The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

thiswas a source of guilt. Miss Temple nodded to at least acknowledge the man’s concerns.
    “In terms of management, I should expect a house this size is rather an involving job. Do you have a large staff? I myself have at various times given much thought to the proper size of a staff in relation to the size of a house—or the ambition of the house, as often a person’s social aim outstrips their physical resources—”
    “You were
spying
. You broke into the master’s inner passage!”
    “And a wicked inner passage it is,” she replied. “If you ask me, it is your
master
you should call a sneak—”
    “
What were you doing there? What did you hear? What have you stolen? Who has paid you to do this
?”
    Each of Mr. Blenheim’s questions was more vehement than the one before, and by the last his face was red, quite accentuating the amount of white hair in his grizzled whiskers, making him appear to Miss Temple even more worth mocking.
    “My goodness, Sir—your complexion! Perhaps if you drank less gin?”
    “We were merely lost,” Elöise intervened smoothly. “There was a fire—”
    “I am aware of it!”
    “You can see our faces—my dress—” and here Elöise helpfully drew his eyes to the blackened silk that fell about her shapely calves.
    Blenheim licked his lips. “That means nothing,” he muttered.
    But to Miss Temple it meant a great deal, for the fact that the man had not by this time delivered them to his master told her that Mr. Blenheim had ideas of his own. She indicated the animal heads and the display cases of weapons with a vague wave and a conspiratorial smile.
    “What a curious room this is,” she said.
    “It is not curious at all. It is the trophy room.”
    “I’m sure it must be, but that is to say it is a room of men.”
    “And what of that?”
    “We are women.”
    “Is that of consequence?”
    “
That
, Mr. Blenheim”—here she batted her eyes without shame—“is surely our question to you.”
    “What are your names?” he asked, his mouth a tightly drawn line, his eyes flicking quickly as he stared. “What do you know?”
    “That depends on who you serve.”
    “
You will answer me directly
!”
    Miss Temple nodded sympathetically at his outburst, as if his anger were at the uncooperative weather rather than herself. “We do not want to be difficult,” she explained. “But neither do we want to offend. If you are, for example, deeply attached to Miss Lydia Vandaariff—”
    Blenheim waved her past the topic with a violently brusque stab of his hand. Miss Temple nodded.
    “Or you had particular allegiances with Lord Vandaariff, or the Contessa, or the Comte d’Orkancz, or Mr. Francis Xonck, or Deputy Minister Crabbé, or—”
    “You will tell me what you know no matter what my allegiance.”
    “Of course. But first, you must be aware that the house has been penetrated by
agents
.”
    “The man in red—” Blenheim nodded with impatience.
    “And the other,” added Elöise, “from the quarry, with the airship—”
    Again Blenheim waved them to another topic. “These are in hand,” he hissed. “But why are two adherents in white gowns running through the house and defying their masters?”
    “Once more, Sir, which masters do you mean?” asked Miss Temple.
    “But …” he stopped, and nodded vigorously, as if his own thoughts were confirmed. “Already, then … they plot against each other …”
    “We knew you were not a fool.” Elöise sighed, hopelessly.
    Mr. Blenheim did not at once reply, and Miss Temple, though she did not risk a glance at Elöise, took the moment to squeeze her hand.
    “While the Comte is down in the prison chamber,” she said, speaking with bland speculation, “and the Contessa is in a private room with the Prince … where is Mr. Xonck? Or Deputy Minister Crabbé?”
    “Or where are they
thought
to be?” asked Elöise.
    “Where is your own Lord Vandaariff?”
    “He is—” Blenheim stopped himself.
    “Do you know where to find your own master?” asked Elöise.
    Blenheim shook his head. “You still have not—”
    “What do you
think
we were doing?” Miss Temple allowed her exasperation to show. “We escaped from the theatre—escaped from Miss Poole—”
    “Who came with Minister Crabbé in the airship,” added Elöise.
    “And then made our way to overhear the actions of the Contessa in your secret room,” resumed Miss Temple, “and from there have done our best to intrude upon the Comte