The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

way of helping me sort out how to
feel
. Because at the time, I had no idea how to talk of anything. Yet these things that have happened—they tell us what kind of world we are in, and what sort of actions we must be prepared to take. If you had not shot this fellow, would either yourself or the Doctor be still alive? And without the Doctor to take me off that table, would I?”

    Elöise did not answer. Miss Temple saw her wrestling with her doubts and knew from experience that to overcome those doubts and accept what had occurred was to become a significantly less innocent person.
    “But this was the Duke of Stäelmaere,” Elöise whispered. “It is assassination. You do not understand—I will assuredly hang!”
    Miss Temple shook her head.
    “The men
I
killed were villains,” she said. “And I am sure this Duke was the same—most Dukes are simply
horrid
—”
    “Yes, but no one will care—”
    “Nonsense, for I care, as you care, as I am sure Doctor Svenson cared—it is the exact heart of the matter. What I do
not
give a brass farthing for is the opinion of our enemies.”
    “But—the
law
—their word will be believed—”
    Miss Temple gave her opinion of the law with a dismissive shrug.
    “You may well have to leave—perhaps the Doctor can take you back to Macklenburg, or you can escort my aunt on a tour of Alsatian restaurants—but there is always a remedy. For example—look how foolish we are, waltzing along who knows where without a second’s thought!”
    Elöise looked behind them, gesturing vaguely. “But—I thought—”
    “Yes, of course.” Miss Temple nodded. “We will surely be pursued, but have either of us had the presence of mind to look through the Doctor’s pockets? He is a resourceful man—one never knows—my father’s overseer would not step foot from his door, as a rule, without a knife, a bottle, dried meat, and a twist of tobacco that could fill his pipe for a week.” She smiled slyly. “And who can say—in the process it may afford a glimpse into the secret life of Doctor Svenson…”
    Elöise spoke quickly. “But—but I am sure there is no such thing—”
    “O come, every person has some secrets.”
    “I do not, I assure you—or at least nothing indecent—”
    Miss Temple scoffed. “
Decent?
What are you wearing? Look at you—I can see your legs—your bare legs! What use is decency when we have been thrust into this peril—treading about without even a corset! Are we to be judged? Do not be silly—here.”
    She reached out and took the Doctor’s coat, but then wrinkled her nose at its condition. The ruddy light might hide its stains but she could smell earth and oil and sweat, as well as the strongly unpleasant odor of indigo clay. She batted at it ineffectually, launching little puffs of dust, and gave up. Miss Temple dug into the Doctor’s side pocket and removed a cardboard box of cartridges for his revolver. She handed it to Elöise.
    “There—we now know he is a man to carry bullets.”
    Elöise nodded impatiently, as if this were against her wishes. Miss Temple met her gaze and narrowed her eyes.
    “Miss Dujong—”
    “Mrs.”
    “Beg pardon?”
    “Mrs. Mrs. Dujong. I am a widow.”
    “My condolences.”
    Elöise shrugged. “I am well accustomed to it.”
    “Excellent. The thing is, Mrs. Dujong,” Miss Temple’s tone was still crisp and determined, “in case you had not noticed, Harschmort is a house of masks and mirrors and lies, of unscrupulous, brutal advantage. We cannot afford illusion—about ourselves least of all, for this is what our enemies exploit
most
of all. I have seen notorious things, I promise you, and notorious things have been done to me. I too have undergone—” She lost her way and could not speak, taken unawares by her own emotion, gesturing instead with the coat, shaking it. “
This
is nothing. Searching someone’s
coat
? Doctor Svenson may have given his
life
to save us—do you think he would scruple the contents of his pockets if they might help us further—or help us to save him? It is no time to be a foolish woman.”
    Mrs. Dujong did not answer, avoiding Miss Temple’s gaze, but then nodded and held out her hands, cupping them to take whatever else might come from the coat pockets. Working quickly—despite the pleasure it gave her, Miss Temple was not one to continue with criticism once her point was made—she located the Doctor’s cigarette case, matches, the other blue card, an