The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

Mr. Spanning, whose pomaded hair I shall set aflame. The Doctor’s room is paid for by me. They will be here any moment.”
    “How many men did you see?” asked Chang.
    “Four. Three soldiers and another, in a brown cloak.”
    “The Comte’s man,” said Svenson.
    “We are three,” said Chang. “They’ll want to take us quietly, not force a pitched battle.”
    “There may be others in the lobby,” warned Svenson.
    “Even if there are, we can beat them.”
    “At what cost?” asked the Doctor.
    Chang shrugged.
    Miss Temple looked around her, at the comfort and security that had been her life at the Hotel Boniface, and knew that it was over. She turned to her maids. “Marthe, you will prepare a traveling bag—light enough for me to carry, with the barest essentials—the flowered carpet bag will do.” The girl did not move. Miss Temple shouted at her. “At
once
! Do you think this is any time to shirk? Marie, you will prepare traveling bags for my aunt and for the two of you. You will be spending time at the seaside. Go!”
    The maids leapt to their work. Her aunt looked up at her.
    “Celeste—my dear—the
seaside
?”
    “You must move to safety—and I apologize, I am so very, very sorry to have placed you in such danger.” Miss Temple sniffed and gestured toward her own room. “I will see what ready money I have, of course you will have enough for travel, and a note to draw upon—you must take both maids—”
    Agathe’s gaze went, rather wide-eyed, from Miss Temple over to the figures of Chang and Svenson, neither of whom seemed anywhere near respectable enough for her niece to be alone with. “But—you cannot—you are a well-bred young lady—the
scandal
—you must come with me!”
    “It is impossible—”
    “You will not have a maid—
that
is impossible!” The aged lady huffed at the men, chiding them. “And the seaside will be so
cold
—”
    “That is the exact point, my Aunt. You must go to a place no one would expect. You must tell no one—you must tell
no one
.”
    Her aunt was silent as the maids bustled around them, studying her niece with dismay—though whether at the present predicament or at what her niece had become, Miss Temple was not sure. She was particularly aware that Svenson and Chang were watching the entire exchange.
    “And what of you?” whispered her aunt.
    “I cannot say,” she answered. “I do not know.”

    At least twenty minutes had passed, and Miss Temple—idly tracing her fingers back and forth across one of the Doctor’s blue glass cards—saw Chang at the main door, peering out into the hall. He stepped back, caught her eye, and shrugged. Marthe had brought the carpet bag for her to inspect. Miss Temple sent her to help Marie, tucked the blue card into her own clutch bag—without looking at the Doctor, who having given it to her again to examine had not perhaps agreed it was hers to
keep
—and carried the carpet bag over to an armchair, where she sat. Her attention elsewhere, she glanced through what the maid had chosen and tied the bag shut without finishing. Miss Temple sighed. Her aunt sat at the table, watching her. Chang stood by the door. Svenson leaned against the table near her aunt, his attempts to help pack having been rebuffed by the maids.
    “If these men have not come,” said her aunt, “then perhaps they are not coming at all. Perhaps there is no need to go anywhere. If they do not know Celeste—”
    “Whether they know your niece is not the issue,” said Svenson gently. “They know who I am, at least, and also Chang. As they know we have been here, they will be watching the hotel. It will be a mere matter of time before they connect your niece to us—”
    “They already have,” said Chang, from the doorway.
    “Then once they
act
on it,” continued Svenson, “as your niece has said—you yourself are in danger.”
    “But,” her aunt persisted, “if they are not here yet—”
    “It is a blessing,” said Miss Temple. “It means we may all get away unseen.”
    “That will be difficult,” said Chang.
    Miss Temple sighed. It would be very difficult. Each entrance would be watched from the street. The only question, and their only hope, was in what those men were watching
for
—and surely it was not two maids and an old woman.
    “You had best accomplish it, Sir—and neatly!” sniffed Aunt Agathe, as if Chang were a workman whose expression of doubt was a prelude to an increase in his fee.
    Miss Temple