wooster. “It should be dropping off its passengers at the public station about now. It'll be here in a few minutes.”
It was. The pilot expertly guided it into the bay, then stepped out onto the platform. She was, of course, the same pilot to whom Alice had been speaking earlier, and she introduced herself as Mrs Ubuobisa. Alice introduced her three companions, and Mrs Ubuobisa nodded, evidently pleased that something was going to be done.
“Vandals,” she complained. “We get them up here occasionally, but this is the first time they've made off with a ship. At least they did bring it back. You want to come and see what they did to the wheel?”
“We should be very interested to see that, madam,” replied Mr Wooster.
Mrs Ubuobisa ushered them on board and showed them up to the cabin. Her co-pilot, a bearded young man who somehow managed to suggest the entire Aesthetic Movement although he was dressed in uniform and thus lacked any of the usual sartorial indicators, stood up politely but languidly to greet them. “Mr Coates,” said the pilot. “Mr Wooster, Miss Davenport, Herr von Luftschiff and Sergeant Haywood.”
“Pleased to meet you,” drawled Coates. “I say, are you all police?”
“Government,” replied Mr Wooster briskly. “Tampering with one of Her Majesty's airships is a serious public safety issue, and we have to investigate it thoroughly.”
“Glad to hear it, sir,” said Coates.
Alice and Ottokar were already inspecting the scratched steering wheel. “Well?” said Alice. “Were we right?”
“Hy should say so,” replied Ottokar thoughtfully. “Jäger claws vould definitely do dat. But is veird. Hy never had to fly an airship, but if hy had, hy preddy sure hy vouldn't schcratch de vheel up like dat.”
“Are there any particular manoeuvres that might cause an inexperienced pilot to grip the wheel especially hard?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Not in the normal course of events,” replied Mrs Ubuobisa.
Alice tried another tack. “Was there anything you had to do when you were learning to fly that you found rather scary?”
“Yes,” said Mrs Ubuobisa at once. “Bringing her into dock. That's probably why I do it so well now. I knew I'd never be a good pilot if I couldn't do that, so I concentrated extra hard on it.”
“And why was that scary?” asked Alice.
Mrs Ubuobisa grinned. “You've never flown, have you? If you get something wrong in the air, you've nearly always got enough room to put it right. But if you dock badly, you're in danger of hitting the platform. You'd have to be going pretty fast to do the ship any serious damage, but you can certainly damage yourself, to say nothing of any passengers. Also, depending on the exact speed and angle of impact, you can bounce off the platform and lose control. Everyone's nervous about it at first, and if they're not, they probably shouldn't be flying.”
“I see,” said Mr Wooster. “Thank you, Mrs Ubuobisa. That was a very helpful explanation.”
They examined the cabin carefully, but found nothing else unusual. “By the way,” said Alice, “who has a key to the lift? Just the pilots and co-pilots, or anyone else?”
“But...” began the sergeant. Alice raised a hand to shush him.
“Most of the staff here,” replied Mrs Ubuobisa. “Pilots, co-pilots, maintenance staff, and I think the senior administrators. And the station manager, but that goes without saying.”
“Thank you,” said Alice.
Once they were all back on the ground, Sergeant Haywood looked oddly at Alice. “Why did you ask about the keys?” he said. “You knew the lock had been picked. It doesn't matter who's got a key.”
“It does, because anyone who had a key wouldn't need to pick the lock,” replied Alice. “That question has just cleared most of the staff at Euston. If you're a criminal wanting to steal an airship, even temporarily, you go for the most convenient one, and if you just so happen to work at an airship station, you've got some very convenient ones right there.”
“You should think about joining the Force, young lady,” said the sergeant, somewhat taken aback.
“She's doing extremely well where she is, Sergeant,” replied Mr Wooster with a smile. “Please report back that we're looking for at least one Jäger, possibly up to three, and at least one human who can fly an airship and teach a Jäger at least enough for them to be able to hold the ship steady close to a building for maybe ten minutes. We don't have any further descriptions yet, but that should at least narrow things down.”
“Und dey may be able to fly an airship, but dey don't vork at Euston,” added Ottokar. “In fact, dey probably don't vork for London Air Transport at all. If dey did, dey could have borrowed anodder ship vitout having to break into a lift.”
Haywood nodded. “Very good, sir. Oh, and the papers have been asked to keep quiet about Mr Holmes, sir.”
“Indeed,” said Mr Wooster. “We can't have a panic. Has anyone asked for a ransom for him yet?”
“Oh! Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Should have mentioned that earlier. The note was actually delivered to the Palace this morning, but it was brought straight to us, of course. The kidnappers seem to think Her Majesty involves herself in such matters as ransom payments.”
Mr Wooster visibly relaxed. “Oh, good. I'm delighted to hear that, regardless of the kidnappers' woeful ignorance of royal protocol. If they want a ransom for him, it means he's alive. I thought they probably would, because he's well known to be a national asset, but there was always that doubt.”
“You don't suppose they kidnapped Mrs Buckingham in order to get him involved, and he was their real target?” asked Alice. “Only this is all rather starting to remind me of the Chatterjee business.”
“It's possible,” said Mr Wooster, “but I'm inclined to doubt it. I understand that Mr Buckingham would never have got Mr Holmes involved in the case if he had been left to himself. It was Mrs Buckingham's sister, Miss Temple, who insisted on calling him in at her own expense.”
“Und ve need to go und call at dat house, anyvay,” Ottokar reminded them. “Ve need to tok to de maid. Ve may as vell tok to der whole lot of dem.”
“But not all of us,” said Mr Wooster. “Sergeant Haywood, have you been there yourself?”
“To the Buckinghams' house? Not me, sir.”
“Good. Then if you should happen to ask a few questions that have already been asked, nobody will think it odd. Your line is that your department has some more questions it needs to ask. Do you think you could introduce Miss Davenport as a plain clothes officer and give her free rein to do whatever talking she feels necessary?”
“Yes, sir. I could do that.”
“Good man. Then please go and do it. Miss Davenport, when you've finished over there, come back to my office. If I'm not there, just wait. Feel free to knock on Mr Tufnell's door; he'll make you a cup of tea if you need one.” He turned to Ottokar, who was opening his mouth to protest. “Yes, I know, but I'm sure you can trust Miss Davenport to ask the right questions on your behalf.”
“You can,” said Alice. “I will make very sure I talk to the maid for you.”
“You and I,” continued Mr Wooster, “have a pilot to catch. Let's go and get a cup of coffee. We need to do some thinking.”
Ottokar grinned. “Hyu sound like Charles.”
“Well, it doesn't cause me to invent things, but I do find I think better when I'm not thirsty,” replied Mr Wooster, returning the smile. “And it is still hot out here. With a bit of luck, it will be cooler indoors.”
They went into one of the larger coffee houses, where it certainly was a lot cooler, and Mr Wooster ordered a pot of coffee between them. “Now,” he said, as they sat down. “There's absolutely no point in running all over London looking for a pilot. We have to use logic here, and you've already done the first step. They don't work for London Air Transport.”
“Vhich is goot, but probably schtill leaves a lot of pipple,” said Ottokar.
“Right. We've got one of two possible scenarios to think about. Either whoever is doing the piloting is also in charge of the whole operation, or they're two separate people. But either way, someone found and paid at least one of the Jägers. So how would that work, do you think? You know the Jägerkin. If a human wanted to recruit some for illegal purposes, how would they best go about it?”
Ottokar considered. “Anyvun who knew anyting vould go down to de docks,” he said. “Is vhere most of us vork.”
“Would they go in Drauka's?”
“Not if dey vanted to come out again,” replied Ottokar. “Is not a place for humans. Dere is fights.” He paused. “Hy mean, ve don't even bring our human friends in. Hy couldn't bring hyu. Und Drauka likes me.” He coughed, embarrassed. “A liddle too much, in fact. Anyvay, point is, no human could yust valk in. Und by der vay, how hyu know a human is involved?”
“Because if the kidnappers had all been Jägers, the chances are that there would have been scratches in the window frame, and Mr Holmes would have noticed,” replied Mr Wooster. “Whoever actually got into the room and did the kidnapping was human.”
“Hokay. Vell, so far ve got a human hanging round de docks looking to employ some Jägers. Ve don't know who dey are or vot dey look like. All ve know is dey can fly an airship, or dey can pay somevun who can.”
“Yes. But the docks are a large area. Where do you think they would go, specifically? If I wanted someone to do some honest work for me, I would go to the labour exchange, but I doubt this person would want to risk that.”
“Now hyu've got me,” Ottokar admitted. “Hy don't know de docks dat well. Except for Drauka's, of course.”
“Well, do you know where your three suspects go when they're not at Drauka's? After all, it looks as though they were the ones who happened to be hired, and our human suspect must have picked them up somewhere.”
“Drauka might know,” said Ottokar doubtfully. “But she not exactly fond of dem.”
Mr Wooster sighed. “Oh, well. Perhaps you'll get a better clue when you track them tonight. I was really hoping we might be able to get a lead from the other end, though.”
“Can't be helped,” replied Ottokar philosophically. “Is vun of dose tings. Big problem is, dey not really got friends except vun anodder. Dat means nobody ve can ask.”
“Of course,” said Mr Wooster, “they do have money to drink at Drauka's regularly. But they don't get a lot of work.”
“Ja, vell, dat's not de kind of ting anyvun asks qvestions about,” replied Ottokar. “Hy mean, if dey up to no goot, is not like anyvun vants to encourage dem, but on de odder hand is also not like anyvun can schtop dem. Is best to give dem de benefit of de doubt until de police show up.”
“Well, quite so. But what I'm saying is, whoever employed them for this job may have done so before. It may not have been a question of someone randomly wandering around the docks looking for Jägers.”
“Hyu talking about gangs? Organised crime?”
“It's a definite possibility. Whoever we're dealing with has money, resources and ambition.”
The coffee arrived, and Mr Wooster thanked the waiter. When he was out of earshot again, Mr Wooster said, “I'm afraid this is probably the point where we have to admit we're going round in circles. I was hoping we might get some ideas by talking it through, but I think it's not going to happen. I shall just have to go the long way round. I'll have Mr Tufnell draw up a list of everyone in London who is a registered airship pilot, and then eliminate all those who are currently working for London Air Transport. I'm afraid it will be a tedious job, and he won't love me for it, but he may appreciate the fact that at least we did try to save him from it.”
Ottokar raised a bushy eyebrow. “Are ve sure our airship pilot is registered?”
Mr Wooster sighed. “No, we're not, but whoever they are, they are skilful enough to be able to train an apparently somewhat intellectually challenged Jäger to perform a difficult manoeuvre in mid-air. So the likelihood is that they will be. Of course, that is still going to leave a longer list than we'd like, but that's how it goes.”
“So vot hyu really saying,” said Ottokar, “is dat in order to find out who kidnapped Mrs Buckingham und Mr Sherlock Holmes, ve really need to be Mr Sherlock Holmes?”
“That,” said Mr Wooster heavily, “is unfortunately about the size of it.”
* * * * *
They went down to the docks and took a walk round in search of possible locations that might give them a hint, and Ottokar showed Mr Wooster the outside of Drauka's Bug Bar for possible future reference. Whether Mr Wooster was already familiar with the more esoteric aspects of traditional Jäger cuisine or he was just being very polite, he asked no questions regarding the bugs, for which Ottokar was grateful. It was bad enough explaining not eating bugs to other Jägers, without also having to explain Jägers eating bugs to a human.
By the time they returned to Mr Wooster's office, they found waiting for them not only Alice, but Dr John Watson. “Oh, Mr Wooster,” he said, at once. “I'm glad you're back. I have some news for you. Holmes was seen this morning, riding in a hansom cab near Shoreditch with three... er...” He glanced at Ottokar. “Very probably with three Jägers, I'm afraid, sir.”
“Hyu don't have to apologise, Doctor Vatson. Ve already knew dere vere some Jägers involved,” said Ottokar.
“Who saw him, and at what time?” asked Mr Wooster.
“One of what we call the Baker Street Irregulars,” said Watson. “Holmes employs a motley crew of children to gather information and news for him. After I saw you this morning, it occurred to me that it might well be sensible to find one of them and ask them to look out for him; after all, they know him, nobody really notices them, and they've proved on a number of occasions that they are to be trusted. The little girl can't tell the time, but she said it was some time between the clocks striking eight and nine.”
“Oh,” said Mr Wooster. “If she can't tell the time, I can hardly hope that she can read. Therefore, I suppose, we don't have the cab's number.”
“She can't read, but she can draw,” replied Watson with a smile, taking out a slip of paper. “She's quite a natural artist. She can copy anything she sees. She knows where the number is on a cab, even if she doesn't know how to read it. So she copied it.”
“One hundred and thirty-six!” exclaimed Mr Wooster. “Doctor, this is better than I had dared to hope. Ottokar and I have been breaking our brains all afternoon trying to find a possible lead, and here you are with a solid gold one. What is the name of this artistic child?”
“I believe it's Maisie,” replied Watson. “But I can't say I'm certain. It's Holmes who usually deals with them.”
“But you'd know her if you saw her again?”
Watson nodded. “I have a good memory for faces.”
“Then if we find Holmes, bring her to me. I'll ensure that she gets a proper education.”
“I shall.” Watson paused. “Oh... the news blackout on Holmes' disappearance?”
“What about it?”
“Is it supposed to include Mrs Buckingham's family? You see, after surgery, on the way here, I dropped in on Mrs Hudson to see if I could get some idea of where Holmes was originally heading. I didn't find anything, but I did find Arthur Buckingham, who was waiting to see Holmes. Mrs Hudson, not realising he was connected with Miss Temple, had told him Holmes was out on a case, and after that I didn't really like to undeceive him.”
“That's a very good question, but at least you have, between you, left us the option to decide on an answer,” said Mr Wooster.
“So that's where he was!” exclaimed Alice. “I can certainly tell you he went without Miss Temple's knowledge. She didn't know why he hadn't come home, and was starting to worry about him. Was he still there when you left?”
“No, he left when I did,” replied Watson. “He seems quite concerned about his sister-in-law; one would almost say protective, although I rather fancy that protection is the last thing she needs. Although it was her idea to involve Holmes, rather than his, he seems to have acquiesced quite readily. I can easily imagine that he might slip out to see if he could get a report on the case without troubling his sister-in-law.”
“Seems odd that he shouldn't tell her, though,” said Alice. “Especially since you'd think he would have known he wouldn't arrive home at the usual time. Still, he may have underestimated the time it took to get to Baker Street. It doesn't sound as though he goes into the City more than he can avoid.”
“Did hyu find out anyting interesting up at de house?” asked Ottokar.
Alice grinned. “Well, Sergeant Haywood found the ladder, or he thinks he did. It doesn't really matter one way or the other, but for what it's worth I think he's probably right. It fits the impressions properly when you lean it up against the wall. It's only ten feet long. It's the one the gardener uses for pruning the apple trees. He checked it for fingerprints and scratches, but couldn't find either. Still, it's rough old wood, so fingerprints would be fairly unlikely.”
“So that's our red herring,” said Mr Wooster. “Probably put there by a human. A Jäger would be more likely to have rammed it down into the ground, though of course we can't be certain.”
“Und de maid?” asked Ottokar.
“I was waiting for you to ask that,” said Alice, with a smile. She reached into her reticule. “She won't be having any weird dreams tonight, or, if she does, it will only be because she ate too much cheese in the evening. I asked her if her mistress had ever given her any piece of jewellery or similar small item that she had had about her when she heard the voices. Lo and behold.” She triumphantly held up a milky white opalescent pendant on a silver chain; it looked like a piece of chalcedony cut in cabochon, except that the play of light in its depths did not seem to be quite accountable to the ordinary laws of physics.
“How on earth did you persuade her to part with it?” asked Watson. “I recognise that pendant. She was wearing it when we spoke to her.”
“I asked her to lend it to me because I thought it would help us to find her mistress,” replied Alice. “She naturally knows her mistress is a spark. She's aware that it may not be all it seems.”
“Now dis,” said Ottokar, “is vhere ve could do vit Charles und Hilde.”
“It may well come to that,” said Mr Wooster. “I may well end up having to hire a cab and go and see them, though I would prefer not to involve them if we don't have to. They are already busy.”
“Here's where it gets interesting,” said Alice. “I showed Miss Temple the pendant, and asked if her sister had anything like it. Not only like it, it seems, but identical; Miss Temple was quite startled when she first saw it, because she thought it was her sister's. It was only when I turned it over and showed her Katya's name engraved on the back that she realised she was mistaken.”
“A thoughtful mistress,” said Watson. “If you are going to give your maid a pendant identical to your own, it is a very wise thing to have her name engraved on the back, so that she can't be accused of stealing yours.”
“Or to tell your husband or your sister,” suggested Alice. “Neither of them took a great deal of notice of Katya, since she wasn't their maid, but if they had happened to see that she was wearing the pendant, it would surely have been easier for Mrs Buckingham to have simply mentioned the gift. As it was, Miss Temple wasn't aware of it, and I assume that the same must have applied to Mr Buckingham.”
“Now that,” said Mr Wooster, “is interesting.”
“Could yust be der whole class ting,” said Ottokar. “Is probably an expensive ting. Maybe she didn't vant dem to know she vos giving a ting like dat to her maid, because dey vould have made a fuss und said it vosn't proper or dat sort of schtuff.”
“Oh, now that does make some sense,” said Alice. “I do get the impression from some of the things Miss Temple says that Mr Buckingham is rather a snob. He makes a little as an architect, but mostly he lives on the money from his wife's invention. He doesn't like to talk too much about that, though. He's got some titled ancestors and he tends to bang on about them. There's a framed coat of arms in the hall.”
“Heh,” said Ottokar. “Hy suppose he not descended from der duke vot lost his head in Salisbury?”
Alice shook her head. “No, that was the Duke of Buckingham, and his surname was Stafford. Anyway, Mr Buckingham is descended from the aristocracy on his mother's side, although again he tends to keep that rather quiet. Miss Temple doesn't mind talking about it, though. I don't think she likes her brother-in-law anywhere near so much as he likes her.”
“Any reason?” asked Mr Wooster.
Alice shrugged. “Goodness knows. I didn't try to pry too deeply. Miss Temple is obviously very upset about what has happened to her sister, and she's scared, too, which is only to be expected. She's afraid for her sister, and also, I think, a little for herself.”
“Does she think Buckingham will throw her out, then?” asked Mr Wooster.
“I'm not sure. If she does, I would be surprised if she has anything to worry about. But she may feel that without her sister, it wouldn't be proper for her to share a house with him, even if he is her brother-in-law, so she would have to go elsewhere. Even though she can certainly afford to go and live somewhere else, that sort of thing can be quite daunting.”
“Well,” said Mr Wooster, “I am rather hoping that we now have enough information to restore her sister to her so that she won't have that problem. I am now going to find and talk to the cab driver.”
“Would you mind if I came with you?” asked Watson. “Obviously I'm very keen to help find Holmes, and I've... got some experience of assisting with this kind of thing.”
“Certainly,” said Mr Wooster promptly. “That would be helpful. You two, I suggest that for the moment you go home and get something to eat. Ottokar, you know what you're going to be doing after that. Miss Davenport, here is some money. As soon as you're ready, hire yourself a cab and get yourself down to Lewes. I want to know what that pendant is. Do try to make sure they put it back together again if they have to take it apart to find out. You've got enough there to stay the night, and I suggest you do, or you won't be back till the small hours.”
“Right you are,” said Alice briskly. “Will do.”
“All right, Doctor,” said Mr Wooster. “Come on!”
It was easy enough to trace the cab driver, and she had not forgotten the three Jägers. She was talkative, and Mr Wooster gathered that they had not seemed too clear about where they were going and had had to argue about it, but in the end one of them had said “near Drauka's”, and then they had agreed to have her drive to Drauka's and then stop a little way further along the river.
“The docks again,” muttered Mr Wooster, as they left. “Always the docks. The perfect place to hide someone. The place is riddled with under-used warehouses, shady pubs, run-down lodging houses, brothels and opium dens, and there are so many people coming and going all the time that even three Jägers with a captive are unlikely to draw attention. Ah well. So we go to the docks.”
Watson was frowning. “Mr Wooster,” he said, “why didn't you find out exactly where the cab stopped? Holmes would have pinned it down almost to the inch.”
Mr Wooster turned to face him. “Dr Watson,” he replied, “I greatly appreciate your help, but if you wouldn't mind, please do me the favour of relegating the phrase 'Holmes would have...' to your mental archive while we're investigating this.”
“I'm sorry. But why...?”
“Because I am not Holmes. Oh, don't mistake me. I do appreciate and admire his methods. He is a truly great detective. Nonetheless, he is, if you like, a highly talented soloist, supported by a small orchestra but accustomed to taking all the plaudits himself. I, if you will permit me to extend the metaphor, direct a chamber ensemble while at the same time being one of the players. We all bow for the applause together. It's inevitable that we work in slightly different ways.”
Watson nodded, understanding. “Ah. Yes, I see. Your clarinettist and bassoonist are both quite exceptional, from what I've seen of them.”
Mr Wooster chuckled. “Oh, they are. I'm very lucky to have them. Later tonight, all being well, we should have an interesting brass interlude. With additional gears.”
“And what do I play, do you suppose?” asked Watson.
“Well, this time it's certainly not going to be Boswell,” replied Mr Wooster. “But, returning to your question about the cab, I think it doesn't matter exactly where it stopped. I am fairly sure whoever gave the Jägers their instructions had the sense to tell them not to pull up directly outside the building. They also didn't want to stop outside Drauka's, because they would risk being recognised there.”
“Is that a Jäger pub?” asked Watson.
“The only one in London, I'm reliably informed. The Jägerkin are a very small community here. They didn't want to be seen by their own kind. They knew they needed to be near Drauka's, but they couldn't stop outside there, so they went as far as Drauka's and then went on a little way more or less at random.”
“H'mm,” said Watson. “I suppose Holmes couldn't be at Drauka's?”
“That's the one place we can eliminate from the start,” replied Mr Wooster. “The usual rule is Jägers only, and even if there were to be some very good reason for that rule to be breached – for instance, I'm sure if Ottokar found a human outside who was hurt, they'd let him bring them in until a doctor could be called – it would be so unusual that it would get round the whole community.”
“So what do we do now?” asked Watson.
“I suggest we go down to the docks and sit in a moderately seedy pub. Do any of your Baker Street Irregulars frequent the docks, or could they possibly be induced to do so?”
Watson shrugged. “When Holmes pays them, they frequent anywhere he asks.”
“Good. Then we'll walk as far as Baker Street, have a word with the first Irregular we spot, and ask them to spread the glad tidings that there is good money in hanging around the docks this evening and keeping their eyes and ears open. I'm sure that should land us a fair few extra helpers. Once that's settled, we'll get something to eat and then take the airbus down to the docks. Ottokar is going to be tracking the Jägers, just in case they're doing any more work for their mysterious new boss this evening, so we needn't worry about them. Our job is going to involve eavesdropping on the humans.”
“H'mm,” said Watson. “I can't help thinking Ottokar has the easier job. From what you say, there are only three of them.”
Mr Wooster blinked. “You... really don't know Jägers very well, do you?”
* * * * *
Ottokar spent a convivial evening at Drauka's, mostly chatting to Daggy and a couple of her friends. Drauka, naturally, was delighted to see him, but fortunately she was too busy to do a great deal of flirting. Bavo, Juri and Helmut occupied their usual corner, and still seemed to be spending with more than accustomed freedom; they were ordering a steady stream of wheat beer and special fried locusts.
They left a little after ten, and Ottokar said goodnight to Daggy and her friends, dodged a kiss from Drauka, and discreetly followed. Bavo and his friends were clearly in high spirits, laughing and joking as they tramped along the water front. Now and again, they would burst into song.
“If dose lips could only schpeeeeeak,” warbled Juri. “If dose eyes could only zeeeeee...”
Bavo cuffed him. “Ach, schtop vit der zentimental music-hall schlush. Hyu vant to zing, giff us a proper drinkink song.”
“Ja, but ve not drinkink right now,” Juri objected. “Und hy like der zentimental music-hall schlush. It got goot tunes.”
“In der tvi-tvi-tvilight, out in der beautiful tvilight...” sang Helmut, and got a cuff from Bavo in his turn.
“Hyu vant to zing der music-hall schtuff, vy don't hyu put on gowns und be done vit it?” he demanded.
“Is not as easy as dat,” said Helmut. “Hyu obviously neffer tried to put on a gown.”
“Ja,” agreed Juri. “Hy dun know how de girls do it. Und de corsets are chust hell.”
“Dat vos ven ve vere trying to get vork at de variety show,” explained Helmut. “Hy tink ve vere chust too much variety for dem.”
“Und schtockings!” Juri lamented. “How hyu effer get dem on vitout tearing dem?”
“Girls are schmot,” said Helmut, nodding sagely. “Hy mean. Hyu look at Drauka.”
“Bet she dun vear schtockings,” said Bavo. “Bet she too schmot to do dat.”
“Vell, hy not goink to ask her,” said Juri. “She got a damn goot left hook.”
“Und she schveet on dat fancy guy vit der trilobite,” said Helmut bitterly.
“Ja, but is not like she goink to look tvice at hyu anyvay,” Bavo pointed out, undiplomatically. Helmut thumped him.
“Fat lot of goot hyu are, Bavo,” he said.
“Bavo got a point,” said Juri. “Hyu vant to impress de ladies, hyu need to get some class.”
“Oh? Hyu so schmot, hyu know how hyu get class now?” asked Helmut. “Ve got money. Hyu mean dat ain't class?”
“Ja, but right now ve schpending it all on beer und bugs,” said Juri, who seemed to be the most intelligent of the three. “Now hyu look at der fancy guy. He got nize clothes. Hyu need to get some of dose. And a goot hat. Hy know hyu von dat vun in a fight, but it look like hyu von der fight by hitting der odder guy on de head a lot vhile he vos vearing it.”
“Ho!” said Helmut. “Zo. Now hyu tink my hat not goot enough? Vell, dat's an easy ting to fix. Hy fight hyu for dat vun.”
“Hy got a better idea,” said Bavo. “Ve find zum odder guy vit a nize hat. Hyu fight him.”
“Hy dun mind a fight,” said Juri.
“But if hyu und Helmut fight, und he take hyu hat, den vot hyu goink to do for a hat? Hyu not goink to vant to vear Helmut's.”
“Goot point,” admitted Juri, eyeing the shameful headgear with disfavour.
“Vy hyu got it in for my hat?” demanded Helmut. “Hokay. Hy go und fight a zailor, maybe.”
“Ve not got it in for hyu hat,” said Bavo. “Is chust... not a goot hat. Hy vouldn't fight hyu for it.”
“Is a hat vit a prout history of battle,” said Helmut.
“Vos a hat,” countered Juri, remorselessly. “Vunce upon a time. Ven it vos young.”
“Hy fight hyu right now und den hyu can go und fight der zailor later,” said Helmut, and suited his actions to his words by springing at Juri. Ottokar, who had been following from a safe distance, melted into the shadows by the river to watch the proceedings. The scuffle turned out to be inconclusive, since, although Helmut was the larger and more powerful of the two, Juri had better reflexes and was quicker on his feet. After a few minutes, Bavo waded in and forced them apart.
“Hyu vastink time,” he admonished them.
“But ve vere haffink fun!” Juri complained.
“Ja,” agreed Helmut. “Vos a goot fight. Vell balanced.”
“Dat's vy ve goot friends,” added Juri.
Helmut cuffed him again. “Ho, schtop vit der zoppy tok.”
A light flashed across the water and was gone. “Hy said hyu vere vastink time,” Bavo scolded. “Vot if dat vos de Keptain lookink for us?”
“She vouldn't...” Helmut began. Juri stopped him.
“Is somevun over dere,” he hissed, in a low voice. “Hy saw dem in der light. Hy dun know who it is, but hy tink dey vatchink us.”
“Dat sounds fun,” said Helmut. “Dey got a hat?”
Ottokar had not been close enough to hear what Juri said, but Helmut was blissfully unaware of any need to keep his voice down, and therefore was perfectly audible from where Ottokar was standing. It hardly took a genius to realise they must be aware of him. Well, he was far enough away to pretend not to have seen them; he had been looking over the river at the moment the light flashed. All right. Do what Mr Wooster said. Wander off in the opposite direction. After all, he now had a solid piece of evidence to report back: there was a “Captain” in the equation, she was female, and she was somewhere out there on that stretch of dark water. Even if he could follow them no further, that was a good night's work.
Too late. There were footsteps quickening behind him. Now they were following him.
One at a time he could have managed, but he was not keen to take on all three of them at once. There was also the fact that they undoubtedly knew the docks far better than he did. He was going to have to out-think them. That, surely, ought to be possible.
He ducked down an alley. Now, where would they expect him to head? There was only one answer, and that was Drauka's. It was the only place in the area where safety was guaranteed. So if he made them think he was going that way, they would probably try to cut him off, and then he could double back somewhere out of sight and escape into the maze of streets and alleys behind the docks.
It almost worked. It would have worked, if he had not taken a wrong turning at the crucial moment and ended up back on the waterfront. Bavo, who was waiting by the railings, happened to glance over his shoulder at that moment and raised a shout. Juri charged out of nowhere, caught him up as he broke into a run, and brought him down with a flying tackle. Helmut came lumbering up behind.
“Is hyu!” exclaimed Juri happily. “Der fancy guy. Vell, dat solves Helmut's problem! Helmut, look vot ve got. Somevun hyu can fight for a nize new hat.”
“No vay,” said Ottokar, twisting to his feet. “Hyu don't get dis hat. Hy von it off a rogue schpark. Had to beat a clank de size of dat building to get it.”
“Den vy hyu got de trilobite?” demanded Juri, throwing a round-arm punch.
Ottokar ducked. “Dat came separate!” He swung out a leg, catching Juri off balance. By this time, Helmut had joined the fray.
“Ja,” said Helmut. “Dat's a goot hat. Hy vant it.”
“Hyu velcome to fight, but vun at a time,” said Ottokar. “Oddervise, is not a proper hat fight. Hyu know dat.”
“Ho? Is nobody around to zee,” said Juri, grinning as he righted himself.
Ottokar saw Helmut's punch coming and stepped aside just enough to dodge it, getting in a solid one of his own that connected with the other Jäger's ear and did nothing to improve the state of his existing hat. While he was doing this, Juri punched him in the stomach.
“Cheating schwine,” snarled Ottokar. “Is vun of der most fundamental Jäger rules. Two Jägers fight for a hat, is vun to vun.”
“Hoo, big vords,” jeered Juri. Ottokar kicked him very hard in the shins.
Bavo came barrelling up. “Hyu two need any help? Ho! Is hyu!” He grinned evilly. Then a thought struck him. “Hey,” he said. “Ve take der hat. But ve dun take de trilobite. De Mistress gave him dat.”
“Ja. Ve can't disrespect de Mistress,” Juri admitted.
“Ja,” said Helmut. “Hyu so goot at fighting schparks vit big clanks, hyu can alvays go und fight anodder vun und get a new hat. But hyu can't chust go und get hyuself a new trilobite veneffer hyu vant.”
“Hy sure de Mistress vill be pleased to hear dat,” said Ottokar, “but schtill. Is my hat, und if hyu lot don't give me a fair fight, she gets to hear about dat too.”
“Is hyu vord against ours,” said Juri, “und dere's tree of us. Und chust der vun of hyu.”
The next few minutes were decidedly crowded, and Ottokar would certainly have had to part with his hat if it had not been for a voice which called out in authoritative tones, “Enough! Now!”
To Ottokar's considerable astonishment, everyone stopped instantly. He looked up. A ship had drawn up alongside the railings under steam, its sails tightly furled. Up on the foredeck stood a slim, dark young woman with a cascade of hair so black that it threw back bluish reflections from the gas lamps. She was dressed in sailing garb, with a trim little hat and a huge pair of gold earrings, and at her side hung a wicked-looking cutlass. Her arms were folded across her chest, and she did not look pleased.
“Awww,” said Bavo sheepishly. “Keptain!”
“You know what I told you boys about fighting,” she said. “Now, you. Green feller. What's your name?”
“Ottokar,” he replied.
“OK. My crew shouldn't be getting into fights on the waterfront. But since they did, I couldn't help noticing that you were doing pretty well. You were never going to win against the three of them, but you were making a decent fight of it. Ever fancied being a sailor, Ottokar?”
“Hyu offering me vork?” he asked, surprised.
She laughed musically. “Of course! I like someone who can fight well. If you've got enough brains, I'll even make you first mate.”
Ottokar thought quickly. “Vell,” he said. “Is a tempting offer. But hy got vork already. Hy need to tink about it und see if vot hyu offering is better.” He looked at his erstwhile assailants. “She pay all right, ja?”
They nodded in unison, a little stunned. “Ho ja,” said Bavo. “She pay really goot.”
“Vell,” said Ottokar. “Hy tell hyu vot hy do. Hy go und talk to my boss und tell him somevun is offering me goot money to be a sailor. Maybe he offers me more money, maybe he tells me he can't match it und hy better go vhere de gold is. Vhen hy come back, who do hy ask for?”
She grinned. “I really think you may have the brains to be first mate,” she said. “Well, you'd better talk to your boss quickly, because I may not be here by this time tomorrow. But you need to ask for Captain Dupree.”
Ottokar stared. “Dupree?”
The Captain laughed again. “Ha! It gets them all like that. Not Bangladesh Dupree. That's my sister. I'm Kerala Dupree. We used to be a team until she went off to work for the Baron.”
“Is goot to meet hyu. Und vot hyu call de ship? Hy can't see de name from here.”
“The Morning Star. Which is also, by pure coincidence, the name of one of my favourite weapons. I do like weapons, don't you, Ottokar?”
“Not dat much,” replied Ottokar bluntly. “Hy don't need dem as much as hyu humans.”
“No, you don't, do you?” said Dupree approvingly. “Well, goodnight. I shall definitely be around until three o'clock tomorrow afternoon, and after that... who knows? I may still be here. Or I may be swaggering round the Channel doing what I do best.”
“Hy sure ve meet again,” replied Ottokar. “Goot night, Captain.” He glanced round at the other three Jägers. “Goot night, comrades. Any time hyu vant a fight, yust remember. Vun to vun und hyu on.”
They watched him stride away in the direction of Drauka's. Bavo looked at the other two and shrugged.
“Maybe he not so bad efter all,” he said.
Dupree grinned. She did that a lot. “What didn't you like about him?” she asked.
“He too fancy,” said Helmut. “Und Drauka is schveet on him.”
“Und it got to be said,” added Bavo, “hyu right about de brains. He schmot. Too schmot for a Jäger.”
“That is hardly a disadvantage,” said Dupree. “Brains are useful. And brains and brawn together are very useful indeed.”
“He fights goot,” said Juri. “Hy alvays say hyu need brains to fight goot.”
“Hyu alvays saying hy got no brains,” rumbled Helmut. “Hyu saying hy can't fight?”
“Sure hyu can fight. But hyu fight like an earthqvake. Not vot hyu might call zubtle.”
Helmut raised a meaty arm. “Enough!” barked Dupree. The arm was sheepishly lowered.
“All right,” said Dupree. “On board, the lot of you. Tonight you're going to learn how to use the sails.”
“Aww,” said Bavo. “Not der fun schtuff?”
“Depends on your idea of fun, really,” replied Dupree. “A lot of sailors I know find the sails curiously satisfying. There's a lot of skill involved, and you, my buckos, are going to learn. At least, if you want the beer and bugs to keep flowing, that is.”
“Hy not sure bugs exactly vot hyu call flow,” said Helmut.
Bavo kicked him in the shins. “Chust shut up und go on board,” he said.
* * * * *
“Why, Alice!” exclaimed Hilde Greenwood. “What a lovely surprise! Come in, dear.”
“Good to see you too, Hilde,” said Alice. “Sorry you didn't get any warning, though. I hope you're not too busy at the moment.”
“I'm not, but Charles is holed up in the work room as usual. Everything's going quite well here.”
“That's good to hear,” replied Alice, following Hilde through to the parlour. “We were a little worried, since we'd normally have had a letter from you by today.”
“Oh, yes, it was all rather hectic yesterday. I did write this afternoon, so Ottokar will get it tomorrow morning. How is Ottokar?”
“He's fine. Still enjoying London, apart from the heat. I'm sure it's cooler here.”
“Well, London is in a valley, after all, and then there's the steam,” said Hilde. “All the airships and things. And how is Mr Wooster?”
“The same as always,” replied Alice, with a smile. “And, as you've probably guessed, he's the reason I'm here. He was wondering if you and Charles would mind taking a look at this.” She produced the pendant.
Hilde ushered her into a chair and rang the bell. A maid, of the non-mechanical variety, appeared, and was asked to bring a pot of tea and inform the master that Miss Davenport was here. As the maid left, Hilde took the pendant and examined it carefully.
“Ooh!” she said. “Whatever this is, it's certainly not just a piece of chalcedony.” She turned it over. “Am I allowed to know who Katya is?”
“She's the owner,” Alice replied. “But she's not the person who made it. It was given to her. And, if it helps, the person who made it has another one, identical to this.”
“That makes a great deal of sense,” said Hilde slowly. “Are those the only two, or are there more?”
“I'm afraid I have no idea,” said Alice. “So you have some idea what it is, then?”
“Yes. It's certainly some kind of communication device, but there is something unusual about it that I can't quite put my finger on. Charles will know. As usual, he's sparking at the moment, whereas I'm just winding down for the night.” She paused. “Speaking of which, have you anywhere to stay? It's far too late to go back to London tonight, and we have a spare room here.”
“I haven't, and thank you,” said Alice gratefully. “I was going to try the pub.”
“Oh, it'll be quieter here,” Hilde assured her. “Unless my beloved blows something up, of course, but then you're used to that.”
Alice laughed. “If he does, it'll be just like old times.”
Hilde was still gazing at the pendant. “Is there any more you can tell me about this?” she asked.
“Indeed,” replied Alice. “It was made by Mrs Adelaide Buckingham, whose kidnapping we're now helping to investigate, and she gave it to Katya, her maid. On the morning that Mrs Buckingham was kidnapped, Katya reported suddenly feeling sick and dizzy, seeing indistinct blurs of colour, and hearing voices speaking in thick German accents like Jägers. That is to say, I don't think she knew what Jägers were, but they seemed a fairly obvious conclusion to us. She screamed, and then whatever was happening stopped abruptly and didn't come back. Katya doesn't strike me as an unusually nervous young woman, but, as you can imagine, she was shaken.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Hilde. “Thank you. That's the missing piece I needed. We're looking at thought transference.”
“Telepathy?”
“Not exactly, although I think it might be possible to refine the technique to allow for that. I think the device is probably triggered by strong emotion. I'm getting an idea of how it might be done, though I'll have to wait till the morning to test it out.” She paused, leaning forward with the pendant dangling from her fingers. “Let's picture it. Mrs Buckingham is kidnapped during the night... by the way, was she chloroformed?”
“We think so, yes,” said Alice, startled.
“Yes, she would have had to be, or the device would have activated at the time of her kidnap and the maid would have woken up,” said Hilde. “Good. Well, not good for poor Mrs Buckingham, with whom I have the deepest sympathy; I was unfortunate enough to be chloroformed once myself, and the after-effects were quite horrible. But good from the point of view of reconstructing what must have happened.”
“Ah,” said Alice. “I think I understand. So she comes round in a strange place, feeling sick and dizzy because of the chloroform, and it probably takes her a little while to get her eyes back in focus. All she can see is a blur, and all she can hear is a group of unfamiliar voices talking in such a heavy accent that her brain can't process it properly. She's terrified. And the device kicks in.”
Hilde nodded. “Exactly! It immediately relays those impressions to the maid, who is naturally also terrified. She screams. Her own device kicks in. At this point, one of her captors notices something odd about Mrs Buckingham's pendant – which, I am guessing, she wears all the time, even when she's sleeping – and rips it away. They must have known she was a spark. Everyone knows that. So they would have automatically distrusted any piece of jewellery that did anything out of the ordinary.”
“And the maid clearly had no idea what she'd been given,” said Alice thoughtfully. “She knew the visions weren't part of her immediate surroundings, but it didn't occur to her to connect them with the pendant until I suggested it. When she made the connection, she was more than happy to lend me the thing, knowing we were already doing our best to find her mistress.”
“This tells me,” said Hilde, “that she trusted her maid better than either her husband or her sister, which is an unfortunate state of affairs.”
“You're right,” said Alice. “There is an odd situation in that house which I don't entirely understand. Both the husband and the sister are very keen to get Mrs Buckingham back, especially the sister; I get a distinct sense that she's afraid of something, but I couldn't fathom what. And the husband is very kind and considerate towards the sister, but the sister doesn't entirely like the husband. I'm not sure if he's what she's afraid of.”
The maid returned with the tea. “Oh, thank you, Edna,” said Hilde. “Is the master on his way, or do I have to go and make diplomatic threats in person?”
Edna grinned. “He says he is, ma'am.”
“All right. If you don't notice him moving within half an hour, go and tell him I am very angry.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Edna curtseyed and went out.
“And I imagine you won't know about Mr Sherlock Holmes,” Alice continued. “He's actually the reason we've got involved.”
“Good heavens,” said Hilde. “Has Mr Wooster finally persuaded him to join the Service?”
“Oh, nothing like that,” said Alice. “It's like this.” With that, she launched into a potted account of the events of the last day or so.
“H'mm,” said Hilde. “Sounds as if Mr Holmes is not very experienced at dealing with Jägers. I fancy that, when you get him out, he won't make that mistake again.”
“Indeed,” replied Alice. “But it's an excusable error. Ottokar says there aren't more than two hundred and fifty of them in the whole of London, and most of them are respectable.”
“You'd think more criminals would want to pay them to do things, though,” said Hilde. “I mean, if you needed a street thug...”
Alice shrugged. “I doubt most criminals could afford to compete with the dockmasters. A Jäger can earn some nice money shifting cargo.”
“But this one can,” Hilde pointed out.
“True, but this one's a kidnapper. They're going to make a lot of money from the ransom.”
“Going to, yes,” said Hilde. “But they have money up front to pay the Jägers. Has there been a spate of kidnappings in London recently?”
“Not that I know of,” replied Alice. “That is quite curious, now you mention it. We did wonder about some kind of organised crime syndicate, but then, why would one of those need to pay Jägers? They'd already have people who could do the job.”
The door opened, admitting Charles Greenwood. “Alice!” he exclaimed. “How lovely to see you! I'm sorry I didn't come up straight away. I had a slight... er... problem.”
Hilde regarded her husband's bright, enthusiastic, and above all soot-covered face, and grinned. “Explosion, you mean, darling?” she enquired.
“Only a little one,” he replied.
“I suggest you take a look in the glass,” said Hilde.
Charles stepped up to the mirror above the fireplace. “Oh,” he said. “Um. I'd better go and wash.”
“It would be a good idea, yes,” replied Hilde. “And is that more soot on your collar, or is it machine oil?”
“There is a strong possibility that it may be squid ink,” Charles admitted. “Oh dear. I hope it will wash.”
“Why squid ink?” asked Hilde.
“Because ordinary ink clogs the mechanism,” explained Charles obscurely. “I'll, er, just go and make myself presentable. Back in two ticks.”
“What on earth is he working on?” asked Alice. “I'm normally quite good at guessing, but... something that uses ink and occasionally explodes?”
“It does rather sound like a mechanical sub-editor, doesn't it?” said Hilde. “But I think it's meant to be a copying machine, or at least it was when he first started work on it. It may be something different now. You know how it is.”
“Oh, I know exactly how it is, and I've missed it,” replied Alice with a smile. “Although I've been enjoying my training. Did I tell you I'm learning to fence now?”
“You did. Very sensible thing to learn.”
“And quite fun, too,” said Alice, “although I must admit I don't enjoy practising quite so much in the weather we've been having.”
Hilde's eyes lit up. “Oh, I can help you with that! Talk to me about it in the morning, and I'll go and build you one.”
“One what, sorry?” asked Alice, puzzled.
“Portable heat exchanger. You do have to keep putting water in it, but on the bright side, in a heatwave like we've just been having you can use it to make cups of tea. The device pulls the heat from the surrounding air into the water. I designed it last week because I was finding I couldn't sleep properly for the heat, and as you know I'm not like Charles. I can't function unless I get my full sleep quota.”
“I'm not sure Charles functions terribly well when he hasn't had enough sleep,” replied Alice. “He just thinks he does.”
“Can't disagree with you there,” admitted Hilde. “But there you go. We're all different.”
Charles returned shortly, wearing a clean shirt and looking rather pink. “Here I am,” he announced. “Sorry about that.”
“I have a gadget to show you,” said Alice. “Hilde and I have just been talking about it.” She handed him the pendant.
“Great Scott!” he exclaimed. “Where did you get this?”
Alice told the story again, more briefly this time.
“Ooh,” said Charles, his blue eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yes. That explains everything.”
“What's it made of, exactly?” asked Alice.
“Oh, just ordinary chalcedony initially,” replied Charles, “but that's not really the point. With a little ingenuity, you could probably use glass. It's not the material that matters, but the configuration of the microfields. You've essentially got a bubble matrix with a very precisely directed Regenschirm field in each bubble, and the arrangement will detect any sudden increase in the wearer's pulse rate while either stationary or moving slowly, which is generally an indicator of strong emotion. That causes a temporary realignment of the fields, which allows...” He stared at the teapot. “That's tea,” he interrupted himself, abruptly.
“Yes, darling,” said Hilde placidly.
“I need coffee for this. Lots and lots of coffee!”
“Charles, my darling, we are working on a case and you do not need to be up all night,” Hilde reminded him. “I think Alice already has all the explanation she is likely to need.”
“No, you don't understand, dear! I need to make some of these.” Charles had that insane gleam in his eyes which comes at times to every true spark, no matter how gentle and reasonable they might be the rest of the time.
“On the contrary,” said Hilde firmly, “I understand all too well, which is why I am forestalling you. We both know exactly how this goes. I shall want to do the same thing in the morning, and you will stop me, because I have already promised to make Alice one of those portable heat exchangers.”
“But we do need them,” Charles insisted. “And I'm sure Mr Wooster would be grateful for a consignment of them. When you have people going into danger all the time, this is just the sort of thing they need to alert others instantly if anything goes wrong.”
“Yes, they would be a really good idea,” agreed Hilde. “So we'll write them on the Things To Build board in the work room, and the moment things calm down a bit, we'll build some. And on that note, how is your copying machine progressing?”
“Oh, pretty well, thank you, dear, except that I'm having some difficulty with the automatic translator,” said Charles.
“Automatic translator,” Hilde repeated.
“Well. Yes. After all, we are informally working with Baron Wulfenbach, and so it's probably a good idea...”
“But you don't even speak German!” Hilde protested. “How on earth are you managing to build an automatic translator?”
“I think you're forgetting I have a huge number of Bach scores,” replied Charles mildly. “Both Passions, and any number of cantatas. Since I'm extremely familiar with those, I can work from there.”
“Oh well,” said Hilde. “I suppose it will be very useful if Baron Wulfenbach ever calls on us to repent.”
* * * * *
“Dr Watson!” said the boy breathlessly. “There are Jägers fighting!”
“What?” said Mr Wooster, standing up. “Where? How many?”
“That way, on the waterfront,” replied the boy, pointing, “and there's three of them settin' on one.”
“Thank you. You did right to let us know,” said Mr Wooster. “Come on, Dr Watson.”
“I've got my revolver...” Watson began.
“You won't need it,” Mr Wooster called over his shoulder. “It's a Jäger fight. If you fire at them, you won't do much damage and you'll just get them annoyed. We're going to get some more Jägers.”
“More?”
“Yes. Doctor, you have to understand people before you can deal with them. Come on! We're going to Drauka's.”
“But...”
“By way of the fight. Just so we can be certain who is involved, although I can make a very shrewd guess. We are not, however, going to get close.”
Watson hurried after him. “But you said humans couldn't go into Drauka's!”
“We're not going to! All we have to do is stand in the doorway and call for assistance. Someone will come out.”
They ran. Up ahead of them, they could now see the fight, though they were not close enough to identify the combatants in this light. There were grunts of effort and heavy thuds.
“Looks nasty,” said Watson.
“It is... wait. Stop!”
Mr Wooster held out an arm so abruptly that Watson almost barrelled straight into it. “Have they seen us?” he whispered.
“No. Look!”
The fight had stopped, and both of them could see the figure leaning down from the foredeck, her white uniform clearly visible. Her voice carried clearly through the night. Both men listened until Ottokar walked away and the three other Jägers trooped on board.
“Well,” said Mr Wooster. “The good news is that we now have an extremely good idea where the kidnap victims are. The bad news is that if that young lady is anything like her sister, we are going to have an extremely difficult time getting them to safety. She's probably more dangerous than all three of those Jägers put together.”
“You know her sister, then?” asked Watson.
“I do have the, er, pleasure of her acquaintance,” replied Mr Wooster guardedly. “Mercifully, the Baron is able to keep her in check. Most of the time. Now, let's go and catch up with Ottokar.”
This proved to take longer than anticipated, because Ottokar was walking quickly just in case Captain Dupree changed her mind and sent one or more of her crew out to fetch him. Mr Wooster called as soon as they were in hailing distance, and Ottokar stopped and turned.
“Ho,” he said, striding up to them. “Glad to see hyu. Hy had a bit of an interesting time. But hy got some news.”
“Don't want to steal your thunder, old man, but we know,” replied Mr Wooster. “One of the Irregulars told us there was a Jäger fight, so we came running. We were going to go to Drauka's and get you some help, but then we saw Captain Dupree stop it. We heard the whole thing.”
“Tree of dem,” said Ottokar, disgustedly. “Der Helmut vanted my hat. Is hokay. A hat challenge is a hat challenge. Hy vould have had no problem vit him fighting me for der hat. But vun of de most basic rules is, a hat challenge is vun to vun. Hyu don't get hyu friends to help.” He paused. “Vell, unless de person hyu challenging already got help. Dat's fine. Dat happen, hyu allowed to bring in hyu own to make it fair. But de really big rule is, hyu never fight anyvun for a hat if is obvious hyu going to vin from before hyu schtart. No honour in dat.”
“Your hat?!” said Watson. “That was all he wanted?”
Ottokar drew himself up to his full height. “Hats,” he said sternly, “are impawtent.”
“Er...” said Watson, helplessly.
Mr Wooster raised a hand. “Look, Doctor, this is a cultural thing. I'm sure Ottokar will be more than happy to explain it to you in detail when we have the time, and also regale you with the story of how he won his hat, which, let me tell you, is well worth listening to. But right now, we need to be working out how to get Holmes and Mrs Buckingham off that ship.”
“We get the police, I suppose,” said Watson.
“I'm afraid we don't have time to do that,” replied Mr Wooster. “By the time we can get a search warrant, she'll be gone. And even with a search warrant, she can easily keep a couple of officers talking long enough for the Jägers to get the captives off the ship. By boat, one would hope, though if she's desperate she probably won't hesitate to have them thrown overboard.”
“What's her motive?” asked Watson.
“Well, she is a Dupree,” said Mr Wooster. “Murder, mayhem and money, I should think.”
“Hy don't tink hy buy dat,” said Ottokar slowly. “She could get dat at sea. Hy mean, she some kind of pirate, right?”
“I should think so,” replied Mr Wooster. “She did say she used to work with her sister, and her sister was a pirate before she went to work for the Baron. So what's your theory, then?”
“Hy tink yust der money,” said Ottokar. “Und she got it already, und now she paying Jägers vit it. Hy tink somevun paid her to do de kidnappings.” He paused. “Anodder ting. Hyu saw de ship. About how many humans hyu tink it needs to run it?”
“Maybe twelve to fifteen,” said Mr Wooster, puzzled.
“Ja. But she teaching de Jägers how to sail it. Und did hyu see any humans apart from de Captain?”
“I think I'm beginning to follow,” said Mr Wooster. “She must have had a crew to get here. A human crew. But now she's training a Jäger crew.”
“Vhich is goot sense for a pirate,” said Ottokar. “She needs only tree Jägers, maybe four. Ve schtrong und tough, ve don't need as much schleep as de humans, ve don't get sick, und ve fight really goot. Even if she paid each of us tree times as much as a human, she schtill comes out ahead. Course, she not going to get me, but she don't know that.” He grinned.
“Are you saying she's just abandoning her original crew?” asked Watson.
“Is looking a lot like it,” replied Ottokar. “Hyu know, it vould be really helpful if ve had some kids handy vot could schtand about loafing near de ship in case she vants to send anyvun a message.”
“We have,” said Watson, surprised. “We've got several of the Baker Street Irregulars.”
Ottokar's eyes gleamed. “Ve have?! Goot man! Vell, can hyu go und find dem und get dem to loaf?”
Watson glanced at Mr Wooster. “Do it,” he said. “Ottokar and I will meet you back at the pub.”
Watson nodded, and hurried off into the night. “Now,” said Mr Wooster. “You've clearly been doing some thinking, Ottokar. I think I have an idea what lines you've been thinking along, but I should like to hear you explain it yourself.”
They started walking. “Ja,” said Ottokar. “Hokay. Vell, ven ve schtarted out, it vos looking like de person vot did der kidnapping paid some Jägers to help. So hy vent off to look for Jägers vit extra money und hy found dose tree. Den ve find out who paying dem, und she not yust paying dem to kidnap pipple. Und dat vos vot got me tinking.”
“So what's your take on it?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Vell. Look at it from vhere she schtanding. She comes to London vit a human crew. Hy can underschtand vy she vould vant to schvap dem for Jägers, but der kidnapping is anodder matter. From her point of view, is a vaste of time. If she vants money, vell, she a pirate. She can get it at sea. Is probably much less risky dan kidnapping somevun in London. So vot hy tinking is dat somevun else must have paid her to do it.”
Mr Wooster nodded approvingly. “Yes. That is also what I'm thinking. She got the money in advance, and she's been using it to full advantage. I expect she told the person who hired her that she'd need to hire Jägers for the kidnapping; since she probably already had the idea of hiring them as crew, that would have worked out quite conveniently for her.”
“Ja. She doesn't seem to me like de sort of person vot vould take risks for somevun else vitout getting der money up front. So, is somevun out dere vot vants Mrs Buckingham kidnapped. Dat is a bit schtrange. Hy can underschtand how hyu get pipple vanting odder pipple killed, or tings schtolen, but a kidnapping?”
“Indeed,” said Mr Wooster. “I've been thinking about that. It could simply be that they need a spark for some nefarious purpose, and Mrs Buckingham is a well-known one. But if that were the case, you would think they would probably want to find one who wasn't so well-known. The case has made the national newspapers, after all.”
“Ja. Dat didn't make any sense,” Ottokar agreed. “Und dere's der money, but dey already paid a lot of dat up front to Captain Dupree, und if she messes up or lets dem down, dey end up losing money, not gaining it. But den Mr Holmes schtarts on de case, und vitin someting like tvelve hours, dey kidnap him too.” He paused, and looked hard at Mr Wooster. “Now. How hyu tink dey knew so fast?”
“And that, I think,” said Mr Wooster, “is the key question.”
“Hyu got an answer?” asked Ottokar.
Mr Wooster nodded slowly. “Yes. I can see you have, too, so I'll give you mine first. With the exception of our own group and Dr Watson, there were only two people who knew that Mr Holmes had been called in. One was, of course, Miss Temple, who called him in; and the other was Mr Buckingham. Who didn't really want him involved in the first place, but, when he found that Miss Temple had done so, acquiesced and made the best of it. Or seemed to.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar. “Und de next day he vent to see Mr Holmes. Vell, dere vos notting in de papers about Mr Holmes disappearing. It could all have been innocent. Could have been he really didn't know. But ve know he didn't tell Miss Temple vhere he vos going, und dat says to me he vos vorried because dere vere no headlines. If he had told Captain Dupree to get Mr Holmes, und she hadn't sent a message to say she got him because she tought it vould be in de papers, he vouldn't know vot vos up, so he might vell go to see Mr Holmes und check if he vos schtill around.”
“Impeccable logic so far,” said Mr Wooster. “Given that Miss Temple knew he hadn't wanted Mr Holmes involved, she would have thought it rather strange if she had known her brother-in-law was going to see him. And that, I think, probably clears her. Not definitely, because she could just have been sharp enough to lie to Alice about not knowing; but I'd be very surprised, given everything else.”
“If she had a brain like dat, she vouldn't have to be schcared of Mr Buckingham,” replied Ottokar. “No. Hy tink hyu right. She innocent.”
“All right,” said Mr Wooster. “So why would Mr Buckingham want his wife kidnapped?”
“He doesn't,” replied Ottokar. “He vants her killed.”
Mr Wooster nodded. “I'm afraid so. Motive?”
“He in love vit Miss Temple. Even hy can tell dat. She not in love vit him, but if her sister is out of der vay, maybe he tinks he can persvade her to marry him.”
“And, of course, there's the money,” said Mr Wooster. “He has an income of his own, but not enough to keep him in the style to which he has become accustomed – the style, indeed, which he possibly feels is his right as a descendant of the aristocracy. If there were a divorce, he would lose the house and any inheritance he would have had from his wife. If she dies, though, he gets everything and can carry on as before.”
“Ja. But if she gets murdered, is alvays going to be a suspicion. So, inschtead, he plans to have her kidnapped, because nobody vill tink he vould be behind dat. After all, he der vun dat got to pay der ransom. He arranges to make a big show of paying der ransom, but he tells de kidnapper to cheat him. Take der money und run. So de kidnapper does dat, und is all a huge tragedy und he is a victim und everyvun feels sorry for him. Oh, and der ransom money probably not real. After all, de kidnapper already got paid.”
“Right,” said Mr Wooster. “And Captain Dupree not only gets enough money to make it worth taking the risk, but also the perfect opportunity to hire herself some Jägers and see how they handle a land-based assignment before she takes them out to sea. But I think there is one other thing going on here that you haven't yet mentioned. I did give you a little clue earlier.” He smiled.
Ottokar thought. “No,” he admitted. “Hyu lost me.”
“Well, what's today's date?”
“De seventeenth... Ho! But der ransom is supposed to be paid on de tventy-first!”
“Exactly!” said Mr Wooster. “Never invite a Dupree to double-cross you, for she will do it far more thoroughly than you ever envisaged.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar. “She gets her very own tame schpark. Und de only person vot knows vhere Mrs Buckingham is vould be Mr Buckingham, und he can't say vitout incriminating himself.”
“And Mr Sherlock Holmes,” added Mr Wooster. “Although I have to say I'm not sure he would be of any direct use. I'm afraid she may try to kill him.”
Ottokar nodded sombrely. “Ja. Hy guess she probably alvays planned to keep Mrs Buckingham, but den she got a message saying to kidnap Mr Holmes too und he vosn't in her plan. Hy hope she not killed him yet.”
“It may not be as serious as that,” said Mr Wooster. “Like an idiot, I didn't ask the police what date was on the ransom note for him. It could be that she just wants to collect the ransom on him before she leaves. If making a profit on him is as easy as killing him, she'll go for the profit, I dare say.”
They reached the pub. “Vell,” said Ottokar, “vhichever vay it is, ve got to get dem off dat ship before she sets sail.”
Mr Wooster nodded. “Have you any ideas on that one?”
“Not yet,” replied Ottokar. “But hyu bet hyu life hy vorking on it.”
* * * * *
There had been a train, which was just as well, as it turned out. Consequently, Alice got to Mr Wooster's office just before ten the following morning, and found it already rather crowded. There were, of course, Mr Wooster and Ottokar, but there was also Dr Watson, who was looking determined and clutching his revolver. Behind Watson stood Mr Tufnell, the long-suffering administrator, who was looking even more melancholic than he normally did; his moustache drooped like a plant wilting in the heat. And sitting in front of Mr Wooster...
“Ah, Miss Davenport!” said Mr Wooster. “Here you are. Allow me to introduce Mrs Elizabeth Chadwick. She is my immediate superior, and she will be taking over your training from today.”
Alice gaped. Mrs Chadwick was tall, straight-backed, severe-looking, and dressed in deep mourning. She looked, in fact, very much like a headmistress, and her steel-rimmed spectacles enhanced the resemblance.
“Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Chadwick,” Alice managed politely, not entirely certain whether or not it was the truth.
“You too, Miss Davenport,” replied Mrs Chadwick.
“You're... taking over our training?” asked Alice. “Just like that? What's happened?”
“Simply the fact that Mr Wooster is unable to be in two places at once. He was recalled to London to deal with another incident, being the most experienced person we had to deal with it. During that investigation, the Chatterjee case came up in Kendal, and I gave him leave to go there and assist you with it.” She looked over her glasses. “Which involved some slightly heterodox action on his part, but we go by results, and those were very good. You did an excellent job among you. He returned to London after that and concluded the investigation, and then persuaded me to allow him to stay here for a while in order train you himself. He certainly made a good case; there really was no other suitable agent, you both showed remarkable potential, and the situation in his regular posting appeared to be stable for the moment.”
“And, er, now it isn't,” said Mr Wooster apologetically. “I have to leave the country as soon as possible. I had to talk Mrs Chadwick into allowing me to stay long enough to say goodbye to both of you.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry!” said Alice. “We'll both miss you.”
“I'll write when I can,” he promised. “And I know I'm leaving you in the best possible hands. I should tell you that Mrs Chadwick is not normally directly responsible for training new agents. She is too senior to do that.”
“But I intend to make a special exception for you two,” added Mrs Chadwick. “With the hope and expectation that you will both be training new agents yourselves very soon.”
“Is a shame hyu got to leave now,” said Ottokar, “ven de case not qvite in der bag.”
Mr Wooster shrugged elegantly. “It's the way things go sometimes, I'm afraid, Ottokar.” He smiled wryly. “But I understand that I've recently acted in such a way as to improve my chances of a longer recall next time.”
“Materially,” said Mrs Chadwick. “And now you'd better be gone, or you will miss your airship.”
Ottokar slapped him on the back, which almost sent him stumbling forward; but the Jäger was much more aware of his own strength now. “Hyu look after hyuself,” he said.
“You too, old man.” He turned to Alice and shook her hand warmly. “And you, the same. You'll make an outstanding agent, so long as you always remember to keep your temper.”
She smiled. “I'll try. Safe journey. The Greenwoods send their best wishes.”
There was silence for a while after he had gone, and then Mrs Chadwick said, “Right. Well, as Ottokar has just reminded us, we have a case to conclude. We can't just sit here.”
Alice drew out the pendant. “It's a kind of communicator. If the wearer is subject to a strong emotion, it will send an image of what they can see and hear to the pendant's twin. However, what the maid saw and heard was indistinct and confusing due to the after-effects of chloroform.”
“Make a note of that, Mr Tufnell,” Mrs Chadwick instructed. “We also have some information you don't know, Miss Davenport. The Jägers who were involved in both kidnappings are working for Captain Kerala Dupree of the Morning Star, currently lying at anchor in the docks. Last night Mr Wooster and Ottokar deduced between them that she was being paid by Arthur Buckingham, and we now have proof that they were correct. Dr Watson?”
“Yes, madam,” said Watson. “I posted some of our Irregulars near the ship, so that if Captain Dupree decided to send a message to Mr Buckingham, we could intercept it. She did, and we have.” He unfolded a piece of paper on which were written the words: “Of course he is here. Stop worrying. Dupree.”
Ottokar chuckled throatily. “Hy tink is about time he ought to schtart vorrying.”
“Yes,” replied Mrs Chadwick, “but he doesn't know that, and I intend to keep him in that blissful state of ignorance right up to the moment of his arrest. The problem we have at the moment is how to get Mrs Buckingham and Mr Holmes off that ship.”
“Well, she did offer Ottokar a job as first mate,” said Watson.
“She did?” asked Alice, surprised. “In that case, it's easy! Take the job, tell them you can cook as well, make them a first-class meal, and slip them all a mickey finn.”
“Hy tought of dat,” said Ottokar. “Is not going to vork. Hy give dem enough of anyting to knock out de Jägers, it kill de captain. Und even if hy do de special fried locusts for de Jägers or some odder ting vot de captain von't eat, is schtill der problem of knocking dem all out at vunce. If vun goes first, de odders vill be suspicious.”
“So do you have any alternative suggestions?” asked Mrs Chadwick. “You seem to be something of an ideas person.”
“Vell,” said Ottokar. “Dis Captain Dupree. Mister Vooster says she really tough.”
“Yes,” replied Mrs Chadwick, frowning. “Why?”
“Hyu tink she as tough as a Jäger?”
“Not if she got hurt,” said Mrs Chadwick. “She is, after all, human. But I would certainly say, from what we know of her, that she could fight a Jäger and stand a chance of winning. Well, perhaps not you, because you are clearly unusually intelligent. But most Jägers.”
Ottokar grinned broadly, displaying all his fangs. “Dat is de best news so far today,” he said.
Mrs Chadwick stared at him. “Why, for heaven's sake? It's bad enough that there are already three of your kind on that ship, without their being led by someone who could outfight them!”
“Vosn't tinking of getting her to fight dat lot,” said Ottokar. “Hyu seen her, Doctor Vatson. Don't hyu tink she got a really nize hat?”
“Well... yes... but...” said Watson. “Hats again! What is it with your people and hats?”
“Hy told hyu. Dey impawtent.” Ottokar's grin broadened still further. “Und Drauka not got a hat right now.”
“Drauka,” said Alice, grinning back at him. “That would be the lady who's bigger than you and famous for her left hook, right?”
“Dat's de vun,” said Ottokar happily. “Ve vant a distraction, all dat's got to happen is hy go in Drauka's place und tell her dere's a captain vot can fight like a Jäger out dere vearing a goot hat.”
“Ottokar,” said Alice. “That is actually brilliant.”
“Und vhile all dat is going on, ve schlip round der back of der ship in anodder boat, ve trow a grapnel line, hy climb on board, find de prisoners und get dem off. Probably got to be me because hy can break de doors.”
“That's not a bad plan,” said Mrs Chadwick, “but it's still dangerous.”
“We could make it a bit safer by encouraging the fight away from the ship,” said Alice. “Look, we can do this. We've got the police. We've got the Irregulars. And we have, at least potentially, got quite a lot of Jägers.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar. “If is a hat fight, dey all vant to come und vatch.”
“Well,” said Mrs Chadwick. “I have to admit, I think that's better than what I had in mind. I was going to lure Dupree ashore and have her arrested – we've got enough evidence to do that – but that doesn't get the Jägers out of the way, whereas I think your plan will.”
“So hyu know about Jägers, then,” said Ottokar.
“Indeed. I have made it my business to do so, since I am about to start training one. I had Mr Wooster brief me thoroughly. I am now familiar with the etiquette of hat challenges.” She permitted herself a small smile. “And allow me to congratulate you personally on the acquisition of that fine shako you are currently wearing.”
“Danke,” said Ottokar.
“I suppose she can't turn it down, can she?” asked Alice suddenly. “It would really mess things up if she did.”
“Ho no,” replied Ottokar. “She do dat, she lose de reschpect of her crew. Und she vill know dat.”
“All right,” said Mrs Chadwick. “We're going to do this. Dr Watson, do you still want to help?”
“Anything I can do, madam,” replied Watson.
“Good. I am going to requisition a police launch, and I should like you and your revolver to be on board. Ottokar, you already know what you have to do, but when you've made certain the fight is going to take place, I want you to slip away to the pub where you and the other two met last night. We'll send one of the Irregulars to fetch you. As for you, Miss Davenport, I suppose you can row?”
“Of course,” said Alice. “I went to that sort of school.”
“Excellent. I shall arrange a rowing boat for you, then. Your job is to be the intrepid reporter, and you will be far safer doing that from the river. Ask as many silly questions as you like and make a great show of writing earnestly in a notebook; your real job, of course, is to ensure that nobody is watching the Morning Star. Think you can do that?”
Alice nodded. “I'm pretty sure I can. What shall I do with my luggage, by the way?”
“Just leave it here,” replied Mrs Chadwick. “We'll collect it later. For the moment, you'd better go down to the docks with Ottokar and wait in the pub with him until I can get you a boat.”
“Well,” said Alice, once she and Ottokar were safely out of earshot. “What do you think of her?”
“Hy tink she probably quite nize,” replied Ottokar. “But she looks schcary. Maybe dat is so pipple vill take her seriously.”
“I'm not sure I like her,” said Alice. “I mean, just sending Mr Wooster off like that before we've finished the case.”
“She probably got no choice. Mister Vooster keeps saying dey short of agents.”
“I suppose you're right.” She paused. “Incidentally, do you get the impression Mr Wooster's been in some kind of disgrace?”
“Ja. Hy tink tings may have gone vest a bit vhere he vos vorking.”
“Well, things do that sometimes,” said Alice, “but, come on. You know him. He's really sharp. Do you really think it would have been his fault if they did?”
“Hy don't know. Ve can all make mischtakes. Und he alvays trying to do too much.”
“That's because he's conscientious, though,” Alice objected. “I know he's trying to do too much, but he's doing it to the best of his ability. I think she's been too harsh with him.”
“Hyu don't know vot happened,” Ottokar pointed out. “Und hyu remember de last ting he said to hyu. Keep hyu temper. He vouldn't vant hyu to lose it on his behalf. Hyu got to vork vit dis lady.”
“Yes, I know what he said,” replied Alice, a little impatiently. “But when I lose my temper, it's because things aren't fair. And I really don't think she's been fair with him.”
Ottokar turned to look at her. “Is probably not de best idea to get too fond of Mister Vooster,” he said. “Vould be fine if ve veren't in dis business. Hy'd be cheering hyu on. He a goot man. But vit tings being as dey are...”
“Ottokar!” snapped Alice. “I really hope you're not trying to suggest what it sounds like.”
“Vell, if hyu in any doubt hy could make it plainer,” replied Ottokar, unfazed.
“Oh, don't.”
They walked out into the street in silence, placid on Ottokar's side, considerably less so on Alice's. It was Ottokar who broke it.
“Hyu vant to take a cab or get de airship?” he asked, as if nothing had happened.
She looked at him. “Oh, what does it matter? Better be a cab.”
“Now, hyu listen,” said Ottokar. “Hy don't mind if hyu vant to shout und sulk at me for a vhile und get it off hyu chest, but vhen ve get to de docks it got to schtop. Ve got vork to do. Hokay?”
“Oh, Ottokar!” she said. “I'm sorry. It's not your fault. It's not you I'm angry with at all, really. I know you're not trying to hurt me.”
“No. Hy trying to help hyu not to hurt hyuself.”
“You... may actually be a bit late,” she admitted. “I didn't realise how things were going myself until she just suddenly walked in and sent him away like that.”
“Hy don't suppose anyvun did,” replied Ottokar soothingly. “Und at least hyu got to say gootbye to him.”
She sniffed. “Yes. He's a gentleman. Manners are important to him. Even if half Europa's on fire, he won't rush off without saying goodbye to his trainees if he can possibly avoid it.”
“Ja. Like hy say, he a goot man. Is a big shame. But, hey, maybe he go on doing goot schtuff und dey bring him back.”
“I hope so. Ottokar, you won't tell anyone, will you? Not even Charles and Hilde? I might tell Hilde myself one day, but only when I'm ready.”
“Hyu yust like a sister to me. Hy don't say a vord.”
“Thank you. Oh, and... speaking of Charles and Hilde, they send their love, and they've promised you a parcel soon. Hilde built me a portable heat exchanger to cool things down. She didn't have time to build you one as well before I had to catch the train, but she says it will be in the post.”
“Dey goot pipple,” said Ottokar.
Alice smiled, a little wanly. “And you're good people too. Come on, then. Let's go and pull off a famous victory.”
“Und den hyu write und tell somevun all about it,” said Ottokar. “So... ve better get it right, hokay?”
The smile widened a little. “All right... brother.”
* * * * *
“All right,” said Mrs Chadwick briskly. “Are we ready?”
Ottokar beamed. “Hyu bet. Drauka on her vay to der ship now, und she got an audience. Hy made sure some of hyu Irregulars knew vot vos going to happen.” He nodded at Dr Watson. “Soon, every Jäger on de docks is going to know, und most of dem, hy reckon dey decide to take deir lunch break right about now.”
“Well done,” said Mrs Chadwick. “You, Miss Davenport, scull upriver a little. We're going to take up position towards the opposite bank. When you see Dupree and her crew leave the ship, signal us.”
“Aye, aye, ma'am,” said Alice. She rowed away, the oars plashing gently in the water.
Ottokar strode on board the police launch and pulled up the gangplank behind him. “Is only two tings wrong vit dis plan,” he said cheerfully. “Vun is hy don't get to see de fight. De odder is hy don't get to be in de fight. Hy vouldn't mind a round vit dat Captain Dupree.”
“I suppose you may get the chance if she beats your friend Drauka,” said Watson. “But... I mean... she's...”
“She's vot?” asked Ottokar.
“Well. I mean, she's a woman.”
“Vot dat got to do vit it? She could kick hyu backside from here to Schcotland.”
Watson subsided. Mrs Chadwick appeared to be stifling a chuckle. Getting her features under control, she called out to the police pilot, “All right. Bring her out, Sergeant.”
The launch pulled gently away from the waterfront, taking a diagonal course across the river so that it ended up more or less opposite the Morning Star. Watson leaned over the rail, shading his eyes against the sparkle of the sun on the water.
“There's Miss Davenport,” he called. “She's waving.”
“Excellent!” said Mrs Chadwick. “Pull up close to the target.”
The sergeant obeyed. Soon they could all hear the commotion on the other side of the ship. Above the general hubbub of the Jägers, Dupree's voice rang out clearly.
“There,” she called mockingly. “See how you like that. I reckon a few extra scars will suit you better than my hat, and that's all you'll get from me.”
“Hyu tink?” roared another voice, unquestionably Drauka's.
“Vow,” murmured Ottokar. “Drauka's hurt. Now she going to be really furious.”
There was a yip from Dupree which certainly seemed to bear this out. Ottokar was already throwing the grapnels. “You go with him, Dr Watson,” said Mrs Chadwick. “If the fight is over too soon, Ottokar will need cover.”
Watson nodded. Ottokar hauled on his line to test it, and then started climbing. Watson followed him. “Hyu,” said Ottokar, “schtay on deck und keep hyu head down. If dey come back on board, hy relying on hyu to make lots of trouble und noise.”
“But how will you get the prisoners off if that happens?” asked Watson.
“Hy punch a hole in der side. So hy hope hyu can schvim really goot.”
“I can definitely do that. Er. Thank you for the warning.”
“Hyu velcome. But hy hope hy don't have to do dat. Dose ship timbers, dey really tough. Hyu get schplinters.”
“I suppose,” said Watson thoughtfully, as they eased themselves over the rail, “we couldn't find a way to pull up the gangplank?”
“Is a goot idea in teory, but hy expect Dupree got a gun,” replied Ottokar. “She a pirate, after all.”
Watson nodded. “True. We could hardly avoid being seen. Although I think the fight is moving a little upriver.”
“Ja. Dat vould be Alice. She talking to der audience und sculling a liddle at de same time. She moving dem vitout dem knowing it.”
“All right,” said Watson. “I'll hide behind this coil of rope and keep my revolver ready. Good luck!”
“Hyu too.”
Ottokar disappeared below deck. It was dark, and he almost tripped on the ladder; he had been a soldier, not a sailor, and his experience of ships was limited. There was a long corridor, and as his eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom he saw that there were several doors leading off it.
He tried the first one. It opened onto a generously sized cabin with a lot of purple and orange silk cushions scattered around. Dupree, then. Opposite that was an unoccupied cabin, and two more cabins followed, one on each side. These were both smaller, and each contained two hammocks rather than one. There were a few belongings in these, presumably the worldly goods of Bavo, Juri and Helmut. Next came various store cupboards and the galley, and then, at last, a locked door. Ottokar tapped on it.
“Anyvun dere?” he asked.
There was no reply. Thinking he might well have been mistaken for one of the crew, he smashed the lock and opened the door. In front of him, lying in a huddle on the floor of a room no larger than a broom cupboard, was none other than Mr Sherlock Holmes, trussed up like a chicken and gagged effectively and viciously.
Ottokar quickly knelt down and released him. “Hyu don't look so goot,” he said, concerned.
“I'm not,” Holmes croaked. “They haven't given me any food or water. I think they're going to dump me in the estuary.”
“Ho, no, dey not. Can hyu valk?”
“I'm not sure.”
“Hold on. Hy know vhere dey keep de fresh vater. Hy get hyu some, und den maybe hyu in a better position to answer. But ve got to be qvick. Vhere's Mrs Buckingham?”
“I don't know, but I deduce she is probably here somewhere.”
“Hokay. Hy find her. Vhen hyu had a drink, hyu can tell me how hyu vorked dat vun out.”
Ottokar ran back to the stores, found a large jug and a glass, filled the jug with water and hurried back to Holmes. “Ve get hyu someting to eat later,” he promised. “Is notting very interesting on board anyvay. Main ting right now is hyu need to drink.”
“Thank you,” said Holmes.
“Hyu velcome. Hy be back vhen hy find Mrs Buckingham.”
Mrs Buckingham turned out to be in the room opposite, and thankfully in a much better state. Since Dupree had a use for her, she had been allowed food and water; but she shrank away when she saw Ottokar.
“Is all right,” said Ottokar soothingly. “Hy not vun of de crew. Hy come to get hyu und Mister Holmes out of here.”
“Mr... who?” stammered Mrs Buckingham.
“Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. Hyu sister called him in to look for hyu. Vot dey didn't know vos dat dey vere dealing vit Jägers.” He paused. “Hy sorry about dat. Hy mean, not my doing, but, hyu know, my pipple.”
“And you are...?” she asked, slowly.
“Ottokar. Mister Holmes is not in a goot vay. Dey vere going to kill him, so dey didn't take der trouble to feed him. Hy got him some vater, so maybe he a liddle better now. Hy tink, der vay tings are, maybe ve get hyu off der boat first und den see about Mister Holmes.”
“Well. All right.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Mr Ottokar, do you know if my husband is behind this?”
“Ho ja. He in it up to his neck. But not hyu sister.”
She sighed. “I wouldn't suspect Constance. But she's afraid of Arthur, so there wasn't a great deal I could do to enable her to back me up. Did Katya...” She considered her words carefully. “Did Katya report anything out of the ordinary?”
“Der pendant? Ja. Vos a clever device hyu made dere. Dat's how ve knew dere vos Jägers.”
Mrs Buckingham smiled. “Oh good. Is Katya all right now?”
“She vos vhen ve last saw her. Now, come on. Ve not got much time. Ve got a distraction happening right now, und it may not last much longer.”
Mrs Buckingham gathered up her skirts and hurried after Ottokar without further ado. He led her up on deck and over to the grapnel lines. “Now, qvick as hyu can!” he said.
A yell went up from the waterfront. “Hey!”
“Vhoa,” said Ottokar. “Hokay. Make dat even qvicker. Doesn't matter if hyu fall. Dey'll catch hyu below.”
“I...” began Mrs Buckingham, then saw what was happening and vaulted over the rail with astonishing rapidity for someone wearing a full crinoline. Watson leapt out from behind the coil of rope. Dupree, bruised, bloodied, furious, and noticeably hatless, was charging up the gangplank like an avenging angel, brandishing her cutlass.
Watson shot and missed. “Get below!” shouted Ottokar, rushing forward to meet Dupree. “Hy hold her off. Hyu see to hyu friend. He not too goot at der moment.”
Watson needed no further instruction. Ottokar planted himself at the top of the gangplank. “Hokay,” he said. “So hyu preddy goot at fighting Jägers. Maybe hy not qvite as tough as Drauka, but hy only got to be tough enough.”
“You traitor,” snarled Dupree. “You could have been my first mate.”
“Hy vouldn't vork for a kidnapper,” replied Ottokar implacably.
That brought her up short. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“Ottokar. Yust Ottokar.”
“Vot going on up dere?” demanded Drauka, from below. Ottokar, to his great delight, could see that she was now wearing Dupree's hat.
“Hey!” That was Bavo's voice. “Keptain! Vot der dumboozle...?”
“You lunkheads!” shouted Dupree. “Get up here and back me up! That Ottokar's on board without my permission.”
But Drauka had heard the word “kidnapper”, and now she saw a quick flurry of grey silk as Mrs Buckingham swung desperately on the grapnel line and momentarily into view. She positioned herself squarely at the foot of the gangplank.
“Hy don't tink so, boys,” she said. “Ve got enough pipple vot don't like us as it is. No need to give dem goot reasons.”
“Stop interfering, you!” yelled Dupree.
“Vot? Hyu vant anodder fight?”
“Let us past!” rumbled Helmut. “She our boss. She pay goot money.”
“Hyu yust try it und hy bash hyu into der vater,” retorted Drauka. “Hy hurt, but not so bad hy can't punch.”
Dupree, increasingly frustrated, was standing at the top of the gangplank weighing her options. Had she not just lost the fight with Drauka, she would not have hesitated to take Ottokar on. But she too was hurt, and she had not the resilience of a Jäger. Besides, she had just learnt the hard way that if you get in an unexpected lightning cutlass slash on a Jäger, you will probably not disable your opponent as you would if they were human. You will just annoy them, and that is unlikely to improve your chances.
She was just considering the negotiation option when Helmut and his two friends took the decision out of her hands. They all charged Drauka together. The barkeeper managed to keep her promise to Helmut in spectacular fashion, landing a round-arm punch on his jaw that sent him crashing through the railings into the water, but the other two knocked her down and flew past her. Dupree staggered, catching the rail.
“See to him,” she said.
Ottokar caught up a spar and brought it down with all his force on the top of the gangplank. It snapped away from the ship, tossing Dupree and the other two members of her crew into the water alongside Helmut. There was a cheer from the shore. Even those who were undecided about Ottokar were most definitely on Drauka's side, and any two Jägers who knocked her down, well, as far as they were concerned, those two Jägers deserved a good dunking.
Watson's head popped up from below. “Is it safe?” he hissed. “He's weak, but he can walk.”
“Safe as ve going to get,” replied Ottokar. “Hyu get him off. Ven hyu get back to der boat, tell dem hy going to fish out de Captain. She a goot fighter, but she hurt qvite bad. She von't schtay afloat long.”
So saying, he leapt into the river. The three Jägers were already climbing out onto the bank, to an accompaniment of derisive noises, and the police were starting to arrive in numbers. Drauka was on her feet again, dusting off her new hat with care and pride. Alice, who had pulled sharply back to avoid all the splashing, rowed closer again. “So, Miss Drauka,” she said. “That was a truly exciting hat challenge. Perhaps you'd like to say a few words for the benefit of our readers?”
Ottokar grinned. Despite earlier events, Alice was enjoying herself. She would recover in time. Then he noticed with alarm that Dupree had stopped moving. A moment ago, she had been thrashing around in the water, but now she was ominously still. He quickened his stroke and reached her within seconds, hauling her up above the surface so that she could breathe.
She coughed, spluttered, and then flashed him a look of pure hate. “Isn't it enough for you to spoil all my plans?” she demanded. “Now you have to go and save my life too, so I have to be bloody grateful?”
“Hyu can be ungrateful if hyu like,” replied Ottokar. “Hy don't really care, vhichever vay. But hy got to save hyu life so hyu can schtand trial.”
“All right. I officially hate clever Jägers.”
“Vell, hy not exactly mad about hyu,” said Ottokar, “but hyu a goot fighter. Hyu can come und fight me any time ven hyu recovered. If dey don't hang hyu, vhich of course dey might.”
“Oh. Thanks a whole bunch,” spat Dupree.
* * * * *
“Would you believe it?” said Alice. “The Times actually bought my article. Seriously.”
Ottokar stirred the sauce, sniffed it, and added a little extra cumin. “Is goot. Hyu should tell Mrs Chadwick. Now hyu a real freelance journalist, is goot for cover.”
“Yes, but I'm not sure I'm any good at finding news stories if I'm not actually helping to investigate them. Still, it's a little extra cash for my savings account.” She peered into a pan. “Dare I ask what those are?”
“Oh, dose are for Drauka,” said Ottokar, with a grin. “Hy tought hy vould make her a liddle treat. After all, she vos a big help.”
“All right, then I won't enquire further,” replied Alice, smiling. “I'm glad she's able to come tonight. I think I'm going to like her, from what I've already seen and heard of her.”
“Ja, she goot. Und hy glad Mister Holmes is recovered enough now. Good ting his best friend is a doctor, ja?”
“Indeed,” said Alice. “And something tells me Mr Holmes won't let him write up this particular adventure. Not that it's Mr Holmes' fault. No matter how clever and well-prepared someone is, they're not going to be able to deal with three unexpected Jägers if they don't know what they're capable of.”
“Vos a learning experience,” replied Ottokar. “For both of dem, really. Hy tink der doctor knows us a bit better now, too. Und tonight dey going to learn dat some Jägers can cook.”
“Yes, and I'm glad they've both agreed to come. But honestly, Ottokar, did you absolutely have to invite Mrs Chadwick?”
“Ja. Hy tink hy did. But only because hy can't invite Mister Vooster. She schtanding in for him. Hy vanted everyvun togedder vot helped to solve der case. Except de Irregulars. Hy couldn't invite dem all. But hy did bake a whole load of bread rolls und cakes for dem.”
“Standing in for him? That really doesn't make me feel any better, Ottokar.”
“Vell, somevun's got to do it. Hyu got a better suggestion?”
Alice shrugged. “I suppose not. It's just difficult, that's all.”
“Hy tink dat's der door,” said Ottokar.
Alice nodded. “All right. I'd better go to the parlour and play hostess.”
It turned out to be Drauka, who had somewhat overestimated the time she needed to get there. “Ho!” she exclaimed. “Hyu de yournalist leddy.”
“That's right,” replied Alice, with a smile. “Alice Davenport. Ottokar tipped me off that there was going to be a hat fight. Would you like to see my article? It's going in the Times.”
“Hy read it ven it comes out,” said Drauka. “Is goot hyu write about Jäger culture.”
“Will you have a seat?” asked Alice.
“Danke.” Drauka sat. “Zo. Dis Ottokar, hy been tinking.”
“Oh yes?” asked Alice, non-committally.
“Vell. De odder day hy told him he ought to yoin der police. He vould look very dashing in der uniform, ja? Und next ting hy know, he helping to rescue kidnapped pipple und dere is police all over der vaterfront arresting de bad guys. So, vot hy vant to know is, vos he really in der police all dis time?”
It was not quite the truth, but it was near enough to keep both Alice and the requirements of the Service happy. “That's right,” she replied. “Plain clothes police officer. I mean,” she added, with a flash of inspiration, “it would be difficult to get a uniform to fit him across the shoulders, and besides, there's his hat. They couldn't possibly have asked him to take off his shako and wear a helmet.”
“Of course not! He von dat hat fair and sqvare,” said Drauka.
“I know. I was there. He got the rogue spark who killed my father. And his clank.”
Drauka considered this. “Hyu not his leddy friend, are hyu?”
“No. We're more like brother and sister.”
“Goot,” said Drauka, so transparently relieved that it was all Alice could do not to smile.
The doorbell rang again, and a few moments later Mrs Chadwick was shown in, looking as stiff and imperious as ever. “Good evening, Mrs Chadwick,” said Alice politely. “This is Drauka.”
Drauka held out a hand. “So hyu not de Qveen, den. Nize to meet hyu.”
“The Queen?” asked Mrs Chadwick, taken aback for once as she shook Drauka's hand. “May I ask why you thought I might be the Queen?”
“Saw her vunce from a distance. Hyu don't look much like her now hy tink about it, but hyu carry hyuself yust de same vay.”
Alice laughed. “I think if we were inviting the Queen round here, we might have a little more ceremony. That is, in the unlikely event that she would come at all.”
“I am, as a matter of fact, a police officer,” said Mrs Chadwick. Again, it was as close to the truth as was reasonable in the circumstances. “I was in charge of the kidnap investigation.”
After you took Ardsley Wooster off it, thought Alice bitterly, but she said nothing.
Drauka nodded. “Der man vot looked as if he could hardly valk. Did he get off der boat all right?”
“He did,” replied Alice quickly, grateful for the diversion, “and he and the man who helped him off will be joining us very shortly.”
“Yes,” said Mrs Chadwick. “He couldn't climb down in the usual way, so Dr Watson tied a rope around his shoulders and lowered him across the rail. The doctor is quite strong, but Mr Holmes is tall, and I must admit I was afraid at one point he was going to drop him. But we got him on board safely, without a soaking.”
“Mister... Holmes?” said Drauka. “Und Dr Vatson? Hyu not talking about Mister Sherlock Holmes, are hyu?”
“You've heard of him?” asked Alice.
“Vell, of course. Hy read de papers,” said Drauka. “Vos it him?”
“It was,” said Mrs Chadwick, “and you'll be meeting him very shortly.”
Drauka's eyes widened. “Mein Gott! How did Mister Sherlock Holmes get kidnapped by dat pirate leddy? He dealt vit much vorse.”
“You're forgetting there were three Jägers in the equation,” said Alice.
Drauka sighed. “Ho ja. Dose tree. If dey let dem out of prison, no Jäger here ever going to schpeak to dem again. Und dey certainly don't come in my bar no more.”
The doorbell rang again, followed shortly by the entrance of Sherlock Holmes himself, the faithful doctor in tow. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, bowing slightly.
“Good evening, Mr Holmes and Dr Watson,” said Alice. “Do come and sit down. You're looking a lot better now, Mr Holmes.”
“Indeed. I have no doubt that if you and your friends had not intervened, I should by now be floating upside down in the estuary. A salutary lesson; I shall not make the mistake of underestimating the Jägerkin again in future.”
“Vell, yust so hyu know,” said Drauka, “some of us are hyu friends. Hyu ever need information hyu can't get elsevhere, hyu yust come to my bar und ask for me.”
“Thank you, madam,” said Holmes. “You must, then, be Drauka?”
“Dat's me,” said Drauka proudly. “Hy de vun vot von der hat off de pirate leddy.” She pointed to it.
“Yes,” said Holmes. “I really need to learn more about these hat fights. They are clearly something of importance.”
Drauka beamed. “Hyu bet! Hy glad hyu get it. At dinner, hyu sit next to me, hey? Hy tell hyu all hyu vant to know.”
“It would be my pleasure, madam,” said Holmes gravely.
“I imagine,” said Mrs Chadwick, “that you would like to be filled in on the remaining details. As well as the four who were arrested on the waterfront, we have also arrested...”
Holmes held up a hand to stop her, grinning impishly. “Just because I was incapacitated for almost the entire course of the investigation, Mrs Chadwick, that does not mean that my brain ceased to function. I take it you have arrested Mr Buckingham.”
“We certainly have,” said Mrs Chadwick, “but I imagine that Dr Watson would have been able to tell you we intended to do so.”
“Oh, he did, but by that time I had already deduced that he was behind the kidnapping. No other person, apart from Miss Temple, could possibly have known enough to act so quickly, and Miss Temple would hardly have involved me simply in order to make me the victim of another risky kidnap attempt. That much quickly became clear, once I recovered from the initial nausea. One of the Jägers hit me on the head while abducting me, and I believe I was somewhat concussed.”
“And you were very lucky it wasn't worse,” added Watson.
“I had the foresight to pretend to be worse affected than I was, since I knew I could never match them for strength,” replied Holmes. “If I had demonstrated that I still had most of my wits about me, I dare say that would have invited another blow. Nonetheless, even without the pretence I was bad enough.”
“I never asked,” said Alice suddenly. “Has Mr Buckingham confessed?”
“Depends exactly what you mean,” replied Mrs Chadwick drily. “He's confessed to orchestrating his wife's kidnapping. Says he did it for the money, because his wife wasn't giving him as much as he wanted. I suppose he thinks that if he confesses to that, it might get him off the attempted murder charge he's facing.”
“Mine, his wife's, or both?” asked Holmes.
“Oh, his wife's. Captain Dupree got your attempted murder charge,” said Mrs Chadwick. “Mr Buckingham doesn't appear to have had any intention of killing you, just getting you out of the way until his wife was safely dead.”
“Then he's an amateur,” said Holmes.
“Hy should hope so,” said Drauka hotly. “Vos bad enough for poor Mrs Buckingham vitout finding out she vos married to a professional crook.”
“She won't be for long,” replied Mrs Chadwick. “Whatever the outcome of the case, there will be a divorce. She has already filed the papers.”
“Goot for her,” said Drauka.
“Oh, and the airship,” said Alice. “I assume Captain Dupree flew that?”
Mrs Chadwick nodded. “Oh yes, and that went on the charge sheet. She's a very good pilot in the air, as well as at sea. She and her sister were running their pirate operation from an airship before the Baron caught her sister.”
“Now that sounds like an interesting story,” said Alice.
“Quite colourful, indeed,” said Mrs Chadwick. “The Baron's troops brought the airship down. Kerala got away and Bangladesh didn't. Bangladesh, however, apparently killed nearly thirty of them before the Baron himself arrived on the scene and decided he would rather have her working for him than against him.”
“That's rather disturbing,” said Alice. “Obviously I don't know a great deal about Baron Wulfenbach, but from what I do know I had him pegged as fairly reasonable.”
“As spark overlords go, he's remarkably so,” replied Mrs Chadwick. “But, given the area he rules, it's understandable that occasionally he needs someone with her somewhat esoteric set of skills.”
Alice considered. “Just how bad are things over there at the moment, anyway?” she asked.
“It depends on exactly where you are,” said Mrs Chadwick. “The Baron's territory is stable enough, for the most part. Outside it... well. Not so much.”
“Is better here,” observed Drauka. “Ve Jägers, ve like to fight. But not all of us like to fight ven is completely pointless. Ven de vors yust go back und fort und nobody effer really vins. Some of us do, is true. But dat sort, dey schtay over dere.”
“But if you like fighting,” said Watson, curiously, “surely it can't be good for you here? You hardly ever get to do it at all.”
Drauka laughed throatily. “Is all hyu know, Doctor! Effery night at my bar, ve have a damn goot brawl.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar, walking into the room. “Of course, ve got to move all de furniture out of de vay before ve schtart. Oddervise, vould be expensive.”
“And... that's not pointless?” asked Watson.
“Is Jägers,” replied Ottokar simply. “Plenty of point. Der point being, is goot fun und ve don't hurt any poor devils vot yust happen to be in der vay.”
“Is like cricket,” added Drauka. “Ve might as vell ask vot is der point of dat.”
“Anyvay,” said Ottokar, “dinner is ready. Is dis vay. Und don't vorry about who takes vot person in to dinner, because dere is only six of us und is yust across der hall und ve don't do formal in dis house.”
“Goot,” said Drauka, greatly relieved.
Ottokar drew level with her. “Hy kind of owe hyu vun,” he said. “Hy only got hyu into dat hat fight so ve could get de prisoners off der boat. Und hy feel a bit bad about it, because hyu vos hurt.”
“Don't hyu vorry!” exclaimed Drauka. “Hy vosn't hurt so badly, und hy got a really goot hat out of it. Hyu don't owe me a ting.”
“Vell, hy tink hy do,” said Ottokar. “So hy made hyu some beetle cakes, specially.”
“Oh! Hyu shouldn't have. Hyu too goot.”
“I am still really struggling to understand this,” said Watson, just behind them. “I mean, the hats...”
Both Jägers turned round to face him, giving him their most patient looks.
“Hats,” they announced, in perfect unison, “are IMPAWTENT.”
* * * * *
“En garde!” cried Ardsley Wooster. Two rapiers glittered and clashed, and Ottokar von Luftschiff the Jäger looked up, despite himself, from the atlas in front of him.
It was a good bout, and by the time it finished both combatants were panting with exertion and mopping their brows. “Very well done, Miss Davenport,” said Mr Wooster approvingly. “You came extremely close to hitting me twice, and your parrying is getting a lot better.”
“Ja, vos great,” added Ottokar, who had learned to fence back in his Army days, when he was human. It seemed a very long time ago now, but he had not forgotten any of his military skills.
Alice Davenport flopped down next to Ottokar. “Thanks, but in this weather I think I'd really rather be looking at an atlas. Any chance we could open another window?”
Mr Wooster grinned. “Ottokar doesn't need to learn to fence, and you don't need to learn British geography. But, yes, certainly we could open another window. Shall we take a break and go and get a cup of tea before we do any more work?”
“That would be all right, but I think I should like a glass of lemonade even better,” said Alice.
“Me too,” agreed Ottokar. “Is too hot. Is London alvays like dis?”
“In August, yes, pretty much,” replied Mr Wooster. He opened two more windows. “A bad month to start your training, I suppose; but on the other hand, you are going to need to be able to work in all sorts of conditions.”
“Dere should be somevun selling lemonade in de schtreet,” said Ottokar. “Hyu vant me to go und get some?”
Mr Wooster nodded. “Not a bad idea. Here's a shilling. That should easily fill the big pitcher in the kitchen. I expect we'll be needing it.”
Ottokar nodded, and went off downstairs to the tiny, cramped kitchen. This was one of those anonymous government buildings which could be found, if you knew what you were looking for, in various corners of London; the ground floor was occupied by a row of shops, and most people, if they gave the slightest thought to what might be happening on the upper floors, assumed they were offices. Well, parts of them were, of course. Mr Wooster himself had an office in this building, and so did his administrator. Other parts... not so much. The gymnasium where the fencing practice had just been going on was not very like an office.
The big pitcher stood in a niche, a relic of the days not so long past when the building had not had piped water and it had been necessary to trot out to the pump, which still stood at the corner of the street. He took it and descended the rest of the way to the street. As he had suspected, a lemonade stall had materialised in response to the weather.
The man on the stall was short, bald and cheerful, and reminded Ottokar very slightly of his good friend Charles Greenwood. The sight made him wonder, not for the first time, if he had done the right thing. He had been working very happily as general assistant and bodyguard to Charles and his wife Hilde until Mr Wooster had persuaded him that it would be a good idea for him to train as an agent himself. Charles and Hilde were agents, although, being sparks, they were in a different branch of the Service; that was why they needed a bodyguard. But they, too, had thought it was a good idea that he should go and be trained. They had asked Mr Wooster if he could be reassigned to them on completion of his training, and Mr Wooster had said he would certainly do his best, although they were very short of agents at the moment. That was a little less definite than Ottokar would have liked, although he did appreciate the position Mr Wooster was in.
Two things, in the end, had swung it. The first was that the Greenwoods were not going to be far away, at least at first. They were going to be investigating something in Lewes, which meant that they could easily come for a visit once they had solved their case. Hilde had also promised to write regularly, which she had indeed been doing. And the second thing was the nature of the training itself. Ottokar was being offered the opportunity to learn a lot of things which would be of general use, under the tutelage of someone he respected and liked, and at the expense of the British Crown. That last aspect had puzzled him when he had started to think about it, since after all he was still a foreign national, even though he seemed to have settled here by default. But, being a Jäger, he tended to be direct, so he had asked Mr Wooster about it straight out, and Mr Wooster had replied with equal candour that Her Britannic Majesty thought it would be useful to have a few Jägers in the Service. Ottokar could not fault the royal logic on that one; there was no doubt that he had already made himself useful to it prior to becoming a member.
Besides, he liked this place. It was a haven of peace and tranquillity by comparison with the chaotic hellhole he had left, and, besides, people were much more inclined to accept him for who he was, despite his potentially alarming appearance. Oh, there were always those who were immediately frightened before he even had a chance to open his mouth; there was no getting away from that sort anywhere. But at least here there was a tradition of accepting eccentrics, as they liked to call it. People who didn't fit into what was called “normal”. Sparks, for instance.
Jägers.
“What was that, sir?” asked the stallholder. He didn't sound like Charles. He had a Cockney accent, for one thing.
“Ho, ja,” said Ottokar. “Sorry. Hy vos distracted. Can hyu fill dis up for me?”
The stallholder estimated the volume with a practised eye. “That'll be eightpence, sir.”
“Is fine.” Ottokar handed over the shilling. “Too hot today. Bet hyu doing a goot trade.”
“You bet your life, sir. They say it's going to last another week before it breaks, too.”
“Hmpf,” said Ottokar. “Hy vould love a goot tunderschtorm.”
“Each to their own, sir,” said the stallholder, handing him his change. “I'm rather hoping it breaks gently. My wife doesn't like thunder. Nearly got struck by lightning once, sir, up on Hampstead Heath, and she's never been happy around it since.”
“If hyu make enough money, maybe hyu buy her a lightning rod?”
“Could do worse, sir. Could do worse. There you go, now. Enjoy it!”
Ottokar carefully carried the full pitcher back up to the gymnasium, where Alice was sitting by one of the windows fanning herself energetically. “I'm really not sure why I bother,” she was saying. “It doesn't seem to make a lot of difference. The air's just as hot outside... oh, Ottokar! Thank you. That looks just what the doctor ordered.”
Ottokar set it down on the window sill. “Hyu velcome. Here hyu change, Mister Vooster. Hy yust go and get some glasses.”
The lemonade was not very cool, but it was fresh and delicious. No doubt the vendor had got up early in order to secure the best lemons from Covent Garden market. They all drank their fill, and then Mr Wooster pulled on his fencing mask again.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready for autumn,” replied Alice, with a sigh. “All right. But I'm going to want a bath after this.”
When the training session finally came to an end, they finished the lemonade and went down together to the street. By this time, there was a newsboy installed outside the building with a stack of evening papers, and Mr Wooster, as was his habit, bought one.
“Oh my,” he said. “Look. Adelaide Buckingham has been kidnapped.”
“Und who vould she be?” asked Ottokar.
Alice stared at him. “You really don't know?”
“No. Hy not got a clue.”
“Does Buckingham's Buckram mean anything to you?” asked Alice.
“Ho! Dat Buckingham.”
Alice patted her hat. “Exactly. This stuff. The stuff that makes it easy for amateur needleworkers like me to make their own hats. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd been kidnapped by a furious professional milliner.”
“Oh, there's still plenty of demand for their services,” said Mr Wooster, hailing a cab. “After all, it's not cheap, and you've also got to buy the wand to go with it. It's a brilliant idea, though.”
“And probably a very simple idea, if you're a spark,” added Alice.
“Which, of course, she is,” said Mr Wooster. The hansom drew up level with them, and all three climbed in.
“How does it vork, exactly?” asked Ottokar. “Hy know ven hyu buy it, is very soft like muslin, und then hyu use der vand to make it set rigid how hyu vant it. But how does dat happen?”
Mr Wooster shrugged. “How does any spark invention work? She may not even be able to explain it herself. Quite probably she just happened to want a hat when she started sparking. I mean, you've seen Mr and Mrs Greenwood in action. You know what they're like.”
“I could always show you when we get back, and you can see if you can make any sense of it,” Alice offered. “I've still got some. But it is really good – you don't have to steam it or anything.”
“Hy suppose hyu can't undo it?” asked Ottokar thoughtfully. “Hy mean, nobody could vave a vand about und make hyu hat collapse?”
Alice laughed. “Oh no. It locks the fabric permanently.”
Mr Wooster finished instructing the driver, and the hansom pulled out again into the street. At the corner by the pump, a long queue of people waited patiently by the lift leading up to the airship platform; the airbuses were a popular and inexpensive way to get around the city, but at this time of day they were invariably crowded.
“Dis kidnapping business,” said Ottokar, looking meaningfully at Mr Wooster.
Mr Wooster was well capable of reading faces, even if they did happen to be green and endowed with a formidable set of fangs. He shook his head. “No. This one's a police matter.”
Ottokar nodded, with a hint of resignation. To be honest, he was starting to get a little bored. London was an interesting city, but at the moment he seemed to be spending the bulk of his time here with his nose in an atlas. It was fascinating in its own way, but not actually exciting. He felt in need of some excitement. Helping Mr Wooster with a high-profile kidnapping case would have supplied plenty of that.
He and Alice got out at their lodgings, taking their leave of Mr Wooster. They had rooms, and a shared kitchen, in an unpretentious house in Kensington with a faded sign hanging outside which read “Park Hotel”. A smaller sign hooked underneath the first one read “No Vacancies”. It always did; there were never any vacancies at the Park Hotel, even when there were unoccupied rooms. This was a Service house, and members of the public looking for an actual hotel were therefore gently encouraged to move on.
“You know,” said Alice, opening the front door, “I've been thinking. I mean, you always cook. I think I'd like to learn, so that I can do it sometimes.”
“Hyu can't cook?” asked Ottokar, surprised.
“I've never had to,” Alice admitted. “My father had a maid, and she cooked, or sometimes we sent her out to the pub to fetch a meal in.”
“Vell,” said Ottokar, “hy be happy to teach hyu, but not tonight. Tonight is so hot ve yust having salad und cold schtuff. But ven it gets a liddle cooler, maybe ve make a schtart, hey? Or... vait. Ve nearly out of cake. Hy vos going to make anodder vun tomorrow, but maybe hy show hyu how to do it. Cake is easy. Goot place to schtart.”
“Thank you,” said Alice. “I'd really like that.”
It was cooler in the house. The building was old, solidly stone-constructed, and well shaded by the avenue of trees that grew between the pavement and the road. “Phew,” said Alice. “It's good to be inside. How long till dinner?”
“How long hyu vant?” asked Ottokar. “Is very qvick to make.”
“Have I got time for a bath?”
“Hyu go right ahead,” Ottokar replied. “Hy tink hy yust put my feet up for a vhile. Is a new inschtalment of dat schtory by Mister Boz.”
“Excellent! Then I'll go and light the geyser.”
The Park Hotel was the last word in modern comfort. It had hot running water, as well as cold. For most of the year, the fireplaces in the rooms were sufficient to provide all the hot water likely to be used, but in hot weather or when someone wanted a bath, the geyser had to be fired up. This was located in a sort of cupboard next to the bathroom, and it had a firebox underneath it not unlike the one used to power a steam engine. Alice checked the contents, shovelled some more coal into it, and lit it. When she was satisfied that she had a good blaze going, she closed the front of the box again and went to her room to select some clean clothes.
Ottokar, meanwhile, settled himself comfortably in his own room with his illustrated magazine. He had become a great fan of “Boz” since first discovering his work, and now he eagerly bought anything that carried his writing. Overhead, the geyser began to rattle into life, sending an assortment of creaking and clanging noises echoing around the entire plumbing system. It was a disturbance, but it certainly beat a zinc tub in front of the fire.
At about the same time, the hansom cab drew up in front of another house a little further from the centre, and Mr Wooster emerged. He walked through his trim little front garden to the door, which was opened deferentially by a fully garbed butler.
“Good evening, sir,” he said.
“Good evening, Gregson. You know, I really think in this weather you shouldn't feel the need to keep your jacket on.”
“Only to answer the door, sir,” replied Gregson. “I would not wish to be seen improperly dressed from the street. It would reflect badly upon the standards of this house.”
Mr Wooster smiled. “I would rather people thought I had inferior standards than that they thought I was cruel to my staff. Please take your jacket off, Gregson.”
“Very good, sir,” replied the butler, nonetheless ensuring the door was closed first. “Oh, and you have a telegram, sir.”
“Thank you.” Mr Wooster picked it up from the little table in the hall and opened it. It contained no indication of the sender, but that was not unusual in the Service.
“KEEP EYE ON BUCKINGHAM CASE STOP HOLMES NOW INVOLVED,” he read.
“H'mm,” said Mr Wooster to himself. “Interesting.”
* * * * *
“But Constance,” said Arthur Buckingham, “we don't need Mr Sherlock Holmes. We have the police doing everything they can. There are police officers all over London, but there's only one of Mr Holmes.”
“She's my sister, Arthur,” replied Constance Temple simply. “There may be only one of Mr Holmes, but he's remarkably clever, and he has very often solved cases which have floored the police.”
“Well, she's also my wife,” said Arthur, unnecessarily. “Believe me, I want her back just as much as you do, but we have to consider resources. What if we pay Mr Holmes and he gets nowhere? Then we'll still have to pay the ransom.”
“You're not paying Mr Holmes,” said Constance. “I am. What I do with my money is my own business.”
Arthur sighed. He was a tall, rangy man with a slight stoop and a well-kept moustache; his sister-in-law was a good deal shorter, but she had a straighter back and an altogether more determined air. “Well,” he said, “I won't argue, Constance. I just hope somebody finds poor Adelaide quickly.”
“I'm sure Mr Holmes will do it,” said Constance. “It's what he does best.”
A footman appeared carrying two visiting cards on a tray. Arthur examined them briefly.
“Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson,” he observed. “They certainly don't waste any time. Show them up, James.”
The great detective proved to be even taller than Arthur; there were heavy dark circles under his eyes betokening a recent lack of sleep, but his eyes themselves were bright and alert. Dr Watson hung back a little behind him. Arthur had heard something about Dr Watson; he was said to be a good doctor, and quite capable of being forceful when his professional judgement demanded it. With Holmes, however, he was clearly quite happy to subside into the background unless called upon directly.
“Mr Buckingham,” said Holmes. “Glad to meet you, sir. And good evening to you, Miss Temple.”
Arthur nodded. “An honour, Mr Holmes. I've heard a great deal about you. Constance here, in particular, speaks very highly of you.” He smiled at his sister-in-law; whatever his personal opinions on the wisdom of employing a private detective at this stage in the investigations, he was nonetheless fond of her and therefore keen to keep matters on an even keel between them. “Please sit down, gentlemen.”
They did. “Now,” Arthur continued, “I expect you'll be wanting to hear exactly what happened.”
“Not quite,” replied Holmes. “Miss Temple gave me all the relevant details on her initial visit. I have come to study the layout of this house, with your permission.”
“Oh! Well, I do have a floor plan, which should help you a great deal,” said Arthur. “I'm an architect by profession. Of course I didn't design this house – it's over fifty years old – but I have a collection of plans I use when training apprentices, and I drew this one up for that purpose. One moment.” He rang a bell, and another footman appeared, this one mechanical. Dr Watson looked startled.
“Mrs Buckingham is a spark, Watson, in case you had forgotten,” Holmes reminded him.
Arthur sent the clank off to find the plan. “I expect you'll still want to look round,” said Constance. “There may be clues to what happened.”
“There may indeed,” replied Holmes, “but I should certainly like to look at the plan first. It will be useful to fix it in my mind.”
The clank returned shortly with the plan in its hands, and Arthur directed it to pass it to Holmes. The detective studied it intently. “So,” he said. “Miss Temple tells me that Mrs Buckingham has her own room. Which one is it?”
“On the second floor,” replied Arthur promptly. “It's the large room that looks out over the back garden. The slightly smaller room next to it is a spare bedroom, and it was unoccupied last night. My room is on the other side of the bathroom, and Constance's room is opposite mine. The room between Constance's room and the spare bedroom is Adelaide's workshop.”
Holmes nodded. “And these smaller rooms on the floor above? Those, I assume, are servants' quarters?”
“That is correct.”
“And the kidnapper, or kidnappers, gained entry via the window?”
“They did,” Arthur confirmed. “It would already have been open in this weather. She would probably never have heard them.”
Holmes looked at him thoughtfully. “You seem very certain of that.”
“Well, they did leave ladder marks in the flower bed below the window, Mr Holmes,” said Arthur. “You can come and see them, if you wish. It must have been a very long ladder, but after all, window cleaners have them.”
“So do firefighters,” added Constance. “There is a fire station not too far from here. I suppose it may be worth asking them if they've had a ladder stolen.”
“And the other thing,” said Arthur, “is that anyone trying to reach her through the house would have had to be crazy. As you see, we have clank servants here. They don't need to sleep.”
“Indeed,” said Holmes, sounding as though he envied the clanks. “Very well. Perhaps you would care to show us Mrs Buckingham's room?”
Arthur obligingly led the way up to the floor above. “I haven't let anyone touch it,” he explained, earnestly. “I knew the police would want to see it as it was.”
“Very good,” said Holmes approvingly.
The bed was obviously unmade, but it showed no sign of any struggle; it looked for all the world as though someone had simply turned back the covers and picked up the unfortunate Mrs Buckingham in her sleep. Holmes frowned and sniffed, but the window was wide open and any trace of a scent must have long vanished.
“What are you looking for, Holmes?” asked Watson.
“Chloroform. Mrs Buckingham does not seem to have resisted her abductors, and that would appear to be the most likely reason. Sadly, I have no way of proving it directly.”
“Unless she was threatened into silence,” said Constance, with a shiver.
“I think you may calm yourself on that score, Miss Temple,” replied Holmes. “She did not even attempt to sit up, as she surely would have done if she had seen anyone approach. She was lifted out of the bed while still lying down.”
“How do you know that?” asked Arthur, impressed despite himself.
“I merely noted the arrangement of the lower sheet. I have made a study of such things,” replied Holmes. “Now, I had better examine the window.”
He did, thoroughly and at some length. He also poked his head out of it and looked first down towards the flower bed, then up towards the roof, then sideways in both directions. When he pulled it back in and turned to face the others, his face was alive with enthusiasm.
“Well!” he said. “We are not dealing with ordinary criminals here. These show very promising signs of intelligence. May I see the flower bed?”
“Certainly,” said Arthur. “Will you take the stairs or the lift?”
“I think I should prefer the stairs,” said Watson quickly. He had recently had the misfortune to get stuck in a lift returning home on the airship bus.
It was, after all, only two flights of stairs, and they were soon all standing on the back lawn looking at the flower bed. The indentations left by the ladder were very clear. Holmes gave them little more than a glance, then laughed unexpectedly.
“Just what I was expecting to find,” he said triumphantly. “Your wife's kidnappers are clever, Mr Buckingham, but they are not as clever as I am.”
“What do you mean?” asked Arthur.
“Just this. The ladder is a deliberate red herring. That was not how they got into your wife's bedroom.” Holmes crouched down, pointing at the impressions. “You see, these are not very deep. If the person who put the ladder here had carried your wife down it, the ladder would have sunk much more deeply into the ground. As it is, the ladder has borne no more than the weight of one person. Yet your wife is missing from her room. We know from the state of the bed that she did not leave by the window on her own; she was picked up, carried, and taken to the window. But she was not taken away via the ladder.”
“An airship?” breathed Constance.
“Indeed. If you care to go and look again at the window, you will see that there are a few strands of rope caught in the bottom of the pane. The rope came through the window from above, not from below. I surmise that the intruder was lowered to the level of the window, pulled himself or herself in along with a second rope, chloroformed Mrs Buckingham, lifted her out of bed, and tied the second rope around her so that she could easily be hoisted up to the airship. That suggests that we are dealing with, at the very least, three people: one to pilot the airship, one to enter the room and kidnap Mrs Buckingham, and another down below to plant the ladder.”
“Why would they take the trouble to make it look as though a ladder had been used?” asked Watson.
“Because, my dear Watson, any criminal in London can easily obtain a ladder, but it is not such a simple matter to get hold of an airship,” Holmes explained. “It is quite possible that the ladder they used is still on the premises. Any ladder would do. It need not have been long enough to reach a second-floor window; all that was required of it was to leave a pair of convincing impressions in the soil.”
“Ingenious,” said Arthur.
“Elementary,” said Holmes.
“Hardly that, Mr Holmes, with respect,” said Arthur. “The police noticed none of this.”
“The police have their methods. I have mine,” replied Holmes, with a pardonable touch of pride. “Well, now. I believe I have seen almost everything here that is necessary, for the moment. This narrows the field down quite effectively. There is just one more thing I should like to see, if I may.”
“The ransom note?” asked Constance.
“Precisely, Miss Temple.”
“Certainly,” said Arthur. “If you'd just like to come back up to the sitting room, I can show it to you.”
They trooped back up to the first floor, and Arthur unlocked a desk drawer and produced a long blue envelope. Holmes examined it carefully before proceeding to the contents. “How was this delivered?” he asked.
“The maid says a boy brought it, but she couldn't describe the boy,” replied Arthur.
Holmes shrugged. “No more than I expected, but sometimes the question is worth asking.” He took out a small pair of tweezers from a pocket and extracted the note delicately.
“You don't need to be so careful, Mr Holmes,” said Arthur. “The police have already seen it and checked for fingerprints. Nothing, of course. The criminals all know about that these days, and so they wear gloves.”
“Ah, so that would explain the traces of powder,” observed Holmes. “Good. They are becoming more thorough.” He unfolded the note. “H'mm. The usual trick.”
The note was made up of words cut from newspapers. It read: “If you wish to see your wife again, bring £10,000 to this location at 9.30 pm on the 21st. Come alone. Do not call the police.” Below it was drawn a crude map showing a location near the docks.
“So, of course, you did call the police,” said Holmes.
“As a matter of fact, no,” replied Arthur. “That was rather taken out of our hands. My wife's maid came in early with a cup of tea, found that her mistress had gone, ran round looking for her, ran back into her room in case she had been there all along, and panicked. She screamed, and the butler, not knowing what was going on, ran out into the street and buttonholed the constable on beat duty. Thankfully, that was accurately reported in the papers.”
Holmes raised an eyebrow silently.
“That is quite true, Mr Holmes,” Constance assured him. “I know it sounds as though we're trying to persuade the kidnappers that we haven't broken the terms that they unilaterally laid down, but it is nonetheless what happened. You can talk to both the maid and the butler if you wish.”
“The butler thought the maid had surprised an intruder,” added Arthur. “She isn't normally inclined to scream, and she sounded terrified. I heard her myself.”
“I should think the whole street did, Arthur,” said Constance. “Gave me quite a turn. I dropped my hairbrush.”
“I think I should like to speak to this maid,” said Holmes.
The maid was sent for, and shown into a small library with Holmes and Watson. “Now,” said Holmes. “My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is my friend and colleague Dr Watson. Your name, please?”
“Katya, sir.”
“You are Russian?”
The maid nodded. “Yes, sir. My full name is Ekaterina Ivanovna Burova.”
“I understand,” said Holmes, “that you are the person who first discovered that Mrs Buckingham was missing. Could you tell us how that happened?”
Katya swallowed. “Yes, sir. I always bring her a cup of tea first thing in the morning. I went in with it as usual, and she wasn't there. I didn't worry at first, sir, because I thought she might be in her workshop; she's a spark, and you know how sparks tend to work unusual hours. But she wasn't in there. I couldn't find her anywhere. I went back to her room, wondering if she'd taken it into her head to go out for a walk or something, with it being such a beautiful morning. I thought perhaps I'd better take her tea back downstairs and let someone else drink it before it got cold, and then make her a fresh one.”
“So you weren't worried about her at that stage?” asked Holmes.
“No, sir. As I told you, she's a spark. Sparks aren't predictable. They do odd things. It never occurred to me that she might be in any danger until I screamed.”
Holmes stared at her curiously. “Does that not normally happen the other way round?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Katya. “But whatever happened, it was not normal. I was just about to pick up the tea when suddenly I felt very dizzy and sick, and there were... colours, and strange voices. Men's voices, with very heavy German accents. I couldn't hear what they were saying. It was like suddenly having a snippet of dream, or maybe of nightmare, while I was fully awake. That was when I screamed, and that was when I realised that something was really wrong. As soon as I started screaming, though, the dream, or whatever it was, stopped. Just like that. As though it had been turned off like a tap.”
Holmes was frowning. “And you connected this... fugue, let us call it... with Mrs Buckingham?”
“Yes, sir. Don't ask me why, because I can't explain it. But I'm quite sure it had something to do with the mistress, and the more I reflect on it, the more I think so.” She must have caught a glimpse of something in either his expression or Watson's, because she added defensively, “And I'm as sane as either of you, sir. I'm not accustomed to seeing colours or hearing voices, and when I did, I didn't confuse them with what was really in the room. I knew they weren't physically there, sir.”
“And is this the first time anything like this has happened to you, then?” asked Holmes, quieting Watson with a quick impatient gesture.
She nodded. “Yes, sir. I'll swear it.”
Holmes gave her a thoughtful look. “You certainly give every appearance of sanity,” he said. “Now, Dr Watson, I realise you've been itching to give your professional judgement. Perhaps you would like to honour us with it now?”
“Only to say I agree with you, Holmes,” replied Watson. “This young woman has had an extraordinary experience, but she has also recounted it coherently and kept it clearly distinguished from events taking place in the real world around her. She is sane. What happened to her is, perhaps, less so.”
“Do you have any medical explanation for it?” asked Holmes.
Watson shook his head decisively. “No. Not unless, Miss Burova, you have recently suffered a sharp blow to the head or similar injury.”
“Nothing of that kind, Doctor,” the maid assured him.
“Then the explanation is not medical,” said Holmes. “As to what it may be, I confess I am quite as much in the dark as you are at the moment.
“When you find it, sir,” said Katya, “please, would you mind very much telling me what it is?”
“I shall make a point of it,” Holmes promised. “I imagine it was quite a frightening experience.”
“Very, sir,” she said, with feeling.
As they walked out into the street, Watson said, “What on earth do you make of all that, Holmes?”
“A most interesting puzzle, my dear Watson,” Holmes replied. “As yet, though, I think we have nowhere near all the pieces.”
* * * * *
The next day dawned a little cooler, to the relief of most people, with the possible exception of the man with the lemonade stall. Ottokar was already in the kitchen cooking breakfast when Alice wandered in.
“Goot morning!” he said cheerfully. “Hyu schleep vell?”
“Not very,” Alice admitted. “I was too hot and I kept waking up. How about you?”
“About de same, but is hokay,” replied Ottokar. “Ve don't need as much schleep as hyu.”
“At least there seems to be a bit of a breeze this morning,” said Alice. “That makes a difference. I hope it keeps up.” She sat down at the table. “Any letters this morning?”
“No. Hy tought ve might get vun from Hilde today, but dey probably busy doing schpark schtuff.”
Alice sighed. “I hope that's all it is.”
“If dey get into danger, hy sure Mister Vooster vill tell us,” said Ottokar.
“I'm not,” replied Alice. “Not because I doubt Mr Wooster. Mr Wooster is conscientious, and he's also brilliant at what he does. But he can't know everything all the time. He's like that clank Charles made, the one who turned out to be so good at juggling. The difference is that Mr Wooster doesn't juggle coloured balls, or glass bottles, or Indian clubs, or even torches. He juggles missions. Assignments. Plots. Ultimately, people's lives. Including his own, of course. No wonder he's so serious. He can never afford to relax in case he drops something.”
“Mister Vooster is notting like dat damn schtupid clank,” Ottokar protested. “Ja, it yuggled very vell, but dat vos all it could do.”
“Well, anyway,” said Alice. “You see what I'm driving at. Are those muffins you're toasting there?”
Ottokar grinned. “Hyu bet hy toasting muffins. Vot hyu vant vit dem?”
“Have we still got any greengage jam?”
“A liddle. Maybe enough for about two muffins.”
“That's fine. I can't eat more than two. Unless you want some as well?”
“No. Hy having de lemon curd. Und dis.” He pointed to the contents of the frying pan; as usual, they seemed to be mostly mushrooms. Ottokar loved mushrooms, especially for breakfast. “Hyu vant some?”
“It smells lovely, but not in this weather. It's still too hot for a cooked breakfast,” Alice decided. “I really hope Mr Wooster has something a little less energetic than fencing planned for today. Apart from the heat, everything aches.”
“It vill. Shows hyu doing it right. But don't vorry. It gets easier.”
“I hope so!”
The doorbell rang. Collins, the elderly caretaker who also functioned as general factotum around the place, went to answer it; his slow, deliberate tread was audible from where they were. A few moments later, Mr Wooster himself appeared in the kitchen.
“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” he said, “but we have what you might call a situation.”
“Are Charles and Hilde all right?” asked Alice.
“Absolutely fine, as far as I know,” Mr Wooster reassured her. “It's completely unrelated to them, you'll be glad to hear.”
“Vell, even if de vorld's ending, ve need breakfast,” said Ottokar. “Hyu vant some? Hy can do some extra muffins.”
“The world is not ending,” replied Mr Wooster, “and thank you for your kind offer, but I did make a hasty breakfast on the way over here.”
“So what exactly is going on?” asked Alice.
“Well,” said Mr Wooster, “I take it you've heard of Mr Sherlock Holmes?”
They both nodded.
“Last night I was informed that he'd taken on the Buckingham case. This morning, I find that he has disappeared.”
Alice and Ottokar looked at each other. Ottokar asked, “Is he vun of ours?”
“Great Scott, no,” replied Mr Wooster. “I think the best way of putting it is that Mr Holmes is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a team worker. On the other hand, he is undoubtedly a national asset. He is regularly consulted by important foreign potentates. Rumour has it that Baron Wulfenbach himself has had occasion to use his services more than once. Therefore, if Mr Holmes disappears, the Service is... interested.”
“Ja, und hy as interested as anyvun, but hy hope hyu don't mind if ve eat,” said Ottokar.
“Of course not. Please carry on,” said Mr Wooster.
“So what happened?” asked Alice. “I take it we're clear he didn't just vanish of his own accord in order to follow up a lead? I've heard he's a master of disguise.”
“He is, but there's no doubt on this occasion,” replied Mr Wooster. “He slipped out early, leaving a note for his landlady to say that he would be back by half past six. He is not in the habit of leaving notes like that for Mrs Hudson unless he knows he is going into danger. She gave him until a quarter past seven, and then alerted the police, who promptly contacted me.”
“Do ve know vhere he vent?” asked Ottokar.
Mr Wooster shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. It would make things a good deal easier if we did. So... we're just going to have to find him.”
“We?” asked Alice.
Mr Wooster smiled. “Well, you are the only two agents who are free at the moment, and I'm free in a manner of speaking because I have the time booked for the purpose of training you, so... yes. We.”
Alice grinned. “Splendid! Much as I'm enjoying the fencing, I have to say I'm glad of a change today.”
“Ja! Real vork. Is goot,” said Ottokar, through a mouthful of fried mushrooms.
“I'm glad you're both so enthusiastic, because we need to get going as soon as you've finished eating,” said Mr Wooster. “We need to see Dr Watson before he starts his surgery this morning. If he hasn't disappeared too, of course.”
Dr Watson had not disappeared, though he was naturally upset to discover that his friend had. He clearly knew Mr Wooster already; when introduced to Alice and Ottokar, he viewed the latter with a curious mixture of emotions including both minor anxiety and extreme medical curiosity. He was, however, unfailingly polite, so he cleared all the extraneous emotions out of his face with some effort and declared himself delighted to meet both of them. He was, however, half angry with Holmes.
“If he knew he was going into danger,” he said, “he could at least have taken me. I'm an old military man. Danger is something I'm used to.”
“Hy vos in der Army, too,” said Ottokar. “Hyu ever fight on de Continent?”
“No,” said Watson. “There's danger, and then there's danger.”
Ottokar nodded. “Is vy hy a Jäger now. It vos all very dangerous. Hy found some of de potion und tought, dis vun hy vin, vhichever vay it goes. Hy might die und den not have to vorry about de chaos any more, or else hy get to be a Jäger und hy can deal vit de chaos.”
“You just found it?” asked Watson curiously. “I thought people had to be chosen to become Jägers.”
Ottokar shrugged. “Normally. But hy vos running avay, und hy vent und hid in dis veird building, und dere it vos.”
“Brave of you,” said Watson admiringly. “You do know there's a third possibility?”
“Ho ja. Sometimes hyu don't die but it really messes hyu up.” He shrugged. “If dat happened, hy had a knife.”
“You're very philosophical,” said Watson. “I'd love to talk to you more later, but right now we need to find Holmes. What got into him, to rush off like that on his own?”
“It was very early in the morning, you need your sleep, and it's quite probable he didn't want to put you into danger too,” replied Mr Wooster. “And, in fact, you are much more useful to him here than wherever he is. You may be able to give us some vital clues that will lead us to him.”
“I certainly hope so, Mr Wooster,” said Watson. “Well, as I think you know, we're working on the Buckingham case at the moment.”
“Yes,” said Mr Wooster. “Please tell us what you know about that. When a detective goes missing, the first point of investigation is generally the case they're currently working on. Criminals tend to get rather twitchy when they know someone like our Mr Holmes is on their tail.”
“And with good reason,” Watson agreed. “He has a remarkable talent, and therefore of course he has enemies in the underworld. These ones seem to have either more money or better organisational skills than most.” With that, he launched into an account of the events of the previous evening.
“That's very interesting,” said Mr Wooster, when he had finished. “And if Holmes' disappearance is connected with the Buckingham case, someone must have worked uncommonly fast. I think it's unfortunately possible that one of the servants has been bribed.”
Watson nodded. “That has occurred to me. Either someone in the house carried information to the kidnappers, or there's another possibility. When Holmes came out with his deduction about the airship, we were standing out in the garden. Someone could have been listening outside.”
“Is it a big garden?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Yes, but that doesn't matter,” replied Watson. “There's a path running alongside it, between the Buckinghams' garden and that of the house next door. There's quite a high hedge. Anyone could have been standing behind it, listening to every word Holmes said.”
Ottokar was frowning. “Dat maid,” he said. “Hy tink she impawtent. Tell me again vot it vos she saw.”
“She said she saw colours and heard voices, but she couldn't hear exactly what they were saying. And then it was all cut off suddenly,” said the doctor. “Oh! And I forgot to tell you the first time round, but she said the voices were male and had heavy German accents.”
“Yerman accents? Dat is interesting. Very interesting.”
Watson looked at him curiously. “Do you think she saw something real?”
“Is qvite likely. After all, she does vork for a schpark.”
Watson blinked.
“You're not used to sparks, then, Doctor?” asked Alice. “I think Ottokar is probably quite right. He's been working for two of them. He is very well used to the odd things that tend to happen around sparks.”
“Hy vant to see dat maid,” said Ottokar. “Hy preddy sure she got a schpark gadget. Even if she got no idea vot it really is.”
“Very well,” said Mr Wooster. “The maid goes on the list, then. But we have some other things to do first.”
Ottokar grinned. “Like, hyu mean, find some pipple vit heavy Yerman accents?”
“You look as though you have an idea for doing that,” said Alice.
“Vell, hy hate to mention de obvious, but...”
“Well, yes,” said Alice. “You have a heavy German accent. We can all hear that. How does that help you find other people with the same accent?”
“Let me put it anodder vay,” said Ottokar patiently. “How many pipple have hyu met in London vot have an accent like mine und vot aren't Jägers?”
“Um... none, now you mention it,” said Alice.
“Right,” said Ottokar. “Hy reckon hy need to go und look for Jägers.”
* * * * *
Every minority in London has always had at least one place where it can gather together, speak its own language where applicable, and generally let its collective hair down. The Jägers were a very tiny minority; the best estimate was that there were no more than two hundred and fifty of them in the whole city. Some of them worked on construction sites or as security guards, but most commonly they worked on the docks, where their extreme strength and hardiness made them perfect for loading and unloading cargo. They were paid better than their human colleagues, for two reasons: partly it was because they were able to work a great deal better, but mostly it was because even the toughest dockmaster found it difficult to argue with a pack of Jägers who felt they were being insufficiently rewarded for their efforts.
They too, like all the other minorities, had their own place. Naturally it was near the docks, but it was not just the dock workers who went to Drauka's Bug Bar. Every Jäger in the city went in at one point or another. Even Ottokar was a semi-regular there, despite being a vegetarian and therefore unable to appreciate Drauka's special tangy ant patties and other traditional dishes.
That had gone down rather badly at first. He had been laughed at by a tough group of dockers who had never heard of such a thing as a vegetarian Jäger before, and the inevitable brawl had ensued. Ottokar was no coward and enjoyed a good fight as much as any other of his kind, but nonetheless it had been four against one, and the result had appeared a foregone conclusion until two unexpected things happened. The first was that Drauka herself came and weighed in on his side; it turned out that she had taken quite a shine to him and his “yentlemanly” manners. And the second was that one of the older Jägers, who had been sitting at the bar regarding him silently and thoughtfully, cleared her throat and pointed out to anyone who might care to listen that he was wearing the trilobite of the House of Heterodyne on his shako.
That, of course, had meant that Ottokar was now surrounded by people who wanted to ask him a lot of questions rather than punch his lights out. Sometimes, people who wanted to punch your lights out were easier, especially when you couldn't really answer the questions they were asking. He actually had no idea why he had been sent the trilobite shako plate, and he could hardly tell them that it had arrived via Mr Wooster. All he could tell them was that it had been given to him through an intermediary.
This was not the most satisfactory answer he could have given, but when everyone finally accepted that it was the only one he was able to give, it gained him at least a certain standing in the group. He had already heard vague rumours of a Heterodyne heiress, and they were amply confirmed here. He learned that her name was Agatha, and that Baron Wulfenbach's son and heir Gilgamesh was said to be deeply in love with her. Whether or not she reciprocated was a point of lively and sometimes raucous debate. Drauka's clientele decided that Ottokar must have the special favour of “the Mistress”, for some reason none of them could fathom, and so, vegetarian or no, even those who were not inclined to be friendly treated him with cautious respect.
Ottokar had no idea why “the Mistress” might favour him. As far as he was aware, he had never even met her. Daggy, who was the best informed of the crowd, was able to give him a basic description of Lady Heterodyne; it appeared that she had a friend called Maxim who was actually travelling with her, or at least had travelled with her at some point. Ottokar was aware that some parts of the description might have become garbled in the retelling, but nonetheless he was fairly clear that he had never met a young woman with a mass of golden hair that always stuck up at the back, no matter what she did with it.
And then, a week after the trilobite incident, something else had happened which had raised his status still further, to something approaching Resident God. The chef and the bottle-washer had got into a fight. This, apparently, happened all the time and was normally nothing to worry about, except that on this occasion the bottle-washer had struck a freak blow and knocked the chef out cold. Drauka had been so angry that she had done the same to the bottle-washer, and then, of course, immediately regretted it. There were plenty of volunteers to stand in for the bottle-washer, but nobody, it turned out, felt at all confident to cook all evening for a crowd of Jägers... except, of course, for Ottokar, who had been an Army cook and was therefore well used to it.
Drauka had demurred at first. A vegetarian chef in a Jäger bug bar? But Ottokar had convinced her that, although he never ate meat himself, he was both willing and able to cook it. Bugs, admittedly, were new to his repertoire, but he had never been shy of a challenge. And since there was really no other alternative, Drauka had let him into the kitchen, and the results had been such a success that she would have sacked her original chef on the spot if Ottokar had shown the slightest sign that he might be tempted into the job.
So Drauka now owed him a favour, and on this bright sunny August morning he arrived at the bar to claim it.
The bar was not open yet, but when Drauka saw who it was, she did not feel inclined to stand on ceremony. “Schveethot!” she exclaimed. “Goot to see hyu. Ve missed hyu last night.”
“Ach,” said Ottokar. “It vos too hot to go out.”
“Vell, ja,” Drauka admitted. “It did get preddy varm in here. Dere vos a goot fight.”
“Ho vell. Anodder time. Hy might also not be in tonight. Probably got to vork late.”
“But hyu here now.”
“Hy vork some schtrange hours,” replied Ottokar, quite truthfully. “But, hyu know, Drauka, hy been hearing some veird schtuff. Is it true dere's some Jägers vot have come into some big money yust lately?”
“Ja,” she said, slowly. “Funny hyu should say dat. Dey vere schplashing it about big time in here last night.”
“Who?”
“Vould hyu believe Bavo und Juri und Helmut?” said Drauka. “Hy mean. Dose tree. Dey got vun brain cell among dem und dey don't alvays remember whose turn it is to have it.”
Ottokar shook his head. “Vow. Some pipple have all der luck. Maybe hyu best not tell dem hy vos asking. Dey not exactly my best friends.”
“No vorries. Hy von't say a ting. Dey also not my best friends, but hy don't tell dem dat, because dey buy lots of beer und schnacks. Especially last night.”
“Hy vos kind of vondering vot dey might be doing to make so much money,” said Ottokar innocently. “Hy mean, if dey can do it, maybe so can hy.”
“Don't hyu even tink about dat,” replied Drauka severely. “Hyu tink hyu de only vun to vonder dat? Everyvun vas asking dem, but dey vouldn't tell, not even ven dey got drunk. All dey said vos dey had a goot boss und dere vere no more vacancies. Hyu vant to know vot hy tink, hy tink dey schtole it.”
“Ve find out soon enough if dey did,” said Ottokar. “Like hyu said hyuself, dey got no brains. Pipple who schteal tings need brains or dey get caught.”
“Vell,” said Drauka, “is up to dem vot dey do, but dey better not get caught schtealing in here. Hy don't vant de place getting a bad name.” She paused. “Und hy don't vant Jägers getting vun. Ve all know dere's goot Jägers und bad Jägers, same as dere is vit any sort of pipple, but ven de bad vuns get caught, dere's alvays humans vot trow up deir hands und go 've knew it'.”
“Ja!” said Ottokar. “Dat's vy hy tink dere should be Jägers in der police. If de goot Jägers catch de bad Jägers, de humans can't say ve all bad.”
Drauka smiled. “Dat's not a bad idea. Vy don't hyu go und yoin? Hy tink hyu'd look qvite someting in der uniform. Ho ja.”
Green people cannot blush, but Ottokar's complexion did darken a little. “Vell, er... hy tink about it,” he managed. Then he recovered himself somewhat, and dutifully added, “Hy bet hyu say dat to all de yentlemen.”
Ottokar was not good at handling flirting. Unfortunately, there is a certain type of person to whom that adds an extra level of attraction, and Drauka was firmly in that category. She simpered at him, which is quite an achievement when you have fangs. “Only hyu,” she purred. “Hyu so schveet!”
“Is very kind of hyu, but hy got to go,” said Ottokar hurriedly.
“Vot, und leave hyu liddle Drauka?”
Ottokar diplomatically refrained from pointing out that Drauka was taller than he was and probably a good stone heavier. Sometimes, he reflected, size was in the mind. “Hy come in next time hy can,” he promised.
“Hokay. But hyu such a tease!” She batted him playfully, almost knocking him over.
Ottokar made as graceful an exit as he could in the circumstances, and hurried to the nearest airbus stop. As the lift rattled upwards, he found himself wishing he had bumped into Daggy instead, and felt rather bad about it. He was friends with both ladies, and more so with Drauka than with Daggy, who could be inexplicably moody at times; but Daggy never flirted, and so she was a great deal easier to deal with. Not that there was any real chance of bumping into Daggy at this time of day. Right now, she would be carrying girders about on the construction site where she was working at the moment.
The airship was not crowded. He rode as far as King's Cross, where he changed to another one that took him straight to the building where they had been training the previous day. Soon, he was in Mr Wooster's office. There was no sign of Alice.
“Ah, good morning again, Ottokar,” said Mr Wooster. “Any success?”
“Ja. Hy got tree names. Bavo, Juri und Helmut vere apparently schplashing der cash around at Drauka's last night.”
“Do you know them?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Sure hy know dem. Not many Jägers in dis city. Ve all know one anodder, even if only a liddle. Dese tree, dey preddy schtupid, so dey don't often get vork. Und now dey telling everyvun dey got really goot vork, but dey don't say vot it is.”
“H'mm. Anything else about them?”
“Ja. Drauka knows dem better dan hy do. She tinks dey probably schtole der money. Hy not so sure about dat. Hy don't tink dey bright enough to schteal.”
Mr Wooster nodded. “They sound like a productive line of enquiry. How do you get on with them yourself?”
“Not dat vell. Dey von't touch me because of de trilobite, but hy don't get de feeling dey like me.” He paused. “Ja. De trilobite. Hy keep meaning to ask hyu about dat, but tings keep happening. Hyu sent me dis.”
“Well, yes. I did,” said Mr Wooster, not sure what Ottokar was driving at. “But can we...?”
Ottokar held up a hand. “In a minute. Hy yust vant dis cleared up first. Vy did hyu send me dis ting? Hy mean, is goot. Hy really prout of it. But vy have hy got it?”
Mr Wooster took a deep breath. “All right. I'll tell you quickly, as long as we go back to talking about your lead immediately afterwards, because that is actually more important at this moment. We are allied with Lady Heterodyne. I have met her personally several times. The last time I saw her, I happened to mention that a Jäger had been very helpful to two of our agents. She wanted to know more about you, and when I told her the story, she gave me that to send to you.”
“Dat vos very goot of her, und hy very honoured,” said Ottokar. “But vy? She does not know Charles und Hilde, or dey vould have talked about her.”
“I don't know the answer to that myself,” Mr Wooster admitted. “But I can make a shrewd guess. Lady Heterodyne knows that there are Jägers in this country, but she knows little about them. The Jägers she does know are loyal to her...”
“Is vun of dem called Maxim?” Ottokar interrupted.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Hy made friends vit vun of his friends. Yust vanted to check it vos true.”
“It's true, all right. The other two regulars, if you like to put it that way, are called Dimo and Oggie. Interesting gentlemen. Anyway, if you want to know, I think she sent you that symbol for two reasons. The more important of the two was that she knew you would appreciate it; she's generous, and she was well disposed towards you, partly for my sake and partly because of Dimo, Maxim and Oggie. But she is also shrewd. I think there was also some political motivation there. She knew you'd wear it on your hat, and she would be very interested to know how that went down with the other local Jägers.”
Ottokar nodded approvingly. “She clever. Mind you, she a Heterodyne. She got to be. Hy hope hyu been telling her dey all respect it?”
Mr Wooster smiled. “Naturally.”
“Und before ve get back to de odder ting,” said Ottokar, “is it true dat she got hair dat schticks up at de back und a lot of... of... er... frontage?”
“Quite correct about the hair, but the frontage may have been exaggerated in the telling,” replied Mr Wooster, deadpan. “She has an hourglass figure, but not disproportionately so.”
“Goot. Because de vay some people have tokked about her, hyu vould tink she vould fall on her face.”
“If there were any danger of that, she would certainly invent some device to keep her upright,” Mr Wooster assured him. “Now, your line of enquiry. You say you don't get on well with them. Do you think it would be a waste of time to try to get in with them, then?”
“Ho ja.”
“I thought so, but I had to check. Very well, then. Would you be able to tail them, or at least one of them if they split up?”
“Ja. Could do dat easy.”
“Then that's what you do tonight. Tell me what you do if they see you.”
“If hy so close dey know hy got to have seen dem, hy vave or say hallo und den valk off like hy vos alvays going somevhere else. If not, hy yust valk avay.”
“Yes, and you do that,” said Mr Wooster, with a touch of severity. “There are three of them, and if they do turn on you, it won't be a good-time Jäger bar brawl where the main casualties are the furniture. It's always better to lose your quarry than to get yourself hurt.”
“Vot made hyu tink hy vouldn't?” asked Ottokar.
“Your tone of voice. Oh, Miss Davenport! Please come in.”
Alice entered, looking tired. “Got something,” she announced. “Mind if I sit down? I must have been over half of London.”
“Please do,” said Mr Wooster. “And now we're all here again, I suggest we go and have lunch in a few minutes. You look as though your tissues could do with some restoration.”
“In full measure,” said Alice. “But first of all, I do believe I've found our airship.”
“Very well done!” exclaimed Mr Wooster. “That one was really puzzling me. As you know, I followed up on all the ones that were reported stolen last night, but they all led to dead ends for different reasons.”
Alice grinned triumphantly. “This one was also stolen. It just wasn't reported.”
“Why not?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Because,” said Alice, who was enjoying herself despite her weariness, “it was replaced tidily after use. The only thing the thieves forgot to do was top up the firebox, or it might never have been noticed at all.” She paused. “It was one of the air buses. I thought it had to be, or someone would have noticed it; but the buses are ubiquitous, and they go slightly off their route all the time. And they run all night, just not very many of them. So I thought maybe someone had, shall we say, possibly decided to borrow one.”
“A good thought,” said Mr Wooster. “How did you verify it?”
“By going round all the main airbus stations and indulging in frivolous gossip,” replied Alice, with a wicked grin. “Nothing doing until I got to Euston, by which time I was very well practised in bringing out my line about whether the pilots weren't tempted to go for joy rides sometimes. And, bingo, I shot straight in the gold. The pilot I was talking to was already furious because she'd had her first flight delayed due to having to fill the firebox; usually someone tops it up as soon as the ship comes in for the night. And then she'd found some peculiar scratches on the steering wheel, which she took extremely personally. The pilots obviously don't own the ships, and because of the shift pattern there's more than one pilot to a ship, but when any pilot is on duty, he or she normally has the same ship. So they get to know all their little quirks, and they get very fond of them, as you'd expect.”
“Scratches,” repeated Mr Wooster. “Like claw marks, perhaps?”
“She didn't say, but she did say they were quite bad scratches,” replied Alice. “She said the whole wheel would have to be sanded down and re-polished to get them out.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar. “Hy vos almost certain, und now hy totally certain. Ve dealing vit Jägers.” He paused. “But not clever Jägers. Is vun ting catching dem... but it might not be so easy to catch de person vot's paying dem.”
* * * * *
After lunch, the three of them returned to Euston, along with one Sergeant Haywood of the Metropolitan Police who had been detailed to meet them there as a result of a message sent by Mr Wooster via a passing constable. It was easy enough to find the bay where the ship had been tethered overnight; it stood high above the adjacent railway station alongside a row of others, and the whole row was accessed by a lift at one end. The lift had an external door that could be locked for security, and it took the sergeant very little time to confirm that it had been recently picked.
“But not by a Jäger, sir,” he assured Mr Wooster. “There are no claw marks round the lock, just these tiny key scratches. Whoever did that was human.”
Mr Wooster nodded. “I'm not entirely surprised. I had already concluded that they had at least one human with them, for a number of reasons. We'd better go up and wait for the ship.”
The airship was called the Plotinus, and it had been summoned back to its bay, ostensibly for some light maintenance, but in reality so that the four of them could investigate it. They reached the long platform that ran alongside the bays, and Alice looked over the safety wall, gazing down at the sunlit city. “Quite a view from here,” she observed.
Ottokar joined her. “Ja. Und a lot of airships. Vhich is ours?”
“No way of telling from here,” replied Mr Wooster. “It should be dropping off its passengers at the public station about now. It'll be here in a few minutes.”
It was. The pilot expertly guided it into the bay, then stepped out onto the platform. She was, of course, the same pilot to whom Alice had been speaking earlier, and she introduced herself as Mrs Ubuobisa. Alice introduced her three companions, and Mrs Ubuobisa nodded, evidently pleased that something was going to be done.
“Vandals,” she complained. “We get them up here occasionally, but this is the first time they've made off with a ship. At least they did bring it back. You want to come and see what they did to the wheel?”
“We should be very interested to see that, madam,” replied Mr Wooster.
Mrs Ubuobisa ushered them on board and showed them up to the cabin. Her co-pilot, a bearded young man who somehow managed to suggest the entire Aesthetic Movement although he was dressed in uniform and thus lacked any of the usual sartorial indicators, stood up politely but languidly to greet them. “Mr Coates,” said the pilot. “Mr Wooster, Miss Davenport, Herr von Luftschiff and Sergeant Haywood.”
“Pleased to meet you,” drawled Coates. “I say, are you all police?”
“Government,” replied Mr Wooster briskly. “Tampering with one of Her Majesty's airships is a serious public safety issue, and we have to investigate it thoroughly.”
“Glad to hear it, sir,” said Coates.
Alice and Ottokar were already inspecting the scratched steering wheel. “Well?” said Alice. “Were we right?”
“Hy should say so,” replied Ottokar thoughtfully. “Jäger claws vould definitely do dat. But is veird. Hy never had to fly an airship, but if hy had, hy preddy sure hy vouldn't schcratch de vheel up like dat.”
“Are there any particular manoeuvres that might cause an inexperienced pilot to grip the wheel especially hard?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Not in the normal course of events,” replied Mrs Ubuobisa.
Alice tried another tack. “Was there anything you had to do when you were learning to fly that you found rather scary?”
“Yes,” said Mrs Ubuobisa at once. “Bringing her into dock. That's probably why I do it so well now. I knew I'd never be a good pilot if I couldn't do that, so I concentrated extra hard on it.”
“And why was that scary?” asked Alice.
Mrs Ubuobisa grinned. “You've never flown, have you? If you get something wrong in the air, you've nearly always got enough room to put it right. But if you dock badly, you're in danger of hitting the platform. You'd have to be going pretty fast to do the ship any serious damage, but you can certainly damage yourself, to say nothing of any passengers. Also, depending on the exact speed and angle of impact, you can bounce off the platform and lose control. Everyone's nervous about it at first, and if they're not, they probably shouldn't be flying.”
“I see,” said Mr Wooster. “Thank you, Mrs Ubuobisa. That was a very helpful explanation.”
They examined the cabin carefully, but found nothing else unusual. “By the way,” said Alice, “who has a key to the lift? Just the pilots and co-pilots, or anyone else?”
“But...” began the sergeant. Alice raised a hand to shush him.
“Most of the staff here,” replied Mrs Ubuobisa. “Pilots, co-pilots, maintenance staff, and I think the senior administrators. And the station manager, but that goes without saying.”
“Thank you,” said Alice.
Once they were all back on the ground, Sergeant Haywood looked oddly at Alice. “Why did you ask about the keys?” he said. “You knew the lock had been picked. It doesn't matter who's got a key.”
“It does, because anyone who had a key wouldn't need to pick the lock,” replied Alice. “That question has just cleared most of the staff at Euston. If you're a criminal wanting to steal an airship, even temporarily, you go for the most convenient one, and if you just so happen to work at an airship station, you've got some very convenient ones right there.”
“You should think about joining the Force, young lady,” said the sergeant, somewhat taken aback.
“She's doing extremely well where she is, Sergeant,” replied Mr Wooster with a smile. “Please report back that we're looking for at least one Jäger, possibly up to three, and at least one human who can fly an airship and teach a Jäger at least enough for them to be able to hold the ship steady close to a building for maybe ten minutes. We don't have any further descriptions yet, but that should at least narrow things down.”
“Und dey may be able to fly an airship, but dey don't vork at Euston,” added Ottokar. “In fact, dey probably don't vork for London Air Transport at all. If dey did, dey could have borrowed anodder ship vitout having to break into a lift.”
Haywood nodded. “Very good, sir. Oh, and the papers have been asked to keep quiet about Mr Holmes, sir.”
“Indeed,” said Mr Wooster. “We can't have a panic. Has anyone asked for a ransom for him yet?”
“Oh! Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Should have mentioned that earlier. The note was actually delivered to the Palace this morning, but it was brought straight to us, of course. The kidnappers seem to think Her Majesty involves herself in such matters as ransom payments.”
Mr Wooster visibly relaxed. “Oh, good. I'm delighted to hear that, regardless of the kidnappers' woeful ignorance of royal protocol. If they want a ransom for him, it means he's alive. I thought they probably would, because he's well known to be a national asset, but there was always that doubt.”
“You don't suppose they kidnapped Mrs Buckingham in order to get him involved, and he was their real target?” asked Alice. “Only this is all rather starting to remind me of the Chatterjee business.”
“It's possible,” said Mr Wooster, “but I'm inclined to doubt it. I understand that Mr Buckingham would never have got Mr Holmes involved in the case if he had been left to himself. It was Mrs Buckingham's sister, Miss Temple, who insisted on calling him in at her own expense.”
“Und ve need to go und call at dat house, anyvay,” Ottokar reminded them. “Ve need to tok to de maid. Ve may as vell tok to der whole lot of dem.”
“But not all of us,” said Mr Wooster. “Sergeant Haywood, have you been there yourself?”
“To the Buckinghams' house? Not me, sir.”
“Good. Then if you should happen to ask a few questions that have already been asked, nobody will think it odd. Your line is that your department has some more questions it needs to ask. Do you think you could introduce Miss Davenport as a plain clothes officer and give her free rein to do whatever talking she feels necessary?”
“Yes, sir. I could do that.”
“Good man. Then please go and do it. Miss Davenport, when you've finished over there, come back to my office. If I'm not there, just wait. Feel free to knock on Mr Tufnell's door; he'll make you a cup of tea if you need one.” He turned to Ottokar, who was opening his mouth to protest. “Yes, I know, but I'm sure you can trust Miss Davenport to ask the right questions on your behalf.”
“You can,” said Alice. “I will make very sure I talk to the maid for you.”
“You and I,” continued Mr Wooster, “have a pilot to catch. Let's go and get a cup of coffee. We need to do some thinking.”
Ottokar grinned. “Hyu sound like Charles.”
“Well, it doesn't cause me to invent things, but I do find I think better when I'm not thirsty,” replied Mr Wooster, returning the smile. “And it is still hot out here. With a bit of luck, it will be cooler indoors.”
They went into one of the larger coffee houses, where it certainly was a lot cooler, and Mr Wooster ordered a pot of coffee between them. “Now,” he said, as they sat down. “There's absolutely no point in running all over London looking for a pilot. We have to use logic here, and you've already done the first step. They don't work for London Air Transport.”
“Vhich is goot, but probably schtill leaves a lot of pipple,” said Ottokar.
“Right. We've got one of two possible scenarios to think about. Either whoever is doing the piloting is also in charge of the whole operation, or they're two separate people. But either way, someone found and paid at least one of the Jägers. So how would that work, do you think? You know the Jägerkin. If a human wanted to recruit some for illegal purposes, how would they best go about it?”
Ottokar considered. “Anyvun who knew anyting vould go down to de docks,” he said. “Is vhere most of us vork.”
“Would they go in Drauka's?”
“Not if dey vanted to come out again,” replied Ottokar. “Is not a place for humans. Dere is fights.” He paused. “Hy mean, ve don't even bring our human friends in. Hy couldn't bring hyu. Und Drauka likes me.” He coughed, embarrassed. “A liddle too much, in fact. Anyvay, point is, no human could yust valk in. Und by der vay, how hyu know a human is involved?”
“Because if the kidnappers had all been Jägers, the chances are that there would have been scratches in the window frame, and Mr Holmes would have noticed,” replied Mr Wooster. “Whoever actually got into the room and did the kidnapping was human.”
“Hokay. Vell, so far ve got a human hanging round de docks looking to employ some Jägers. Ve don't know who dey are or vot dey look like. All ve know is dey can fly an airship, or dey can pay somevun who can.”
“Yes. But the docks are a large area. Where do you think they would go, specifically? If I wanted someone to do some honest work for me, I would go to the labour exchange, but I doubt this person would want to risk that.”
“Now hyu've got me,” Ottokar admitted. “Hy don't know de docks dat well. Except for Drauka's, of course.”
“Well, do you know where your three suspects go when they're not at Drauka's? After all, it looks as though they were the ones who happened to be hired, and our human suspect must have picked them up somewhere.”
“Drauka might know,” said Ottokar doubtfully. “But she not exactly fond of dem.”
Mr Wooster sighed. “Oh, well. Perhaps you'll get a better clue when you track them tonight. I was really hoping we might be able to get a lead from the other end, though.”
“Can't be helped,” replied Ottokar philosophically. “Is vun of dose tings. Big problem is, dey not really got friends except vun anodder. Dat means nobody ve can ask.”
“Of course,” said Mr Wooster, “they do have money to drink at Drauka's regularly. But they don't get a lot of work.”
“Ja, vell, dat's not de kind of ting anyvun asks qvestions about,” replied Ottokar. “Hy mean, if dey up to no goot, is not like anyvun vants to encourage dem, but on de odder hand is also not like anyvun can schtop dem. Is best to give dem de benefit of de doubt until de police show up.”
“Well, quite so. But what I'm saying is, whoever employed them for this job may have done so before. It may not have been a question of someone randomly wandering around the docks looking for Jägers.”
“Hyu talking about gangs? Organised crime?”
“It's a definite possibility. Whoever we're dealing with has money, resources and ambition.”
The coffee arrived, and Mr Wooster thanked the waiter. When he was out of earshot again, Mr Wooster said, “I'm afraid this is probably the point where we have to admit we're going round in circles. I was hoping we might get some ideas by talking it through, but I think it's not going to happen. I shall just have to go the long way round. I'll have Mr Tufnell draw up a list of everyone in London who is a registered airship pilot, and then eliminate all those who are currently working for London Air Transport. I'm afraid it will be a tedious job, and he won't love me for it, but he may appreciate the fact that at least we did try to save him from it.”
Ottokar raised a bushy eyebrow. “Are ve sure our airship pilot is registered?”
Mr Wooster sighed. “No, we're not, but whoever they are, they are skilful enough to be able to train an apparently somewhat intellectually challenged Jäger to perform a difficult manoeuvre in mid-air. So the likelihood is that they will be. Of course, that is still going to leave a longer list than we'd like, but that's how it goes.”
“So vot hyu really saying,” said Ottokar, “is dat in order to find out who kidnapped Mrs Buckingham und Mr Sherlock Holmes, ve really need to be Mr Sherlock Holmes?”
“That,” said Mr Wooster heavily, “is unfortunately about the size of it.”
* * * * *
They went down to the docks and took a walk round in search of possible locations that might give them a hint, and Ottokar showed Mr Wooster the outside of Drauka's Bug Bar for possible future reference. Whether Mr Wooster was already familiar with the more esoteric aspects of traditional Jäger cuisine or he was just being very polite, he asked no questions regarding the bugs, for which Ottokar was grateful. It was bad enough explaining not eating bugs to other Jägers, without also having to explain Jägers eating bugs to a human.
By the time they returned to Mr Wooster's office, they found waiting for them not only Alice, but Dr John Watson. “Oh, Mr Wooster,” he said, at once. “I'm glad you're back. I have some news for you. Holmes was seen this morning, riding in a hansom cab near Shoreditch with three... er...” He glanced at Ottokar. “Very probably with three Jägers, I'm afraid, sir.”
“Hyu don't have to apologise, Doctor Vatson. Ve already knew dere vere some Jägers involved,” said Ottokar.
“Who saw him, and at what time?” asked Mr Wooster.
“One of what we call the Baker Street Irregulars,” said Watson. “Holmes employs a motley crew of children to gather information and news for him. After I saw you this morning, it occurred to me that it might well be sensible to find one of them and ask them to look out for him; after all, they know him, nobody really notices them, and they've proved on a number of occasions that they are to be trusted. The little girl can't tell the time, but she said it was some time between the clocks striking eight and nine.”
“Oh,” said Mr Wooster. “If she can't tell the time, I can hardly hope that she can read. Therefore, I suppose, we don't have the cab's number.”
“She can't read, but she can draw,” replied Watson with a smile, taking out a slip of paper. “She's quite a natural artist. She can copy anything she sees. She knows where the number is on a cab, even if she doesn't know how to read it. So she copied it.”
“One hundred and thirty-six!” exclaimed Mr Wooster. “Doctor, this is better than I had dared to hope. Ottokar and I have been breaking our brains all afternoon trying to find a possible lead, and here you are with a solid gold one. What is the name of this artistic child?”
“I believe it's Maisie,” replied Watson. “But I can't say I'm certain. It's Holmes who usually deals with them.”
“But you'd know her if you saw her again?”
Watson nodded. “I have a good memory for faces.”
“Then if we find Holmes, bring her to me. I'll ensure that she gets a proper education.”
“I shall.” Watson paused. “Oh... the news blackout on Holmes' disappearance?”
“What about it?”
“Is it supposed to include Mrs Buckingham's family? You see, after surgery, on the way here, I dropped in on Mrs Hudson to see if I could get some idea of where Holmes was originally heading. I didn't find anything, but I did find Arthur Buckingham, who was waiting to see Holmes. Mrs Hudson, not realising he was connected with Miss Temple, had told him Holmes was out on a case, and after that I didn't really like to undeceive him.”
“That's a very good question, but at least you have, between you, left us the option to decide on an answer,” said Mr Wooster.
“So that's where he was!” exclaimed Alice. “I can certainly tell you he went without Miss Temple's knowledge. She didn't know why he hadn't come home, and was starting to worry about him. Was he still there when you left?”
“No, he left when I did,” replied Watson. “He seems quite concerned about his sister-in-law; one would almost say protective, although I rather fancy that protection is the last thing she needs. Although it was her idea to involve Holmes, rather than his, he seems to have acquiesced quite readily. I can easily imagine that he might slip out to see if he could get a report on the case without troubling his sister-in-law.”
“Seems odd that he shouldn't tell her, though,” said Alice. “Especially since you'd think he would have known he wouldn't arrive home at the usual time. Still, he may have underestimated the time it took to get to Baker Street. It doesn't sound as though he goes into the City more than he can avoid.”
“Did hyu find out anyting interesting up at de house?” asked Ottokar.
Alice grinned. “Well, Sergeant Haywood found the ladder, or he thinks he did. It doesn't really matter one way or the other, but for what it's worth I think he's probably right. It fits the impressions properly when you lean it up against the wall. It's only ten feet long. It's the one the gardener uses for pruning the apple trees. He checked it for fingerprints and scratches, but couldn't find either. Still, it's rough old wood, so fingerprints would be fairly unlikely.”
“So that's our red herring,” said Mr Wooster. “Probably put there by a human. A Jäger would be more likely to have rammed it down into the ground, though of course we can't be certain.”
“Und de maid?” asked Ottokar.
“I was waiting for you to ask that,” said Alice, with a smile. She reached into her reticule. “She won't be having any weird dreams tonight, or, if she does, it will only be because she ate too much cheese in the evening. I asked her if her mistress had ever given her any piece of jewellery or similar small item that she had had about her when she heard the voices. Lo and behold.” She triumphantly held up a milky white opalescent pendant on a silver chain; it looked like a piece of chalcedony cut in cabochon, except that the play of light in its depths did not seem to be quite accountable to the ordinary laws of physics.
“How on earth did you persuade her to part with it?” asked Watson. “I recognise that pendant. She was wearing it when we spoke to her.”
“I asked her to lend it to me because I thought it would help us to find her mistress,” replied Alice. “She naturally knows her mistress is a spark. She's aware that it may not be all it seems.”
“Now dis,” said Ottokar, “is vhere ve could do vit Charles und Hilde.”
“It may well come to that,” said Mr Wooster. “I may well end up having to hire a cab and go and see them, though I would prefer not to involve them if we don't have to. They are already busy.”
“Here's where it gets interesting,” said Alice. “I showed Miss Temple the pendant, and asked if her sister had anything like it. Not only like it, it seems, but identical; Miss Temple was quite startled when she first saw it, because she thought it was her sister's. It was only when I turned it over and showed her Katya's name engraved on the back that she realised she was mistaken.”
“A thoughtful mistress,” said Watson. “If you are going to give your maid a pendant identical to your own, it is a very wise thing to have her name engraved on the back, so that she can't be accused of stealing yours.”
“Or to tell your husband or your sister,” suggested Alice. “Neither of them took a great deal of notice of Katya, since she wasn't their maid, but if they had happened to see that she was wearing the pendant, it would surely have been easier for Mrs Buckingham to have simply mentioned the gift. As it was, Miss Temple wasn't aware of it, and I assume that the same must have applied to Mr Buckingham.”
“Now that,” said Mr Wooster, “is interesting.”
“Could yust be der whole class ting,” said Ottokar. “Is probably an expensive ting. Maybe she didn't vant dem to know she vos giving a ting like dat to her maid, because dey vould have made a fuss und said it vosn't proper or dat sort of schtuff.”
“Oh, now that does make some sense,” said Alice. “I do get the impression from some of the things Miss Temple says that Mr Buckingham is rather a snob. He makes a little as an architect, but mostly he lives on the money from his wife's invention. He doesn't like to talk too much about that, though. He's got some titled ancestors and he tends to bang on about them. There's a framed coat of arms in the hall.”
“Heh,” said Ottokar. “Hy suppose he not descended from der duke vot lost his head in Salisbury?”
Alice shook her head. “No, that was the Duke of Buckingham, and his surname was Stafford. Anyway, Mr Buckingham is descended from the aristocracy on his mother's side, although again he tends to keep that rather quiet. Miss Temple doesn't mind talking about it, though. I don't think she likes her brother-in-law anywhere near so much as he likes her.”
“Any reason?” asked Mr Wooster.
Alice shrugged. “Goodness knows. I didn't try to pry too deeply. Miss Temple is obviously very upset about what has happened to her sister, and she's scared, too, which is only to be expected. She's afraid for her sister, and also, I think, a little for herself.”
“Does she think Buckingham will throw her out, then?” asked Mr Wooster.
“I'm not sure. If she does, I would be surprised if she has anything to worry about. But she may feel that without her sister, it wouldn't be proper for her to share a house with him, even if he is her brother-in-law, so she would have to go elsewhere. Even though she can certainly afford to go and live somewhere else, that sort of thing can be quite daunting.”
“Well,” said Mr Wooster, “I am rather hoping that we now have enough information to restore her sister to her so that she won't have that problem. I am now going to find and talk to the cab driver.”
“Would you mind if I came with you?” asked Watson. “Obviously I'm very keen to help find Holmes, and I've... got some experience of assisting with this kind of thing.”
“Certainly,” said Mr Wooster promptly. “That would be helpful. You two, I suggest that for the moment you go home and get something to eat. Ottokar, you know what you're going to be doing after that. Miss Davenport, here is some money. As soon as you're ready, hire yourself a cab and get yourself down to Lewes. I want to know what that pendant is. Do try to make sure they put it back together again if they have to take it apart to find out. You've got enough there to stay the night, and I suggest you do, or you won't be back till the small hours.”
“Right you are,” said Alice briskly. “Will do.”
“All right, Doctor,” said Mr Wooster. “Come on!”
It was easy enough to trace the cab driver, and she had not forgotten the three Jägers. She was talkative, and Mr Wooster gathered that they had not seemed too clear about where they were going and had had to argue about it, but in the end one of them had said “near Drauka's”, and then they had agreed to have her drive to Drauka's and then stop a little way further along the river.
“The docks again,” muttered Mr Wooster, as they left. “Always the docks. The perfect place to hide someone. The place is riddled with under-used warehouses, shady pubs, run-down lodging houses, brothels and opium dens, and there are so many people coming and going all the time that even three Jägers with a captive are unlikely to draw attention. Ah well. So we go to the docks.”
Watson was frowning. “Mr Wooster,” he said, “why didn't you find out exactly where the cab stopped? Holmes would have pinned it down almost to the inch.”
Mr Wooster turned to face him. “Dr Watson,” he replied, “I greatly appreciate your help, but if you wouldn't mind, please do me the favour of relegating the phrase 'Holmes would have...' to your mental archive while we're investigating this.”
“I'm sorry. But why...?”
“Because I am not Holmes. Oh, don't mistake me. I do appreciate and admire his methods. He is a truly great detective. Nonetheless, he is, if you like, a highly talented soloist, supported by a small orchestra but accustomed to taking all the plaudits himself. I, if you will permit me to extend the metaphor, direct a chamber ensemble while at the same time being one of the players. We all bow for the applause together. It's inevitable that we work in slightly different ways.”
Watson nodded, understanding. “Ah. Yes, I see. Your clarinettist and bassoonist are both quite exceptional, from what I've seen of them.”
Mr Wooster chuckled. “Oh, they are. I'm very lucky to have them. Later tonight, all being well, we should have an interesting brass interlude. With additional gears.”
“And what do I play, do you suppose?” asked Watson.
“Well, this time it's certainly not going to be Boswell,” replied Mr Wooster. “But, returning to your question about the cab, I think it doesn't matter exactly where it stopped. I am fairly sure whoever gave the Jägers their instructions had the sense to tell them not to pull up directly outside the building. They also didn't want to stop outside Drauka's, because they would risk being recognised there.”
“Is that a Jäger pub?” asked Watson.
“The only one in London, I'm reliably informed. The Jägerkin are a very small community here. They didn't want to be seen by their own kind. They knew they needed to be near Drauka's, but they couldn't stop outside there, so they went as far as Drauka's and then went on a little way more or less at random.”
“H'mm,” said Watson. “I suppose Holmes couldn't be at Drauka's?”
“That's the one place we can eliminate from the start,” replied Mr Wooster. “The usual rule is Jägers only, and even if there were to be some very good reason for that rule to be breached – for instance, I'm sure if Ottokar found a human outside who was hurt, they'd let him bring them in until a doctor could be called – it would be so unusual that it would get round the whole community.”
“So what do we do now?” asked Watson.
“I suggest we go down to the docks and sit in a moderately seedy pub. Do any of your Baker Street Irregulars frequent the docks, or could they possibly be induced to do so?”
Watson shrugged. “When Holmes pays them, they frequent anywhere he asks.”
“Good. Then we'll walk as far as Baker Street, have a word with the first Irregular we spot, and ask them to spread the glad tidings that there is good money in hanging around the docks this evening and keeping their eyes and ears open. I'm sure that should land us a fair few extra helpers. Once that's settled, we'll get something to eat and then take the airbus down to the docks. Ottokar is going to be tracking the Jägers, just in case they're doing any more work for their mysterious new boss this evening, so we needn't worry about them. Our job is going to involve eavesdropping on the humans.”
“H'mm,” said Watson. “I can't help thinking Ottokar has the easier job. From what you say, there are only three of them.”
Mr Wooster blinked. “You... really don't know Jägers very well, do you?”
* * * * *
Ottokar spent a convivial evening at Drauka's, mostly chatting to Daggy and a couple of her friends. Drauka, naturally, was delighted to see him, but fortunately she was too busy to do a great deal of flirting. Bavo, Juri and Helmut occupied their usual corner, and still seemed to be spending with more than accustomed freedom; they were ordering a steady stream of wheat beer and special fried locusts.
They left a little after ten, and Ottokar said goodnight to Daggy and her friends, dodged a kiss from Drauka, and discreetly followed. Bavo and his friends were clearly in high spirits, laughing and joking as they tramped along the water front. Now and again, they would burst into song.
“If dose lips could only schpeeeeeak,” warbled Juri. “If dose eyes could only zeeeeee...”
Bavo cuffed him. “Ach, schtop vit der zentimental music-hall schlush. Hyu vant to zing, giff us a proper drinkink song.”
“Ja, but ve not drinkink right now,” Juri objected. “Und hy like der zentimental music-hall schlush. It got goot tunes.”
“In der tvi-tvi-tvilight, out in der beautiful tvilight...” sang Helmut, and got a cuff from Bavo in his turn.
“Hyu vant to zing der music-hall schtuff, vy don't hyu put on gowns und be done vit it?” he demanded.
“Is not as easy as dat,” said Helmut. “Hyu obviously neffer tried to put on a gown.”
“Ja,” agreed Juri. “Hy dun know how de girls do it. Und de corsets are chust hell.”
“Dat vos ven ve vere trying to get vork at de variety show,” explained Helmut. “Hy tink ve vere chust too much variety for dem.”
“Und schtockings!” Juri lamented. “How hyu effer get dem on vitout tearing dem?”
“Girls are schmot,” said Helmut, nodding sagely. “Hy mean. Hyu look at Drauka.”
“Bet she dun vear schtockings,” said Bavo. “Bet she too schmot to do dat.”
“Vell, hy not goink to ask her,” said Juri. “She got a damn goot left hook.”
“Und she schveet on dat fancy guy vit der trilobite,” said Helmut bitterly.
“Ja, but is not like she goink to look tvice at hyu anyvay,” Bavo pointed out, undiplomatically. Helmut thumped him.
“Fat lot of goot hyu are, Bavo,” he said.
“Bavo got a point,” said Juri. “Hyu vant to impress de ladies, hyu need to get some class.”
“Oh? Hyu so schmot, hyu know how hyu get class now?” asked Helmut. “Ve got money. Hyu mean dat ain't class?”
“Ja, but right now ve schpending it all on beer und bugs,” said Juri, who seemed to be the most intelligent of the three. “Now hyu look at der fancy guy. He got nize clothes. Hyu need to get some of dose. And a goot hat. Hy know hyu von dat vun in a fight, but it look like hyu von der fight by hitting der odder guy on de head a lot vhile he vos vearing it.”
“Ho!” said Helmut. “Zo. Now hyu tink my hat not goot enough? Vell, dat's an easy ting to fix. Hy fight hyu for dat vun.”
“Hy got a better idea,” said Bavo. “Ve find zum odder guy vit a nize hat. Hyu fight him.”
“Hy dun mind a fight,” said Juri.
“But if hyu und Helmut fight, und he take hyu hat, den vot hyu goink to do for a hat? Hyu not goink to vant to vear Helmut's.”
“Goot point,” admitted Juri, eyeing the shameful headgear with disfavour.
“Vy hyu got it in for my hat?” demanded Helmut. “Hokay. Hy go und fight a zailor, maybe.”
“Ve not got it in for hyu hat,” said Bavo. “Is chust... not a goot hat. Hy vouldn't fight hyu for it.”
“Is a hat vit a prout history of battle,” said Helmut.
“Vos a hat,” countered Juri, remorselessly. “Vunce upon a time. Ven it vos young.”
“Hy fight hyu right now und den hyu can go und fight der zailor later,” said Helmut, and suited his actions to his words by springing at Juri. Ottokar, who had been following from a safe distance, melted into the shadows by the river to watch the proceedings. The scuffle turned out to be inconclusive, since, although Helmut was the larger and more powerful of the two, Juri had better reflexes and was quicker on his feet. After a few minutes, Bavo waded in and forced them apart.
“Hyu vastink time,” he admonished them.
“But ve vere haffink fun!” Juri complained.
“Ja,” agreed Helmut. “Vos a goot fight. Vell balanced.”
“Dat's vy ve goot friends,” added Juri.
Helmut cuffed him again. “Ho, schtop vit der zoppy tok.”
A light flashed across the water and was gone. “Hy said hyu vere vastink time,” Bavo scolded. “Vot if dat vos de Keptain lookink for us?”
“She vouldn't...” Helmut began. Juri stopped him.
“Is somevun over dere,” he hissed, in a low voice. “Hy saw dem in der light. Hy dun know who it is, but hy tink dey vatchink us.”
“Dat sounds fun,” said Helmut. “Dey got a hat?”
Ottokar had not been close enough to hear what Juri said, but Helmut was blissfully unaware of any need to keep his voice down, and therefore was perfectly audible from where Ottokar was standing. It hardly took a genius to realise they must be aware of him. Well, he was far enough away to pretend not to have seen them; he had been looking over the river at the moment the light flashed. All right. Do what Mr Wooster said. Wander off in the opposite direction. After all, he now had a solid piece of evidence to report back: there was a “Captain” in the equation, she was female, and she was somewhere out there on that stretch of dark water. Even if he could follow them no further, that was a good night's work.
Too late. There were footsteps quickening behind him. Now they were following him.
One at a time he could have managed, but he was not keen to take on all three of them at once. There was also the fact that they undoubtedly knew the docks far better than he did. He was going to have to out-think them. That, surely, ought to be possible.
He ducked down an alley. Now, where would they expect him to head? There was only one answer, and that was Drauka's. It was the only place in the area where safety was guaranteed. So if he made them think he was going that way, they would probably try to cut him off, and then he could double back somewhere out of sight and escape into the maze of streets and alleys behind the docks.
It almost worked. It would have worked, if he had not taken a wrong turning at the crucial moment and ended up back on the waterfront. Bavo, who was waiting by the railings, happened to glance over his shoulder at that moment and raised a shout. Juri charged out of nowhere, caught him up as he broke into a run, and brought him down with a flying tackle. Helmut came lumbering up behind.
“Is hyu!” exclaimed Juri happily. “Der fancy guy. Vell, dat solves Helmut's problem! Helmut, look vot ve got. Somevun hyu can fight for a nize new hat.”
“No vay,” said Ottokar, twisting to his feet. “Hyu don't get dis hat. Hy von it off a rogue schpark. Had to beat a clank de size of dat building to get it.”
“Den vy hyu got de trilobite?” demanded Juri, throwing a round-arm punch.
Ottokar ducked. “Dat came separate!” He swung out a leg, catching Juri off balance. By this time, Helmut had joined the fray.
“Ja,” said Helmut. “Dat's a goot hat. Hy vant it.”
“Hyu velcome to fight, but vun at a time,” said Ottokar. “Oddervise, is not a proper hat fight. Hyu know dat.”
“Ho? Is nobody around to zee,” said Juri, grinning as he righted himself.
Ottokar saw Helmut's punch coming and stepped aside just enough to dodge it, getting in a solid one of his own that connected with the other Jäger's ear and did nothing to improve the state of his existing hat. While he was doing this, Juri punched him in the stomach.
“Cheating schwine,” snarled Ottokar. “Is vun of der most fundamental Jäger rules. Two Jägers fight for a hat, is vun to vun.”
“Hoo, big vords,” jeered Juri. Ottokar kicked him very hard in the shins.
Bavo came barrelling up. “Hyu two need any help? Ho! Is hyu!” He grinned evilly. Then a thought struck him. “Hey,” he said. “Ve take der hat. But ve dun take de trilobite. De Mistress gave him dat.”
“Ja. Ve can't disrespect de Mistress,” Juri admitted.
“Ja,” said Helmut. “Hyu so goot at fighting schparks vit big clanks, hyu can alvays go und fight anodder vun und get a new hat. But hyu can't chust go und get hyuself a new trilobite veneffer hyu vant.”
“Hy sure de Mistress vill be pleased to hear dat,” said Ottokar, “but schtill. Is my hat, und if hyu lot don't give me a fair fight, she gets to hear about dat too.”
“Is hyu vord against ours,” said Juri, “und dere's tree of us. Und chust der vun of hyu.”
The next few minutes were decidedly crowded, and Ottokar would certainly have had to part with his hat if it had not been for a voice which called out in authoritative tones, “Enough! Now!”
To Ottokar's considerable astonishment, everyone stopped instantly. He looked up. A ship had drawn up alongside the railings under steam, its sails tightly furled. Up on the foredeck stood a slim, dark young woman with a cascade of hair so black that it threw back bluish reflections from the gas lamps. She was dressed in sailing garb, with a trim little hat and a huge pair of gold earrings, and at her side hung a wicked-looking cutlass. Her arms were folded across her chest, and she did not look pleased.
“Awww,” said Bavo sheepishly. “Keptain!”
“You know what I told you boys about fighting,” she said. “Now, you. Green feller. What's your name?”
“Ottokar,” he replied.
“OK. My crew shouldn't be getting into fights on the waterfront. But since they did, I couldn't help noticing that you were doing pretty well. You were never going to win against the three of them, but you were making a decent fight of it. Ever fancied being a sailor, Ottokar?”
“Hyu offering me vork?” he asked, surprised.
She laughed musically. “Of course! I like someone who can fight well. If you've got enough brains, I'll even make you first mate.”
Ottokar thought quickly. “Vell,” he said. “Is a tempting offer. But hy got vork already. Hy need to tink about it und see if vot hyu offering is better.” He looked at his erstwhile assailants. “She pay all right, ja?”
They nodded in unison, a little stunned. “Ho ja,” said Bavo. “She pay really goot.”
“Vell,” said Ottokar. “Hy tell hyu vot hy do. Hy go und talk to my boss und tell him somevun is offering me goot money to be a sailor. Maybe he offers me more money, maybe he tells me he can't match it und hy better go vhere de gold is. Vhen hy come back, who do hy ask for?”
She grinned. “I really think you may have the brains to be first mate,” she said. “Well, you'd better talk to your boss quickly, because I may not be here by this time tomorrow. But you need to ask for Captain Dupree.”
Ottokar stared. “Dupree?”
The Captain laughed again. “Ha! It gets them all like that. Not Bangladesh Dupree. That's my sister. I'm Kerala Dupree. We used to be a team until she went off to work for the Baron.”
“Is goot to meet hyu. Und vot hyu call de ship? Hy can't see de name from here.”
“The Morning Star. Which is also, by pure coincidence, the name of one of my favourite weapons. I do like weapons, don't you, Ottokar?”
“Not dat much,” replied Ottokar bluntly. “Hy don't need dem as much as hyu humans.”
“No, you don't, do you?” said Dupree approvingly. “Well, goodnight. I shall definitely be around until three o'clock tomorrow afternoon, and after that... who knows? I may still be here. Or I may be swaggering round the Channel doing what I do best.”
“Hy sure ve meet again,” replied Ottokar. “Goot night, Captain.” He glanced round at the other three Jägers. “Goot night, comrades. Any time hyu vant a fight, yust remember. Vun to vun und hyu on.”
They watched him stride away in the direction of Drauka's. Bavo looked at the other two and shrugged.
“Maybe he not so bad efter all,” he said.
Dupree grinned. She did that a lot. “What didn't you like about him?” she asked.
“He too fancy,” said Helmut. “Und Drauka is schveet on him.”
“Und it got to be said,” added Bavo, “hyu right about de brains. He schmot. Too schmot for a Jäger.”
“That is hardly a disadvantage,” said Dupree. “Brains are useful. And brains and brawn together are very useful indeed.”
“He fights goot,” said Juri. “Hy alvays say hyu need brains to fight goot.”
“Hyu alvays saying hy got no brains,” rumbled Helmut. “Hyu saying hy can't fight?”
“Sure hyu can fight. But hyu fight like an earthqvake. Not vot hyu might call zubtle.”
Helmut raised a meaty arm. “Enough!” barked Dupree. The arm was sheepishly lowered.
“All right,” said Dupree. “On board, the lot of you. Tonight you're going to learn how to use the sails.”
“Aww,” said Bavo. “Not der fun schtuff?”
“Depends on your idea of fun, really,” replied Dupree. “A lot of sailors I know find the sails curiously satisfying. There's a lot of skill involved, and you, my buckos, are going to learn. At least, if you want the beer and bugs to keep flowing, that is.”
“Hy not sure bugs exactly vot hyu call flow,” said Helmut.
Bavo kicked him in the shins. “Chust shut up und go on board,” he said.
* * * * *
“Why, Alice!” exclaimed Hilde Greenwood. “What a lovely surprise! Come in, dear.”
“Good to see you too, Hilde,” said Alice. “Sorry you didn't get any warning, though. I hope you're not too busy at the moment.”
“I'm not, but Charles is holed up in the work room as usual. Everything's going quite well here.”
“That's good to hear,” replied Alice, following Hilde through to the parlour. “We were a little worried, since we'd normally have had a letter from you by today.”
“Oh, yes, it was all rather hectic yesterday. I did write this afternoon, so Ottokar will get it tomorrow morning. How is Ottokar?”
“He's fine. Still enjoying London, apart from the heat. I'm sure it's cooler here.”
“Well, London is in a valley, after all, and then there's the steam,” said Hilde. “All the airships and things. And how is Mr Wooster?”
“The same as always,” replied Alice, with a smile. “And, as you've probably guessed, he's the reason I'm here. He was wondering if you and Charles would mind taking a look at this.” She produced the pendant.
Hilde ushered her into a chair and rang the bell. A maid, of the non-mechanical variety, appeared, and was asked to bring a pot of tea and inform the master that Miss Davenport was here. As the maid left, Hilde took the pendant and examined it carefully.
“Ooh!” she said. “Whatever this is, it's certainly not just a piece of chalcedony.” She turned it over. “Am I allowed to know who Katya is?”
“She's the owner,” Alice replied. “But she's not the person who made it. It was given to her. And, if it helps, the person who made it has another one, identical to this.”
“That makes a great deal of sense,” said Hilde slowly. “Are those the only two, or are there more?”
“I'm afraid I have no idea,” said Alice. “So you have some idea what it is, then?”
“Yes. It's certainly some kind of communication device, but there is something unusual about it that I can't quite put my finger on. Charles will know. As usual, he's sparking at the moment, whereas I'm just winding down for the night.” She paused. “Speaking of which, have you anywhere to stay? It's far too late to go back to London tonight, and we have a spare room here.”
“I haven't, and thank you,” said Alice gratefully. “I was going to try the pub.”
“Oh, it'll be quieter here,” Hilde assured her. “Unless my beloved blows something up, of course, but then you're used to that.”
Alice laughed. “If he does, it'll be just like old times.”
Hilde was still gazing at the pendant. “Is there any more you can tell me about this?” she asked.
“Indeed,” replied Alice. “It was made by Mrs Adelaide Buckingham, whose kidnapping we're now helping to investigate, and she gave it to Katya, her maid. On the morning that Mrs Buckingham was kidnapped, Katya reported suddenly feeling sick and dizzy, seeing indistinct blurs of colour, and hearing voices speaking in thick German accents like Jägers. That is to say, I don't think she knew what Jägers were, but they seemed a fairly obvious conclusion to us. She screamed, and then whatever was happening stopped abruptly and didn't come back. Katya doesn't strike me as an unusually nervous young woman, but, as you can imagine, she was shaken.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Hilde. “Thank you. That's the missing piece I needed. We're looking at thought transference.”
“Telepathy?”
“Not exactly, although I think it might be possible to refine the technique to allow for that. I think the device is probably triggered by strong emotion. I'm getting an idea of how it might be done, though I'll have to wait till the morning to test it out.” She paused, leaning forward with the pendant dangling from her fingers. “Let's picture it. Mrs Buckingham is kidnapped during the night... by the way, was she chloroformed?”
“We think so, yes,” said Alice, startled.
“Yes, she would have had to be, or the device would have activated at the time of her kidnap and the maid would have woken up,” said Hilde. “Good. Well, not good for poor Mrs Buckingham, with whom I have the deepest sympathy; I was unfortunate enough to be chloroformed once myself, and the after-effects were quite horrible. But good from the point of view of reconstructing what must have happened.”
“Ah,” said Alice. “I think I understand. So she comes round in a strange place, feeling sick and dizzy because of the chloroform, and it probably takes her a little while to get her eyes back in focus. All she can see is a blur, and all she can hear is a group of unfamiliar voices talking in such a heavy accent that her brain can't process it properly. She's terrified. And the device kicks in.”
Hilde nodded. “Exactly! It immediately relays those impressions to the maid, who is naturally also terrified. She screams. Her own device kicks in. At this point, one of her captors notices something odd about Mrs Buckingham's pendant – which, I am guessing, she wears all the time, even when she's sleeping – and rips it away. They must have known she was a spark. Everyone knows that. So they would have automatically distrusted any piece of jewellery that did anything out of the ordinary.”
“And the maid clearly had no idea what she'd been given,” said Alice thoughtfully. “She knew the visions weren't part of her immediate surroundings, but it didn't occur to her to connect them with the pendant until I suggested it. When she made the connection, she was more than happy to lend me the thing, knowing we were already doing our best to find her mistress.”
“This tells me,” said Hilde, “that she trusted her maid better than either her husband or her sister, which is an unfortunate state of affairs.”
“You're right,” said Alice. “There is an odd situation in that house which I don't entirely understand. Both the husband and the sister are very keen to get Mrs Buckingham back, especially the sister; I get a distinct sense that she's afraid of something, but I couldn't fathom what. And the husband is very kind and considerate towards the sister, but the sister doesn't entirely like the husband. I'm not sure if he's what she's afraid of.”
The maid returned with the tea. “Oh, thank you, Edna,” said Hilde. “Is the master on his way, or do I have to go and make diplomatic threats in person?”
Edna grinned. “He says he is, ma'am.”
“All right. If you don't notice him moving within half an hour, go and tell him I am very angry.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Edna curtseyed and went out.
“And I imagine you won't know about Mr Sherlock Holmes,” Alice continued. “He's actually the reason we've got involved.”
“Good heavens,” said Hilde. “Has Mr Wooster finally persuaded him to join the Service?”
“Oh, nothing like that,” said Alice. “It's like this.” With that, she launched into a potted account of the events of the last day or so.
“H'mm,” said Hilde. “Sounds as if Mr Holmes is not very experienced at dealing with Jägers. I fancy that, when you get him out, he won't make that mistake again.”
“Indeed,” replied Alice. “But it's an excusable error. Ottokar says there aren't more than two hundred and fifty of them in the whole of London, and most of them are respectable.”
“You'd think more criminals would want to pay them to do things, though,” said Hilde. “I mean, if you needed a street thug...”
Alice shrugged. “I doubt most criminals could afford to compete with the dockmasters. A Jäger can earn some nice money shifting cargo.”
“But this one can,” Hilde pointed out.
“True, but this one's a kidnapper. They're going to make a lot of money from the ransom.”
“Going to, yes,” said Hilde. “But they have money up front to pay the Jägers. Has there been a spate of kidnappings in London recently?”
“Not that I know of,” replied Alice. “That is quite curious, now you mention it. We did wonder about some kind of organised crime syndicate, but then, why would one of those need to pay Jägers? They'd already have people who could do the job.”
The door opened, admitting Charles Greenwood. “Alice!” he exclaimed. “How lovely to see you! I'm sorry I didn't come up straight away. I had a slight... er... problem.”
Hilde regarded her husband's bright, enthusiastic, and above all soot-covered face, and grinned. “Explosion, you mean, darling?” she enquired.
“Only a little one,” he replied.
“I suggest you take a look in the glass,” said Hilde.
Charles stepped up to the mirror above the fireplace. “Oh,” he said. “Um. I'd better go and wash.”
“It would be a good idea, yes,” replied Hilde. “And is that more soot on your collar, or is it machine oil?”
“There is a strong possibility that it may be squid ink,” Charles admitted. “Oh dear. I hope it will wash.”
“Why squid ink?” asked Hilde.
“Because ordinary ink clogs the mechanism,” explained Charles obscurely. “I'll, er, just go and make myself presentable. Back in two ticks.”
“What on earth is he working on?” asked Alice. “I'm normally quite good at guessing, but... something that uses ink and occasionally explodes?”
“It does rather sound like a mechanical sub-editor, doesn't it?” said Hilde. “But I think it's meant to be a copying machine, or at least it was when he first started work on it. It may be something different now. You know how it is.”
“Oh, I know exactly how it is, and I've missed it,” replied Alice with a smile. “Although I've been enjoying my training. Did I tell you I'm learning to fence now?”
“You did. Very sensible thing to learn.”
“And quite fun, too,” said Alice, “although I must admit I don't enjoy practising quite so much in the weather we've been having.”
Hilde's eyes lit up. “Oh, I can help you with that! Talk to me about it in the morning, and I'll go and build you one.”
“One what, sorry?” asked Alice, puzzled.
“Portable heat exchanger. You do have to keep putting water in it, but on the bright side, in a heatwave like we've just been having you can use it to make cups of tea. The device pulls the heat from the surrounding air into the water. I designed it last week because I was finding I couldn't sleep properly for the heat, and as you know I'm not like Charles. I can't function unless I get my full sleep quota.”
“I'm not sure Charles functions terribly well when he hasn't had enough sleep,” replied Alice. “He just thinks he does.”
“Can't disagree with you there,” admitted Hilde. “But there you go. We're all different.”
Charles returned shortly, wearing a clean shirt and looking rather pink. “Here I am,” he announced. “Sorry about that.”
“I have a gadget to show you,” said Alice. “Hilde and I have just been talking about it.” She handed him the pendant.
“Great Scott!” he exclaimed. “Where did you get this?”
Alice told the story again, more briefly this time.
“Ooh,” said Charles, his blue eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yes. That explains everything.”
“What's it made of, exactly?” asked Alice.
“Oh, just ordinary chalcedony initially,” replied Charles, “but that's not really the point. With a little ingenuity, you could probably use glass. It's not the material that matters, but the configuration of the microfields. You've essentially got a bubble matrix with a very precisely directed Regenschirm field in each bubble, and the arrangement will detect any sudden increase in the wearer's pulse rate while either stationary or moving slowly, which is generally an indicator of strong emotion. That causes a temporary realignment of the fields, which allows...” He stared at the teapot. “That's tea,” he interrupted himself, abruptly.
“Yes, darling,” said Hilde placidly.
“I need coffee for this. Lots and lots of coffee!”
“Charles, my darling, we are working on a case and you do not need to be up all night,” Hilde reminded him. “I think Alice already has all the explanation she is likely to need.”
“No, you don't understand, dear! I need to make some of these.” Charles had that insane gleam in his eyes which comes at times to every true spark, no matter how gentle and reasonable they might be the rest of the time.
“On the contrary,” said Hilde firmly, “I understand all too well, which is why I am forestalling you. We both know exactly how this goes. I shall want to do the same thing in the morning, and you will stop me, because I have already promised to make Alice one of those portable heat exchangers.”
“But we do need them,” Charles insisted. “And I'm sure Mr Wooster would be grateful for a consignment of them. When you have people going into danger all the time, this is just the sort of thing they need to alert others instantly if anything goes wrong.”
“Yes, they would be a really good idea,” agreed Hilde. “So we'll write them on the Things To Build board in the work room, and the moment things calm down a bit, we'll build some. And on that note, how is your copying machine progressing?”
“Oh, pretty well, thank you, dear, except that I'm having some difficulty with the automatic translator,” said Charles.
“Automatic translator,” Hilde repeated.
“Well. Yes. After all, we are informally working with Baron Wulfenbach, and so it's probably a good idea...”
“But you don't even speak German!” Hilde protested. “How on earth are you managing to build an automatic translator?”
“I think you're forgetting I have a huge number of Bach scores,” replied Charles mildly. “Both Passions, and any number of cantatas. Since I'm extremely familiar with those, I can work from there.”
“Oh well,” said Hilde. “I suppose it will be very useful if Baron Wulfenbach ever calls on us to repent.”
* * * * *
“Dr Watson!” said the boy breathlessly. “There are Jägers fighting!”
“What?” said Mr Wooster, standing up. “Where? How many?”
“That way, on the waterfront,” replied the boy, pointing, “and there's three of them settin' on one.”
“Thank you. You did right to let us know,” said Mr Wooster. “Come on, Dr Watson.”
“I've got my revolver...” Watson began.
“You won't need it,” Mr Wooster called over his shoulder. “It's a Jäger fight. If you fire at them, you won't do much damage and you'll just get them annoyed. We're going to get some more Jägers.”
“More?”
“Yes. Doctor, you have to understand people before you can deal with them. Come on! We're going to Drauka's.”
“But...”
“By way of the fight. Just so we can be certain who is involved, although I can make a very shrewd guess. We are not, however, going to get close.”
Watson hurried after him. “But you said humans couldn't go into Drauka's!”
“We're not going to! All we have to do is stand in the doorway and call for assistance. Someone will come out.”
They ran. Up ahead of them, they could now see the fight, though they were not close enough to identify the combatants in this light. There were grunts of effort and heavy thuds.
“Looks nasty,” said Watson.
“It is... wait. Stop!”
Mr Wooster held out an arm so abruptly that Watson almost barrelled straight into it. “Have they seen us?” he whispered.
“No. Look!”
The fight had stopped, and both of them could see the figure leaning down from the foredeck, her white uniform clearly visible. Her voice carried clearly through the night. Both men listened until Ottokar walked away and the three other Jägers trooped on board.
“Well,” said Mr Wooster. “The good news is that we now have an extremely good idea where the kidnap victims are. The bad news is that if that young lady is anything like her sister, we are going to have an extremely difficult time getting them to safety. She's probably more dangerous than all three of those Jägers put together.”
“You know her sister, then?” asked Watson.
“I do have the, er, pleasure of her acquaintance,” replied Mr Wooster guardedly. “Mercifully, the Baron is able to keep her in check. Most of the time. Now, let's go and catch up with Ottokar.”
This proved to take longer than anticipated, because Ottokar was walking quickly just in case Captain Dupree changed her mind and sent one or more of her crew out to fetch him. Mr Wooster called as soon as they were in hailing distance, and Ottokar stopped and turned.
“Ho,” he said, striding up to them. “Glad to see hyu. Hy had a bit of an interesting time. But hy got some news.”
“Don't want to steal your thunder, old man, but we know,” replied Mr Wooster. “One of the Irregulars told us there was a Jäger fight, so we came running. We were going to go to Drauka's and get you some help, but then we saw Captain Dupree stop it. We heard the whole thing.”
“Tree of dem,” said Ottokar, disgustedly. “Der Helmut vanted my hat. Is hokay. A hat challenge is a hat challenge. Hy vould have had no problem vit him fighting me for der hat. But vun of de most basic rules is, a hat challenge is vun to vun. Hyu don't get hyu friends to help.” He paused. “Vell, unless de person hyu challenging already got help. Dat's fine. Dat happen, hyu allowed to bring in hyu own to make it fair. But de really big rule is, hyu never fight anyvun for a hat if is obvious hyu going to vin from before hyu schtart. No honour in dat.”
“Your hat?!” said Watson. “That was all he wanted?”
Ottokar drew himself up to his full height. “Hats,” he said sternly, “are impawtent.”
“Er...” said Watson, helplessly.
Mr Wooster raised a hand. “Look, Doctor, this is a cultural thing. I'm sure Ottokar will be more than happy to explain it to you in detail when we have the time, and also regale you with the story of how he won his hat, which, let me tell you, is well worth listening to. But right now, we need to be working out how to get Holmes and Mrs Buckingham off that ship.”
“We get the police, I suppose,” said Watson.
“I'm afraid we don't have time to do that,” replied Mr Wooster. “By the time we can get a search warrant, she'll be gone. And even with a search warrant, she can easily keep a couple of officers talking long enough for the Jägers to get the captives off the ship. By boat, one would hope, though if she's desperate she probably won't hesitate to have them thrown overboard.”
“What's her motive?” asked Watson.
“Well, she is a Dupree,” said Mr Wooster. “Murder, mayhem and money, I should think.”
“Hy don't tink hy buy dat,” said Ottokar slowly. “She could get dat at sea. Hy mean, she some kind of pirate, right?”
“I should think so,” replied Mr Wooster. “She did say she used to work with her sister, and her sister was a pirate before she went to work for the Baron. So what's your theory, then?”
“Hy tink yust der money,” said Ottokar. “Und she got it already, und now she paying Jägers vit it. Hy tink somevun paid her to do de kidnappings.” He paused. “Anodder ting. Hyu saw de ship. About how many humans hyu tink it needs to run it?”
“Maybe twelve to fifteen,” said Mr Wooster, puzzled.
“Ja. But she teaching de Jägers how to sail it. Und did hyu see any humans apart from de Captain?”
“I think I'm beginning to follow,” said Mr Wooster. “She must have had a crew to get here. A human crew. But now she's training a Jäger crew.”
“Vhich is goot sense for a pirate,” said Ottokar. “She needs only tree Jägers, maybe four. Ve schtrong und tough, ve don't need as much schleep as de humans, ve don't get sick, und ve fight really goot. Even if she paid each of us tree times as much as a human, she schtill comes out ahead. Course, she not going to get me, but she don't know that.” He grinned.
“Are you saying she's just abandoning her original crew?” asked Watson.
“Is looking a lot like it,” replied Ottokar. “Hyu know, it vould be really helpful if ve had some kids handy vot could schtand about loafing near de ship in case she vants to send anyvun a message.”
“We have,” said Watson, surprised. “We've got several of the Baker Street Irregulars.”
Ottokar's eyes gleamed. “Ve have?! Goot man! Vell, can hyu go und find dem und get dem to loaf?”
Watson glanced at Mr Wooster. “Do it,” he said. “Ottokar and I will meet you back at the pub.”
Watson nodded, and hurried off into the night. “Now,” said Mr Wooster. “You've clearly been doing some thinking, Ottokar. I think I have an idea what lines you've been thinking along, but I should like to hear you explain it yourself.”
They started walking. “Ja,” said Ottokar. “Hokay. Vell, ven ve schtarted out, it vos looking like de person vot did der kidnapping paid some Jägers to help. So hy vent off to look for Jägers vit extra money und hy found dose tree. Den ve find out who paying dem, und she not yust paying dem to kidnap pipple. Und dat vos vot got me tinking.”
“So what's your take on it?” asked Mr Wooster.
“Vell. Look at it from vhere she schtanding. She comes to London vit a human crew. Hy can underschtand vy she vould vant to schvap dem for Jägers, but der kidnapping is anodder matter. From her point of view, is a vaste of time. If she vants money, vell, she a pirate. She can get it at sea. Is probably much less risky dan kidnapping somevun in London. So vot hy tinking is dat somevun else must have paid her to do it.”
Mr Wooster nodded approvingly. “Yes. That is also what I'm thinking. She got the money in advance, and she's been using it to full advantage. I expect she told the person who hired her that she'd need to hire Jägers for the kidnapping; since she probably already had the idea of hiring them as crew, that would have worked out quite conveniently for her.”
“Ja. She doesn't seem to me like de sort of person vot vould take risks for somevun else vitout getting der money up front. So, is somevun out dere vot vants Mrs Buckingham kidnapped. Dat is a bit schtrange. Hy can underschtand how hyu get pipple vanting odder pipple killed, or tings schtolen, but a kidnapping?”
“Indeed,” said Mr Wooster. “I've been thinking about that. It could simply be that they need a spark for some nefarious purpose, and Mrs Buckingham is a well-known one. But if that were the case, you would think they would probably want to find one who wasn't so well-known. The case has made the national newspapers, after all.”
“Ja. Dat didn't make any sense,” Ottokar agreed. “Und dere's der money, but dey already paid a lot of dat up front to Captain Dupree, und if she messes up or lets dem down, dey end up losing money, not gaining it. But den Mr Holmes schtarts on de case, und vitin someting like tvelve hours, dey kidnap him too.” He paused, and looked hard at Mr Wooster. “Now. How hyu tink dey knew so fast?”
“And that, I think,” said Mr Wooster, “is the key question.”
“Hyu got an answer?” asked Ottokar.
Mr Wooster nodded slowly. “Yes. I can see you have, too, so I'll give you mine first. With the exception of our own group and Dr Watson, there were only two people who knew that Mr Holmes had been called in. One was, of course, Miss Temple, who called him in; and the other was Mr Buckingham. Who didn't really want him involved in the first place, but, when he found that Miss Temple had done so, acquiesced and made the best of it. Or seemed to.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar. “Und de next day he vent to see Mr Holmes. Vell, dere vos notting in de papers about Mr Holmes disappearing. It could all have been innocent. Could have been he really didn't know. But ve know he didn't tell Miss Temple vhere he vos going, und dat says to me he vos vorried because dere vere no headlines. If he had told Captain Dupree to get Mr Holmes, und she hadn't sent a message to say she got him because she tought it vould be in de papers, he vouldn't know vot vos up, so he might vell go to see Mr Holmes und check if he vos schtill around.”
“Impeccable logic so far,” said Mr Wooster. “Given that Miss Temple knew he hadn't wanted Mr Holmes involved, she would have thought it rather strange if she had known her brother-in-law was going to see him. And that, I think, probably clears her. Not definitely, because she could just have been sharp enough to lie to Alice about not knowing; but I'd be very surprised, given everything else.”
“If she had a brain like dat, she vouldn't have to be schcared of Mr Buckingham,” replied Ottokar. “No. Hy tink hyu right. She innocent.”
“All right,” said Mr Wooster. “So why would Mr Buckingham want his wife kidnapped?”
“He doesn't,” replied Ottokar. “He vants her killed.”
Mr Wooster nodded. “I'm afraid so. Motive?”
“He in love vit Miss Temple. Even hy can tell dat. She not in love vit him, but if her sister is out of der vay, maybe he tinks he can persvade her to marry him.”
“And, of course, there's the money,” said Mr Wooster. “He has an income of his own, but not enough to keep him in the style to which he has become accustomed – the style, indeed, which he possibly feels is his right as a descendant of the aristocracy. If there were a divorce, he would lose the house and any inheritance he would have had from his wife. If she dies, though, he gets everything and can carry on as before.”
“Ja. But if she gets murdered, is alvays going to be a suspicion. So, inschtead, he plans to have her kidnapped, because nobody vill tink he vould be behind dat. After all, he der vun dat got to pay der ransom. He arranges to make a big show of paying der ransom, but he tells de kidnapper to cheat him. Take der money und run. So de kidnapper does dat, und is all a huge tragedy und he is a victim und everyvun feels sorry for him. Oh, and der ransom money probably not real. After all, de kidnapper already got paid.”
“Right,” said Mr Wooster. “And Captain Dupree not only gets enough money to make it worth taking the risk, but also the perfect opportunity to hire herself some Jägers and see how they handle a land-based assignment before she takes them out to sea. But I think there is one other thing going on here that you haven't yet mentioned. I did give you a little clue earlier.” He smiled.
Ottokar thought. “No,” he admitted. “Hyu lost me.”
“Well, what's today's date?”
“De seventeenth... Ho! But der ransom is supposed to be paid on de tventy-first!”
“Exactly!” said Mr Wooster. “Never invite a Dupree to double-cross you, for she will do it far more thoroughly than you ever envisaged.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar. “She gets her very own tame schpark. Und de only person vot knows vhere Mrs Buckingham is vould be Mr Buckingham, und he can't say vitout incriminating himself.”
“And Mr Sherlock Holmes,” added Mr Wooster. “Although I have to say I'm not sure he would be of any direct use. I'm afraid she may try to kill him.”
Ottokar nodded sombrely. “Ja. Hy guess she probably alvays planned to keep Mrs Buckingham, but den she got a message saying to kidnap Mr Holmes too und he vosn't in her plan. Hy hope she not killed him yet.”
“It may not be as serious as that,” said Mr Wooster. “Like an idiot, I didn't ask the police what date was on the ransom note for him. It could be that she just wants to collect the ransom on him before she leaves. If making a profit on him is as easy as killing him, she'll go for the profit, I dare say.”
They reached the pub. “Vell,” said Ottokar, “vhichever vay it is, ve got to get dem off dat ship before she sets sail.”
Mr Wooster nodded. “Have you any ideas on that one?”
“Not yet,” replied Ottokar. “But hyu bet hyu life hy vorking on it.”
* * * * *
There had been a train, which was just as well, as it turned out. Consequently, Alice got to Mr Wooster's office just before ten the following morning, and found it already rather crowded. There were, of course, Mr Wooster and Ottokar, but there was also Dr Watson, who was looking determined and clutching his revolver. Behind Watson stood Mr Tufnell, the long-suffering administrator, who was looking even more melancholic than he normally did; his moustache drooped like a plant wilting in the heat. And sitting in front of Mr Wooster...
“Ah, Miss Davenport!” said Mr Wooster. “Here you are. Allow me to introduce Mrs Elizabeth Chadwick. She is my immediate superior, and she will be taking over your training from today.”
Alice gaped. Mrs Chadwick was tall, straight-backed, severe-looking, and dressed in deep mourning. She looked, in fact, very much like a headmistress, and her steel-rimmed spectacles enhanced the resemblance.
“Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Chadwick,” Alice managed politely, not entirely certain whether or not it was the truth.
“You too, Miss Davenport,” replied Mrs Chadwick.
“You're... taking over our training?” asked Alice. “Just like that? What's happened?”
“Simply the fact that Mr Wooster is unable to be in two places at once. He was recalled to London to deal with another incident, being the most experienced person we had to deal with it. During that investigation, the Chatterjee case came up in Kendal, and I gave him leave to go there and assist you with it.” She looked over her glasses. “Which involved some slightly heterodox action on his part, but we go by results, and those were very good. You did an excellent job among you. He returned to London after that and concluded the investigation, and then persuaded me to allow him to stay here for a while in order train you himself. He certainly made a good case; there really was no other suitable agent, you both showed remarkable potential, and the situation in his regular posting appeared to be stable for the moment.”
“And, er, now it isn't,” said Mr Wooster apologetically. “I have to leave the country as soon as possible. I had to talk Mrs Chadwick into allowing me to stay long enough to say goodbye to both of you.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry!” said Alice. “We'll both miss you.”
“I'll write when I can,” he promised. “And I know I'm leaving you in the best possible hands. I should tell you that Mrs Chadwick is not normally directly responsible for training new agents. She is too senior to do that.”
“But I intend to make a special exception for you two,” added Mrs Chadwick. “With the hope and expectation that you will both be training new agents yourselves very soon.”
“Is a shame hyu got to leave now,” said Ottokar, “ven de case not qvite in der bag.”
Mr Wooster shrugged elegantly. “It's the way things go sometimes, I'm afraid, Ottokar.” He smiled wryly. “But I understand that I've recently acted in such a way as to improve my chances of a longer recall next time.”
“Materially,” said Mrs Chadwick. “And now you'd better be gone, or you will miss your airship.”
Ottokar slapped him on the back, which almost sent him stumbling forward; but the Jäger was much more aware of his own strength now. “Hyu look after hyuself,” he said.
“You too, old man.” He turned to Alice and shook her hand warmly. “And you, the same. You'll make an outstanding agent, so long as you always remember to keep your temper.”
She smiled. “I'll try. Safe journey. The Greenwoods send their best wishes.”
There was silence for a while after he had gone, and then Mrs Chadwick said, “Right. Well, as Ottokar has just reminded us, we have a case to conclude. We can't just sit here.”
Alice drew out the pendant. “It's a kind of communicator. If the wearer is subject to a strong emotion, it will send an image of what they can see and hear to the pendant's twin. However, what the maid saw and heard was indistinct and confusing due to the after-effects of chloroform.”
“Make a note of that, Mr Tufnell,” Mrs Chadwick instructed. “We also have some information you don't know, Miss Davenport. The Jägers who were involved in both kidnappings are working for Captain Kerala Dupree of the Morning Star, currently lying at anchor in the docks. Last night Mr Wooster and Ottokar deduced between them that she was being paid by Arthur Buckingham, and we now have proof that they were correct. Dr Watson?”
“Yes, madam,” said Watson. “I posted some of our Irregulars near the ship, so that if Captain Dupree decided to send a message to Mr Buckingham, we could intercept it. She did, and we have.” He unfolded a piece of paper on which were written the words: “Of course he is here. Stop worrying. Dupree.”
Ottokar chuckled throatily. “Hy tink is about time he ought to schtart vorrying.”
“Yes,” replied Mrs Chadwick, “but he doesn't know that, and I intend to keep him in that blissful state of ignorance right up to the moment of his arrest. The problem we have at the moment is how to get Mrs Buckingham and Mr Holmes off that ship.”
“Well, she did offer Ottokar a job as first mate,” said Watson.
“She did?” asked Alice, surprised. “In that case, it's easy! Take the job, tell them you can cook as well, make them a first-class meal, and slip them all a mickey finn.”
“Hy tought of dat,” said Ottokar. “Is not going to vork. Hy give dem enough of anyting to knock out de Jägers, it kill de captain. Und even if hy do de special fried locusts for de Jägers or some odder ting vot de captain von't eat, is schtill der problem of knocking dem all out at vunce. If vun goes first, de odders vill be suspicious.”
“So do you have any alternative suggestions?” asked Mrs Chadwick. “You seem to be something of an ideas person.”
“Vell,” said Ottokar. “Dis Captain Dupree. Mister Vooster says she really tough.”
“Yes,” replied Mrs Chadwick, frowning. “Why?”
“Hyu tink she as tough as a Jäger?”
“Not if she got hurt,” said Mrs Chadwick. “She is, after all, human. But I would certainly say, from what we know of her, that she could fight a Jäger and stand a chance of winning. Well, perhaps not you, because you are clearly unusually intelligent. But most Jägers.”
Ottokar grinned broadly, displaying all his fangs. “Dat is de best news so far today,” he said.
Mrs Chadwick stared at him. “Why, for heaven's sake? It's bad enough that there are already three of your kind on that ship, without their being led by someone who could outfight them!”
“Vosn't tinking of getting her to fight dat lot,” said Ottokar. “Hyu seen her, Doctor Vatson. Don't hyu tink she got a really nize hat?”
“Well... yes... but...” said Watson. “Hats again! What is it with your people and hats?”
“Hy told hyu. Dey impawtent.” Ottokar's grin broadened still further. “Und Drauka not got a hat right now.”
“Drauka,” said Alice, grinning back at him. “That would be the lady who's bigger than you and famous for her left hook, right?”
“Dat's de vun,” said Ottokar happily. “Ve vant a distraction, all dat's got to happen is hy go in Drauka's place und tell her dere's a captain vot can fight like a Jäger out dere vearing a goot hat.”
“Ottokar,” said Alice. “That is actually brilliant.”
“Und vhile all dat is going on, ve schlip round der back of der ship in anodder boat, ve trow a grapnel line, hy climb on board, find de prisoners und get dem off. Probably got to be me because hy can break de doors.”
“That's not a bad plan,” said Mrs Chadwick, “but it's still dangerous.”
“We could make it a bit safer by encouraging the fight away from the ship,” said Alice. “Look, we can do this. We've got the police. We've got the Irregulars. And we have, at least potentially, got quite a lot of Jägers.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar. “If is a hat fight, dey all vant to come und vatch.”
“Well,” said Mrs Chadwick. “I have to admit, I think that's better than what I had in mind. I was going to lure Dupree ashore and have her arrested – we've got enough evidence to do that – but that doesn't get the Jägers out of the way, whereas I think your plan will.”
“So hyu know about Jägers, then,” said Ottokar.
“Indeed. I have made it my business to do so, since I am about to start training one. I had Mr Wooster brief me thoroughly. I am now familiar with the etiquette of hat challenges.” She permitted herself a small smile. “And allow me to congratulate you personally on the acquisition of that fine shako you are currently wearing.”
“Danke,” said Ottokar.
“I suppose she can't turn it down, can she?” asked Alice suddenly. “It would really mess things up if she did.”
“Ho no,” replied Ottokar. “She do dat, she lose de reschpect of her crew. Und she vill know dat.”
“All right,” said Mrs Chadwick. “We're going to do this. Dr Watson, do you still want to help?”
“Anything I can do, madam,” replied Watson.
“Good. I am going to requisition a police launch, and I should like you and your revolver to be on board. Ottokar, you already know what you have to do, but when you've made certain the fight is going to take place, I want you to slip away to the pub where you and the other two met last night. We'll send one of the Irregulars to fetch you. As for you, Miss Davenport, I suppose you can row?”
“Of course,” said Alice. “I went to that sort of school.”
“Excellent. I shall arrange a rowing boat for you, then. Your job is to be the intrepid reporter, and you will be far safer doing that from the river. Ask as many silly questions as you like and make a great show of writing earnestly in a notebook; your real job, of course, is to ensure that nobody is watching the Morning Star. Think you can do that?”
Alice nodded. “I'm pretty sure I can. What shall I do with my luggage, by the way?”
“Just leave it here,” replied Mrs Chadwick. “We'll collect it later. For the moment, you'd better go down to the docks with Ottokar and wait in the pub with him until I can get you a boat.”
“Well,” said Alice, once she and Ottokar were safely out of earshot. “What do you think of her?”
“Hy tink she probably quite nize,” replied Ottokar. “But she looks schcary. Maybe dat is so pipple vill take her seriously.”
“I'm not sure I like her,” said Alice. “I mean, just sending Mr Wooster off like that before we've finished the case.”
“She probably got no choice. Mister Vooster keeps saying dey short of agents.”
“I suppose you're right.” She paused. “Incidentally, do you get the impression Mr Wooster's been in some kind of disgrace?”
“Ja. Hy tink tings may have gone vest a bit vhere he vos vorking.”
“Well, things do that sometimes,” said Alice, “but, come on. You know him. He's really sharp. Do you really think it would have been his fault if they did?”
“Hy don't know. Ve can all make mischtakes. Und he alvays trying to do too much.”
“That's because he's conscientious, though,” Alice objected. “I know he's trying to do too much, but he's doing it to the best of his ability. I think she's been too harsh with him.”
“Hyu don't know vot happened,” Ottokar pointed out. “Und hyu remember de last ting he said to hyu. Keep hyu temper. He vouldn't vant hyu to lose it on his behalf. Hyu got to vork vit dis lady.”
“Yes, I know what he said,” replied Alice, a little impatiently. “But when I lose my temper, it's because things aren't fair. And I really don't think she's been fair with him.”
Ottokar turned to look at her. “Is probably not de best idea to get too fond of Mister Vooster,” he said. “Vould be fine if ve veren't in dis business. Hy'd be cheering hyu on. He a goot man. But vit tings being as dey are...”
“Ottokar!” snapped Alice. “I really hope you're not trying to suggest what it sounds like.”
“Vell, if hyu in any doubt hy could make it plainer,” replied Ottokar, unfazed.
“Oh, don't.”
They walked out into the street in silence, placid on Ottokar's side, considerably less so on Alice's. It was Ottokar who broke it.
“Hyu vant to take a cab or get de airship?” he asked, as if nothing had happened.
She looked at him. “Oh, what does it matter? Better be a cab.”
“Now, hyu listen,” said Ottokar. “Hy don't mind if hyu vant to shout und sulk at me for a vhile und get it off hyu chest, but vhen ve get to de docks it got to schtop. Ve got vork to do. Hokay?”
“Oh, Ottokar!” she said. “I'm sorry. It's not your fault. It's not you I'm angry with at all, really. I know you're not trying to hurt me.”
“No. Hy trying to help hyu not to hurt hyuself.”
“You... may actually be a bit late,” she admitted. “I didn't realise how things were going myself until she just suddenly walked in and sent him away like that.”
“Hy don't suppose anyvun did,” replied Ottokar soothingly. “Und at least hyu got to say gootbye to him.”
She sniffed. “Yes. He's a gentleman. Manners are important to him. Even if half Europa's on fire, he won't rush off without saying goodbye to his trainees if he can possibly avoid it.”
“Ja. Like hy say, he a goot man. Is a big shame. But, hey, maybe he go on doing goot schtuff und dey bring him back.”
“I hope so. Ottokar, you won't tell anyone, will you? Not even Charles and Hilde? I might tell Hilde myself one day, but only when I'm ready.”
“Hyu yust like a sister to me. Hy don't say a vord.”
“Thank you. Oh, and... speaking of Charles and Hilde, they send their love, and they've promised you a parcel soon. Hilde built me a portable heat exchanger to cool things down. She didn't have time to build you one as well before I had to catch the train, but she says it will be in the post.”
“Dey goot pipple,” said Ottokar.
Alice smiled, a little wanly. “And you're good people too. Come on, then. Let's go and pull off a famous victory.”
“Und den hyu write und tell somevun all about it,” said Ottokar. “So... ve better get it right, hokay?”
The smile widened a little. “All right... brother.”
* * * * *
“All right,” said Mrs Chadwick briskly. “Are we ready?”
Ottokar beamed. “Hyu bet. Drauka on her vay to der ship now, und she got an audience. Hy made sure some of hyu Irregulars knew vot vos going to happen.” He nodded at Dr Watson. “Soon, every Jäger on de docks is going to know, und most of dem, hy reckon dey decide to take deir lunch break right about now.”
“Well done,” said Mrs Chadwick. “You, Miss Davenport, scull upriver a little. We're going to take up position towards the opposite bank. When you see Dupree and her crew leave the ship, signal us.”
“Aye, aye, ma'am,” said Alice. She rowed away, the oars plashing gently in the water.
Ottokar strode on board the police launch and pulled up the gangplank behind him. “Is only two tings wrong vit dis plan,” he said cheerfully. “Vun is hy don't get to see de fight. De odder is hy don't get to be in de fight. Hy vouldn't mind a round vit dat Captain Dupree.”
“I suppose you may get the chance if she beats your friend Drauka,” said Watson. “But... I mean... she's...”
“She's vot?” asked Ottokar.
“Well. I mean, she's a woman.”
“Vot dat got to do vit it? She could kick hyu backside from here to Schcotland.”
Watson subsided. Mrs Chadwick appeared to be stifling a chuckle. Getting her features under control, she called out to the police pilot, “All right. Bring her out, Sergeant.”
The launch pulled gently away from the waterfront, taking a diagonal course across the river so that it ended up more or less opposite the Morning Star. Watson leaned over the rail, shading his eyes against the sparkle of the sun on the water.
“There's Miss Davenport,” he called. “She's waving.”
“Excellent!” said Mrs Chadwick. “Pull up close to the target.”
The sergeant obeyed. Soon they could all hear the commotion on the other side of the ship. Above the general hubbub of the Jägers, Dupree's voice rang out clearly.
“There,” she called mockingly. “See how you like that. I reckon a few extra scars will suit you better than my hat, and that's all you'll get from me.”
“Hyu tink?” roared another voice, unquestionably Drauka's.
“Vow,” murmured Ottokar. “Drauka's hurt. Now she going to be really furious.”
There was a yip from Dupree which certainly seemed to bear this out. Ottokar was already throwing the grapnels. “You go with him, Dr Watson,” said Mrs Chadwick. “If the fight is over too soon, Ottokar will need cover.”
Watson nodded. Ottokar hauled on his line to test it, and then started climbing. Watson followed him. “Hyu,” said Ottokar, “schtay on deck und keep hyu head down. If dey come back on board, hy relying on hyu to make lots of trouble und noise.”
“But how will you get the prisoners off if that happens?” asked Watson.
“Hy punch a hole in der side. So hy hope hyu can schvim really goot.”
“I can definitely do that. Er. Thank you for the warning.”
“Hyu velcome. But hy hope hy don't have to do dat. Dose ship timbers, dey really tough. Hyu get schplinters.”
“I suppose,” said Watson thoughtfully, as they eased themselves over the rail, “we couldn't find a way to pull up the gangplank?”
“Is a goot idea in teory, but hy expect Dupree got a gun,” replied Ottokar. “She a pirate, after all.”
Watson nodded. “True. We could hardly avoid being seen. Although I think the fight is moving a little upriver.”
“Ja. Dat vould be Alice. She talking to der audience und sculling a liddle at de same time. She moving dem vitout dem knowing it.”
“All right,” said Watson. “I'll hide behind this coil of rope and keep my revolver ready. Good luck!”
“Hyu too.”
Ottokar disappeared below deck. It was dark, and he almost tripped on the ladder; he had been a soldier, not a sailor, and his experience of ships was limited. There was a long corridor, and as his eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom he saw that there were several doors leading off it.
He tried the first one. It opened onto a generously sized cabin with a lot of purple and orange silk cushions scattered around. Dupree, then. Opposite that was an unoccupied cabin, and two more cabins followed, one on each side. These were both smaller, and each contained two hammocks rather than one. There were a few belongings in these, presumably the worldly goods of Bavo, Juri and Helmut. Next came various store cupboards and the galley, and then, at last, a locked door. Ottokar tapped on it.
“Anyvun dere?” he asked.
There was no reply. Thinking he might well have been mistaken for one of the crew, he smashed the lock and opened the door. In front of him, lying in a huddle on the floor of a room no larger than a broom cupboard, was none other than Mr Sherlock Holmes, trussed up like a chicken and gagged effectively and viciously.
Ottokar quickly knelt down and released him. “Hyu don't look so goot,” he said, concerned.
“I'm not,” Holmes croaked. “They haven't given me any food or water. I think they're going to dump me in the estuary.”
“Ho, no, dey not. Can hyu valk?”
“I'm not sure.”
“Hold on. Hy know vhere dey keep de fresh vater. Hy get hyu some, und den maybe hyu in a better position to answer. But ve got to be qvick. Vhere's Mrs Buckingham?”
“I don't know, but I deduce she is probably here somewhere.”
“Hokay. Hy find her. Vhen hyu had a drink, hyu can tell me how hyu vorked dat vun out.”
Ottokar ran back to the stores, found a large jug and a glass, filled the jug with water and hurried back to Holmes. “Ve get hyu someting to eat later,” he promised. “Is notting very interesting on board anyvay. Main ting right now is hyu need to drink.”
“Thank you,” said Holmes.
“Hyu velcome. Hy be back vhen hy find Mrs Buckingham.”
Mrs Buckingham turned out to be in the room opposite, and thankfully in a much better state. Since Dupree had a use for her, she had been allowed food and water; but she shrank away when she saw Ottokar.
“Is all right,” said Ottokar soothingly. “Hy not vun of de crew. Hy come to get hyu und Mister Holmes out of here.”
“Mr... who?” stammered Mrs Buckingham.
“Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. Hyu sister called him in to look for hyu. Vot dey didn't know vos dat dey vere dealing vit Jägers.” He paused. “Hy sorry about dat. Hy mean, not my doing, but, hyu know, my pipple.”
“And you are...?” she asked, slowly.
“Ottokar. Mister Holmes is not in a goot vay. Dey vere going to kill him, so dey didn't take der trouble to feed him. Hy got him some vater, so maybe he a liddle better now. Hy tink, der vay tings are, maybe ve get hyu off der boat first und den see about Mister Holmes.”
“Well. All right.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Mr Ottokar, do you know if my husband is behind this?”
“Ho ja. He in it up to his neck. But not hyu sister.”
She sighed. “I wouldn't suspect Constance. But she's afraid of Arthur, so there wasn't a great deal I could do to enable her to back me up. Did Katya...” She considered her words carefully. “Did Katya report anything out of the ordinary?”
“Der pendant? Ja. Vos a clever device hyu made dere. Dat's how ve knew dere vos Jägers.”
Mrs Buckingham smiled. “Oh good. Is Katya all right now?”
“She vos vhen ve last saw her. Now, come on. Ve not got much time. Ve got a distraction happening right now, und it may not last much longer.”
Mrs Buckingham gathered up her skirts and hurried after Ottokar without further ado. He led her up on deck and over to the grapnel lines. “Now, qvick as hyu can!” he said.
A yell went up from the waterfront. “Hey!”
“Vhoa,” said Ottokar. “Hokay. Make dat even qvicker. Doesn't matter if hyu fall. Dey'll catch hyu below.”
“I...” began Mrs Buckingham, then saw what was happening and vaulted over the rail with astonishing rapidity for someone wearing a full crinoline. Watson leapt out from behind the coil of rope. Dupree, bruised, bloodied, furious, and noticeably hatless, was charging up the gangplank like an avenging angel, brandishing her cutlass.
Watson shot and missed. “Get below!” shouted Ottokar, rushing forward to meet Dupree. “Hy hold her off. Hyu see to hyu friend. He not too goot at der moment.”
Watson needed no further instruction. Ottokar planted himself at the top of the gangplank. “Hokay,” he said. “So hyu preddy goot at fighting Jägers. Maybe hy not qvite as tough as Drauka, but hy only got to be tough enough.”
“You traitor,” snarled Dupree. “You could have been my first mate.”
“Hy vouldn't vork for a kidnapper,” replied Ottokar implacably.
That brought her up short. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“Ottokar. Yust Ottokar.”
“Vot going on up dere?” demanded Drauka, from below. Ottokar, to his great delight, could see that she was now wearing Dupree's hat.
“Hey!” That was Bavo's voice. “Keptain! Vot der dumboozle...?”
“You lunkheads!” shouted Dupree. “Get up here and back me up! That Ottokar's on board without my permission.”
But Drauka had heard the word “kidnapper”, and now she saw a quick flurry of grey silk as Mrs Buckingham swung desperately on the grapnel line and momentarily into view. She positioned herself squarely at the foot of the gangplank.
“Hy don't tink so, boys,” she said. “Ve got enough pipple vot don't like us as it is. No need to give dem goot reasons.”
“Stop interfering, you!” yelled Dupree.
“Vot? Hyu vant anodder fight?”
“Let us past!” rumbled Helmut. “She our boss. She pay goot money.”
“Hyu yust try it und hy bash hyu into der vater,” retorted Drauka. “Hy hurt, but not so bad hy can't punch.”
Dupree, increasingly frustrated, was standing at the top of the gangplank weighing her options. Had she not just lost the fight with Drauka, she would not have hesitated to take Ottokar on. But she too was hurt, and she had not the resilience of a Jäger. Besides, she had just learnt the hard way that if you get in an unexpected lightning cutlass slash on a Jäger, you will probably not disable your opponent as you would if they were human. You will just annoy them, and that is unlikely to improve your chances.
She was just considering the negotiation option when Helmut and his two friends took the decision out of her hands. They all charged Drauka together. The barkeeper managed to keep her promise to Helmut in spectacular fashion, landing a round-arm punch on his jaw that sent him crashing through the railings into the water, but the other two knocked her down and flew past her. Dupree staggered, catching the rail.
“See to him,” she said.
Ottokar caught up a spar and brought it down with all his force on the top of the gangplank. It snapped away from the ship, tossing Dupree and the other two members of her crew into the water alongside Helmut. There was a cheer from the shore. Even those who were undecided about Ottokar were most definitely on Drauka's side, and any two Jägers who knocked her down, well, as far as they were concerned, those two Jägers deserved a good dunking.
Watson's head popped up from below. “Is it safe?” he hissed. “He's weak, but he can walk.”
“Safe as ve going to get,” replied Ottokar. “Hyu get him off. Ven hyu get back to der boat, tell dem hy going to fish out de Captain. She a goot fighter, but she hurt qvite bad. She von't schtay afloat long.”
So saying, he leapt into the river. The three Jägers were already climbing out onto the bank, to an accompaniment of derisive noises, and the police were starting to arrive in numbers. Drauka was on her feet again, dusting off her new hat with care and pride. Alice, who had pulled sharply back to avoid all the splashing, rowed closer again. “So, Miss Drauka,” she said. “That was a truly exciting hat challenge. Perhaps you'd like to say a few words for the benefit of our readers?”
Ottokar grinned. Despite earlier events, Alice was enjoying herself. She would recover in time. Then he noticed with alarm that Dupree had stopped moving. A moment ago, she had been thrashing around in the water, but now she was ominously still. He quickened his stroke and reached her within seconds, hauling her up above the surface so that she could breathe.
She coughed, spluttered, and then flashed him a look of pure hate. “Isn't it enough for you to spoil all my plans?” she demanded. “Now you have to go and save my life too, so I have to be bloody grateful?”
“Hyu can be ungrateful if hyu like,” replied Ottokar. “Hy don't really care, vhichever vay. But hy got to save hyu life so hyu can schtand trial.”
“All right. I officially hate clever Jägers.”
“Vell, hy not exactly mad about hyu,” said Ottokar, “but hyu a goot fighter. Hyu can come und fight me any time ven hyu recovered. If dey don't hang hyu, vhich of course dey might.”
“Oh. Thanks a whole bunch,” spat Dupree.
* * * * *
“Would you believe it?” said Alice. “The Times actually bought my article. Seriously.”
Ottokar stirred the sauce, sniffed it, and added a little extra cumin. “Is goot. Hyu should tell Mrs Chadwick. Now hyu a real freelance journalist, is goot for cover.”
“Yes, but I'm not sure I'm any good at finding news stories if I'm not actually helping to investigate them. Still, it's a little extra cash for my savings account.” She peered into a pan. “Dare I ask what those are?”
“Oh, dose are for Drauka,” said Ottokar, with a grin. “Hy tought hy vould make her a liddle treat. After all, she vos a big help.”
“All right, then I won't enquire further,” replied Alice, smiling. “I'm glad she's able to come tonight. I think I'm going to like her, from what I've already seen and heard of her.”
“Ja, she goot. Und hy glad Mister Holmes is recovered enough now. Good ting his best friend is a doctor, ja?”
“Indeed,” said Alice. “And something tells me Mr Holmes won't let him write up this particular adventure. Not that it's Mr Holmes' fault. No matter how clever and well-prepared someone is, they're not going to be able to deal with three unexpected Jägers if they don't know what they're capable of.”
“Vos a learning experience,” replied Ottokar. “For both of dem, really. Hy tink der doctor knows us a bit better now, too. Und tonight dey going to learn dat some Jägers can cook.”
“Yes, and I'm glad they've both agreed to come. But honestly, Ottokar, did you absolutely have to invite Mrs Chadwick?”
“Ja. Hy tink hy did. But only because hy can't invite Mister Vooster. She schtanding in for him. Hy vanted everyvun togedder vot helped to solve der case. Except de Irregulars. Hy couldn't invite dem all. But hy did bake a whole load of bread rolls und cakes for dem.”
“Standing in for him? That really doesn't make me feel any better, Ottokar.”
“Vell, somevun's got to do it. Hyu got a better suggestion?”
Alice shrugged. “I suppose not. It's just difficult, that's all.”
“Hy tink dat's der door,” said Ottokar.
Alice nodded. “All right. I'd better go to the parlour and play hostess.”
It turned out to be Drauka, who had somewhat overestimated the time she needed to get there. “Ho!” she exclaimed. “Hyu de yournalist leddy.”
“That's right,” replied Alice, with a smile. “Alice Davenport. Ottokar tipped me off that there was going to be a hat fight. Would you like to see my article? It's going in the Times.”
“Hy read it ven it comes out,” said Drauka. “Is goot hyu write about Jäger culture.”
“Will you have a seat?” asked Alice.
“Danke.” Drauka sat. “Zo. Dis Ottokar, hy been tinking.”
“Oh yes?” asked Alice, non-committally.
“Vell. De odder day hy told him he ought to yoin der police. He vould look very dashing in der uniform, ja? Und next ting hy know, he helping to rescue kidnapped pipple und dere is police all over der vaterfront arresting de bad guys. So, vot hy vant to know is, vos he really in der police all dis time?”
It was not quite the truth, but it was near enough to keep both Alice and the requirements of the Service happy. “That's right,” she replied. “Plain clothes police officer. I mean,” she added, with a flash of inspiration, “it would be difficult to get a uniform to fit him across the shoulders, and besides, there's his hat. They couldn't possibly have asked him to take off his shako and wear a helmet.”
“Of course not! He von dat hat fair and sqvare,” said Drauka.
“I know. I was there. He got the rogue spark who killed my father. And his clank.”
Drauka considered this. “Hyu not his leddy friend, are hyu?”
“No. We're more like brother and sister.”
“Goot,” said Drauka, so transparently relieved that it was all Alice could do not to smile.
The doorbell rang again, and a few moments later Mrs Chadwick was shown in, looking as stiff and imperious as ever. “Good evening, Mrs Chadwick,” said Alice politely. “This is Drauka.”
Drauka held out a hand. “So hyu not de Qveen, den. Nize to meet hyu.”
“The Queen?” asked Mrs Chadwick, taken aback for once as she shook Drauka's hand. “May I ask why you thought I might be the Queen?”
“Saw her vunce from a distance. Hyu don't look much like her now hy tink about it, but hyu carry hyuself yust de same vay.”
Alice laughed. “I think if we were inviting the Queen round here, we might have a little more ceremony. That is, in the unlikely event that she would come at all.”
“I am, as a matter of fact, a police officer,” said Mrs Chadwick. Again, it was as close to the truth as was reasonable in the circumstances. “I was in charge of the kidnap investigation.”
After you took Ardsley Wooster off it, thought Alice bitterly, but she said nothing.
Drauka nodded. “Der man vot looked as if he could hardly valk. Did he get off der boat all right?”
“He did,” replied Alice quickly, grateful for the diversion, “and he and the man who helped him off will be joining us very shortly.”
“Yes,” said Mrs Chadwick. “He couldn't climb down in the usual way, so Dr Watson tied a rope around his shoulders and lowered him across the rail. The doctor is quite strong, but Mr Holmes is tall, and I must admit I was afraid at one point he was going to drop him. But we got him on board safely, without a soaking.”
“Mister... Holmes?” said Drauka. “Und Dr Vatson? Hyu not talking about Mister Sherlock Holmes, are hyu?”
“You've heard of him?” asked Alice.
“Vell, of course. Hy read de papers,” said Drauka. “Vos it him?”
“It was,” said Mrs Chadwick, “and you'll be meeting him very shortly.”
Drauka's eyes widened. “Mein Gott! How did Mister Sherlock Holmes get kidnapped by dat pirate leddy? He dealt vit much vorse.”
“You're forgetting there were three Jägers in the equation,” said Alice.
Drauka sighed. “Ho ja. Dose tree. If dey let dem out of prison, no Jäger here ever going to schpeak to dem again. Und dey certainly don't come in my bar no more.”
The doorbell rang again, followed shortly by the entrance of Sherlock Holmes himself, the faithful doctor in tow. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, bowing slightly.
“Good evening, Mr Holmes and Dr Watson,” said Alice. “Do come and sit down. You're looking a lot better now, Mr Holmes.”
“Indeed. I have no doubt that if you and your friends had not intervened, I should by now be floating upside down in the estuary. A salutary lesson; I shall not make the mistake of underestimating the Jägerkin again in future.”
“Vell, yust so hyu know,” said Drauka, “some of us are hyu friends. Hyu ever need information hyu can't get elsevhere, hyu yust come to my bar und ask for me.”
“Thank you, madam,” said Holmes. “You must, then, be Drauka?”
“Dat's me,” said Drauka proudly. “Hy de vun vot von der hat off de pirate leddy.” She pointed to it.
“Yes,” said Holmes. “I really need to learn more about these hat fights. They are clearly something of importance.”
Drauka beamed. “Hyu bet! Hy glad hyu get it. At dinner, hyu sit next to me, hey? Hy tell hyu all hyu vant to know.”
“It would be my pleasure, madam,” said Holmes gravely.
“I imagine,” said Mrs Chadwick, “that you would like to be filled in on the remaining details. As well as the four who were arrested on the waterfront, we have also arrested...”
Holmes held up a hand to stop her, grinning impishly. “Just because I was incapacitated for almost the entire course of the investigation, Mrs Chadwick, that does not mean that my brain ceased to function. I take it you have arrested Mr Buckingham.”
“We certainly have,” said Mrs Chadwick, “but I imagine that Dr Watson would have been able to tell you we intended to do so.”
“Oh, he did, but by that time I had already deduced that he was behind the kidnapping. No other person, apart from Miss Temple, could possibly have known enough to act so quickly, and Miss Temple would hardly have involved me simply in order to make me the victim of another risky kidnap attempt. That much quickly became clear, once I recovered from the initial nausea. One of the Jägers hit me on the head while abducting me, and I believe I was somewhat concussed.”
“And you were very lucky it wasn't worse,” added Watson.
“I had the foresight to pretend to be worse affected than I was, since I knew I could never match them for strength,” replied Holmes. “If I had demonstrated that I still had most of my wits about me, I dare say that would have invited another blow. Nonetheless, even without the pretence I was bad enough.”
“I never asked,” said Alice suddenly. “Has Mr Buckingham confessed?”
“Depends exactly what you mean,” replied Mrs Chadwick drily. “He's confessed to orchestrating his wife's kidnapping. Says he did it for the money, because his wife wasn't giving him as much as he wanted. I suppose he thinks that if he confesses to that, it might get him off the attempted murder charge he's facing.”
“Mine, his wife's, or both?” asked Holmes.
“Oh, his wife's. Captain Dupree got your attempted murder charge,” said Mrs Chadwick. “Mr Buckingham doesn't appear to have had any intention of killing you, just getting you out of the way until his wife was safely dead.”
“Then he's an amateur,” said Holmes.
“Hy should hope so,” said Drauka hotly. “Vos bad enough for poor Mrs Buckingham vitout finding out she vos married to a professional crook.”
“She won't be for long,” replied Mrs Chadwick. “Whatever the outcome of the case, there will be a divorce. She has already filed the papers.”
“Goot for her,” said Drauka.
“Oh, and the airship,” said Alice. “I assume Captain Dupree flew that?”
Mrs Chadwick nodded. “Oh yes, and that went on the charge sheet. She's a very good pilot in the air, as well as at sea. She and her sister were running their pirate operation from an airship before the Baron caught her sister.”
“Now that sounds like an interesting story,” said Alice.
“Quite colourful, indeed,” said Mrs Chadwick. “The Baron's troops brought the airship down. Kerala got away and Bangladesh didn't. Bangladesh, however, apparently killed nearly thirty of them before the Baron himself arrived on the scene and decided he would rather have her working for him than against him.”
“That's rather disturbing,” said Alice. “Obviously I don't know a great deal about Baron Wulfenbach, but from what I do know I had him pegged as fairly reasonable.”
“As spark overlords go, he's remarkably so,” replied Mrs Chadwick. “But, given the area he rules, it's understandable that occasionally he needs someone with her somewhat esoteric set of skills.”
Alice considered. “Just how bad are things over there at the moment, anyway?” she asked.
“It depends on exactly where you are,” said Mrs Chadwick. “The Baron's territory is stable enough, for the most part. Outside it... well. Not so much.”
“Is better here,” observed Drauka. “Ve Jägers, ve like to fight. But not all of us like to fight ven is completely pointless. Ven de vors yust go back und fort und nobody effer really vins. Some of us do, is true. But dat sort, dey schtay over dere.”
“But if you like fighting,” said Watson, curiously, “surely it can't be good for you here? You hardly ever get to do it at all.”
Drauka laughed throatily. “Is all hyu know, Doctor! Effery night at my bar, ve have a damn goot brawl.”
“Ja,” said Ottokar, walking into the room. “Of course, ve got to move all de furniture out of de vay before ve schtart. Oddervise, vould be expensive.”
“And... that's not pointless?” asked Watson.
“Is Jägers,” replied Ottokar simply. “Plenty of point. Der point being, is goot fun und ve don't hurt any poor devils vot yust happen to be in der vay.”
“Is like cricket,” added Drauka. “Ve might as vell ask vot is der point of dat.”
“Anyvay,” said Ottokar, “dinner is ready. Is dis vay. Und don't vorry about who takes vot person in to dinner, because dere is only six of us und is yust across der hall und ve don't do formal in dis house.”
“Goot,” said Drauka, greatly relieved.
Ottokar drew level with her. “Hy kind of owe hyu vun,” he said. “Hy only got hyu into dat hat fight so ve could get de prisoners off der boat. Und hy feel a bit bad about it, because hyu vos hurt.”
“Don't hyu vorry!” exclaimed Drauka. “Hy vosn't hurt so badly, und hy got a really goot hat out of it. Hyu don't owe me a ting.”
“Vell, hy tink hy do,” said Ottokar. “So hy made hyu some beetle cakes, specially.”
“Oh! Hyu shouldn't have. Hyu too goot.”
“I am still really struggling to understand this,” said Watson, just behind them. “I mean, the hats...”
Both Jägers turned round to face him, giving him their most patient looks.
“Hats,” they announced, in perfect unison, “are IMPAWTENT.”
* * * * *