The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

sighed heavily. “It is not.”
    He nodded again to Angelique.
    To the immediate dismay of the other members of the Cabal, the glass woman turned toward them. They shrank back, as Angelique began to walk forward.
    “W-what are you
doing?
” sputtered Crabbé.
    “I am getting to the bottom of this
mystery,
” rasped the Comte.
    “You cannot finish this without our help,” hissed Xonck. He waved a hand at the girl on the bed. “Haven’t we done enough for you—haven’t we all accommodated your
visions
?”
    “Visions at the core of your
profit,
Francis.”
    “I have never denied it! But if you think to turn me into a husk like Vandaariff—”
    “I think nothing of the kind,” answered the Comte. “What I am doing is in our larger interest.”
    “Before you treat us like animals, Oskar,…and make me your
enemy,
” said the Contessa, raising her voice and speaking quite fiercely, “perhaps you could explain what you intend.”

    Miss Temple clapped a hand over her mouth, feeling like a fool. Oskar! Was it so stupidly obvious? The Comte had not stolen the works of Oskar Veilandt, the painter was no prisoner or mindless drone…the two men were one and the same! What had Aunt Agathe told her—that the Comte was born in the Balkans, raised in Paris, an unlikely inheritance? How was that incompatible with what Mr. Shanck had said of Veilandt—school in Vienna, studio in Montmartre, mysteriously disappeared—into respectability and wealth, she now knew! She looked over to Chang and Svenson, and saw Chang shaking his head bitterly. Svenson had eyes for nothing but Elöise’s slumped figure, glaring down at the poor woman with helpless agitation.
    The Comte cleared his throat and held up the glass card.
    “The
encounter
is attended by spectators—including you, Rosamonde, and you, Francis. But the clever Mrs. Dujong has perceived, through the viewing mirror, a
second
encounter, in the lobby…that of Colonel Trapping speaking most earnestly with Robert Vandaariff.”
    This revelation was met with silence.
    “What does that
mean
?” asked Crabbé.
    “That is not
all,
” intoned the Comte.
    “If you would simply tell us, Monsieur!” protested Crabbé. “There is no great amount of time—”
    “Mrs. Dujong’s memory tells of a
second
card—one the Doctor cut from the lining of Arthur Trapping’s uniform. Evidently his body was not fully
searched
. Among other things this card conveys an image of myself performing a preparatory examination on Lydia.”
    “Arthur intended to give it to Vandaariff,” said Xonck. “The greedy fool would not have been able to resist…”
    Crabbé stepped forward, narrowing his eyes.
    “Is this your way of informing us that
you
killed him?” he hissed at the Comte. “Without telling anyone? Risking everything? Pushing forward our entire time-table? No wonder Lord Robert was so agitated—no wonder we were forced to—”
    “But that is the point, Harald,” rumbled the Comte. “I am telling you
all
this exactly because
I
did not harm a hair on Arthur Trapping’s head.”
    “But—but why else—” began Crabbé, but he then fell silent…as every member of the Cabal studied one another.

    “You said she had this from Svenson?” the Contessa asked. “Where did
he
get it?”
    “She does not know.”
    “From me, of course,” drawled a sluggish voice from the other side of the room. Karl-Horst was attempting to pour himself more brandy. “He must have found it in my room. I never even noticed Trapping, I must say—more interested in
Margaret
! It was the first bit of glass I’d ever seen—a present to entice my participation.”
    “A present from whom?” asked Francis Xonck.
    “Lord knows—is that important?”
    “It is perhaps crucial, Your Highness,” said the Contessa.
    The Prince frowned. “Well…in
that
case…”
    It seemed to Miss Temple that each member of the Cabal watched the Prince with the barest restraint, every one of them wishing they could slap his face until he spat out what he knew, but none daring to show the slightest impatience or worry in front of the others…and so they waited as he pursed his lips and scratched his ear and sucked on his teeth, all the time enjoying their undivided attention. She was beginning to get worried herself. What if Angelique were to continue her search? Who was to say the glass woman could not somehow smell the presence of their minds? Miss Temple’s leg tingled from being crouched so