“It is,” said Margaret. “Temporarily, of course, since Queen Tera may wish it back some day!” She smiled, as though making a joke. “It’s a scarab—a beetle sacred to the Egyptians. The scarab beetle rolls its dung up into a ball, like Ra rolling the sun across the sky each day, from dawn to sunset—therefore, it was seen as a symbol of resurrection. The equivalence may seem strange to us—we are not accustomed to thinking of the sun as a dung ball! But the Egyptians did not scorn such humble things as beetles, or even their dung. The dung of the scarab beetle fertilized the fields of Egypt.” She looked down at her wristwatch “Goodness, look at the time! I think we’ve been talking long enough. Now I had better go check on Queen Tera herself! If you will excuse me, Helen—”
The illusion swirled around them, like paints in a jar of turpentine, then melted into the floor. They were back in the pleasant room in the considerably less pleasant headquarters of the Order of the Golden Dawn, with the remains of breakfast in front of them.
“Go on, Lydia,” said Margaret. “You can find your way back to your own room, can’t you? Now that you have joined our cause, I don’t think there’s any need to keep you confined.”
“Are you quite certain?” asked Helen, sounding surprised. “Of course, I could tell if Lydia tried to leave the environs of this house—I can sense her energic waves, as I can sense yours. And she would not make it past Moriarty’s sentries. But I think it would be best if her room were kept locked.”
So that was how her mother still thought of her—as a prisoner who might escape. What does she mean that she can sense my energic waves? Alice wondered. How far could this ability extend? Throughout the entire house? Beyond it? Well, it did not matter, because she was not planning to escape, not anymore. Now there was something more important than her personal safety involved. First, she needed to help Mr. Holmes, to get him out of this place. And after that, she needed to stop Moriarty, somehow. She had never imagined that it might be up to her, Alice the kitchen maid, to save the Queen, but there was no one else, was there? So she would have to do. If her mother could sense her energic waves—Could I sense hers, if I tried? She could see the waves, swirling around her mother’s head. Would she be able to sense them at a distance?
“Yes, I’m certain,” said Margaret. “You can’t keep your own daughter locked up. Even you should know that! Lydia said she was on our side. I trust her—don’t you?”
“It’s for her own safety,” said Helen, frowning. “Lydia, pay attention! You look as though you’re a million miles away. Harker is a harmless idiot. Godalming and Seward are unlikely to concern themselves with you. But I don’t trust Moriarty out of my sight. Moran does whatever Moriarty tells him, and as for my own father—well, he’s far too interested in resuming his old experiments. Moriarty was delighted when one of the mesmerists we located told us about you. He suspected at once who you must be. I was skeptical—until I saw you myself. Then, of course, I knew. One cannot mistake the resemblance in our powers, or our energic signatures. I only wish I had noticed that night at the Magdalen Society—we could have become acquainted sooner. But I was not paying attention to you. My mind was entirely on Hyde, whose requests I was fulfilling as a representative of Moriarty. He is, among other things, in the business of supplying young women—he does not ask for what purposes. And while I’m glad to have found you again”—she did not look particularly glad, but perhaps it was the only way she could look glad?—“I’m concerned they might have plans for you that they haven’t shared with me. Moriarty does not tell me everything—he is secretive, and a very dangerous, man. I will be glad when this ritual has been successfully completed.”
“One of the mesmerists you found told you about me?” said Alice. It could only be Martin. Had he betrayed her? She had thought of him as a friend and teacher!
“Yes, Marvin I think his name was. A circus performer of some sort.” Helen’s voice was scornful. “These mesmerists are poor specimens—of all the so-called practitioners of mesmerism we found in London, only five of them proved to have any mesmerical abilities at all. This Marvin was the most powerful, and he said he knew of one more powerful than he was, a young girl with significant natural abilities although little training. Of course he did not know what we wanted mesmerists for—he thought we were putting on a show of some sort—The Wonders of Mesmerism!”
“Where are these mesmerists now?” asked Alice. “You haven’t hurt them, have you?” At least, if Martin had betrayed her, he hadn’t known he was doing it!
“No, we may have some use for them later. They are being, shall we say, stored where they cannot escape, under the watchful eye of the man who found them for us—a mountebank showman who calls himself Professor Petronius.” Helen pushed her chair away from the table. “That’s enough questions. I have important work to do, as does Margaret. All right, child, we’ll do this her way—find your room, stay there, and don’t get into trouble!”
BEATRICE: Oh, that Professor Petronius! I wish I had never seen or heard of him again, after the way he treated me. But I am glad that, during our battle in Southwark, I was able to—
CATHERINE: Oh no, you don’t! All of you did this in the last book as well. I warned you about it then, and I’m warning you again now. No discussing important events before we actually get to them!
Alice waited a while in her room before sneaking out. It wasn’t really sneaking, was it? She had permission now to roam around the house. But she did not want to run into Moriarty or any of the other men. She was frightened enough of them without her mother’s warning.
There was no one in the hall, so she tried the door to the room where Sherlock Holmes was being held. It was locked. Once again she wished that she could open locks like Diana.
DIANA: You see? You never want me until you do, and then if I’m not there, you’re stuck!
What else could she do? Whatever drug he was being given would likely be kept in his room—or would it? Not if they wanted to keep it away from him. Then where? The bathroom! She walked back down to the end of the hall, to the room in which she had taken her bath. Yes, it contained a cabinet. In it were all the usual things one found in bathrooms: Dr. Lyon’s Tooth Powder, Lloyd’s Cocaine Toothache Drops, Dalton’s Nerve Tonic, Bruceline Hair Restorer—that must be for Moriarty, whose hairline was certainly receding! Tweezers, a pair of small scissors, a mustache comb. What was that on the top shelf? A brown bottle—yes, it was marked BAYER HEROIN HYDROCHLORIDE. She unscrewed the top—sure enough, the bottle was half full of white powder. Next to it was a leather case. Alice took it down and opened it—there was the hypodermic. Presumably whoever gave him the drug mixed it with water in some sort of vessel—the tooth glass? Could she perhaps hide the bottle? No, another could easily be purchased at the nearest apothecary. Then could she dilute it somehow? What would be safe to substitute? She tried to remember what Mrs. Poole had taught her. A woman is the nurse and doctor of her household, Mrs. Poole had said. Whether as wife, mother, or housekeeper, she should know how to treat an injury or illness. You never know when a doctor may be unavailable, or not arrive in time. All right, Alice, if a child had jaundice, what would you give him? What would Mrs. Poole do in this case?